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I’m sorry.
Tony looked at the message that had made his phone screen light up his darkened room. Of course he would get some random text right as he was about to fall asleep. His eyes flicked up the screen to see who it was from. He rolled his eyes at the number that wasn’t in his contacts– what were the odds that this rando would text his number? Out of all the numbers in the world, the universe just had to pick on an actively suffering insomniac. He stretched to set the phone back down on his bedside, face down, but it buzzed before he could lay back down. He looked at the screen again.
I’m really sorry, but I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.
Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to sleep, not become invested in a conversation that he wasn’t supposed to be part of.
I’m just really tired. I’m sorry.
Tony stared at the new message and shook his head. Maybe he should put this guy out of his misery and tell him that he had the wrong number. He sighed and unlocked his phone.
There was a shift in the bed as Pepper sat up. “What’s going on?” She mumbled sleepily.
“Getting breakup messages or something from some random number. Gonna tell them they have the wrong guy.” Tony whispered quietly back, looking up at his wife. “Go back to sleep.” He said softly, not unkindly.
His phone buzzed again and he looked back to his phone.
I don’t think I could ever explain how much you mean to me. I just wish I was strong enough to tell everyone else. You’re the only one I could think to text. I’m sorry to burden you with this. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for and please know this isn’t your fault.
“O…kay?” Tony muttered under his breath.
“What?” Pepper whispered, laying back down. “Is it getting weird?”
Tony shook his head. “You could say that.” He paused for a minute, thinking. “I’m going to answer, see what’s going on.”
What’s going on? What are you saying?
Tony sent the text, and then sat, waiting for a response. He felt a clench in his gut, and tried to shake it off.
I’m sorry, Ned. I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. You did everything you could.
Tony was confused now.
What’s happening?
Tony sent the text quickly. Ned. He knew that name, he knew that name. Of course he knew that name, but it was a common name, so–
It’s just not worth it. I just want to get some rest.
The text came through with a little buzz. Tony’s stomach was beginning to churn.
What the hell. What do you mean
Tony typed out the text and sent it. He was vaguely aware of FRIDAY notifying him that his heart rate was increasing rapidly, and his breathing was unsteady.
His phone buzzed again.
I’m trying, I really am, I promise I wouldn’t make this decision if I didn't think it was the best option.
There was a pause and another text came through. Tony’s eyes scanned it quickly.
It never used to be this hard to get up in the morning. It never used to be this hard to talk, to think, to see people happy. It never used to be this hard to be alive. I don’t sleep anymore, but I’m so tired. I don't wanna lay in bed all day, I don’t wanna do anything, I don’t wanna wake up again. I just want some rest.
Tony heaved out a breath. He was terrified– of course, the first time he was going to fall asleep this week, he would get a text– a suicide note, of all things. What was going to happen?
Who was this?
What would have happened if he had ignored the notifications?
No.
Was all Tony could think to send.
I’m sorry. But I’m done.
Where are you?
No. I don’t want you to find me.
No. Where are you.
“FRI, where are these texts coming from?”
“The Brooklyn Bridge.” She answered.
Tony didn’t care who this was. He had the ability to save them, and if he didn't, now that he had gotten this text? This would be on him.
Please just let Mr Stark know that this isn’t his fault.
Tony stared blankly at the text.
“What?” He asked out loud.
If Tony asks, tell him not to worry. I want this, I wanted this. This is my choice.
Something clicked in Tony’s head.
“No.” He heaved out the single word. As if saying anything else would make it too real, would shatter his world.
He was flying through the house, racing towards the windows of the penthouse as the Iron Man armour formed around him. He jumped before it had fully encased him and yelled out to FRIDAY as he flew. “Where’s Peter? FRIDAY, NOW.”
A map appeared in front of him, guiding him to his son’s location. “FRI, pull up the texts.”
Peter Benjamin Parker.
Tony sent. He watched as the grey dots appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared, and then a message finally sent through.
Ned?
No
Oh
It doesn’t matter, Mr Stark. I’ve made up my mind.
Tony cursed. His eyes were reacting of their own accord at this point, filling with tears and making it hard to see where he was going.
Parker, don’t you dare. I swear if you move before I get there.
Thank you. Really.
Peter stood at the edge of Brooklyn Bridge, and switched his phone off. He threw it into the water.
No, he hadn’t meant to message Tony. No, that wasn’t his phone. He had bought a burner phone after his other one was broken. He couldn’t go back home to the tower, couldn’t risk changing his mind, but he couldn’t leave without saying anything. He knew exactly three phone numbers. Apparently he didn't know them as well as he thought– he had texted Tony Stark instead of his best friend, Ned.
But it didn’t matter.
He didn’t deserve to accidentally mix up his friend’s number with the hero, Tony Stark. He didn’t deserve to bother him. He didn’t deserve anything. Who did he think he was? Maybe for a long time he had been able to restrain these thoughts, to push them away, but now he knew. Now he knew that it didn’t matter who he was. Everybody dies. Nothing he does will last, everyone he helps will die someday. He’ll die someday.
Better now than never.
He took one last look up at the city that he had grown to hate. He used to adore the bustle of the city that never sleeps. Used to love how it swarmed with people– nobody was the same, everybody had their own quirks, lives– so many different lives, all smushed together in one big city that they could all call home. But then he became a hero. And people became blurred faces without names, and lives meant nothing because every single loud person in this god-forsaken city was going to die. The noise never ended but the people who made it were always changing. There were new people on the street every day, every day someone was replaced by another life, another life that wouldn’t last much longer. How much longer before he was replaced? Not much longer if he had anything to say about it. The never blinking lights of the city made bright tattoos in Peter’s eyelids as he blinked, taking in the filthy, polluted air for one last time. He would never live to see the city’s lights go out. He would never live to see the stars die. They were already dead to him– no matter how bright they shone, it would never be enough light to convince him not to let the darkness inside of him take over.
His world was ending. And nobody in New York City knew. What was one life to a big city?
And so Peter closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And let his feet lose contact with the bridge.
And Peter Parker fell.
For a long moment, Peter thought he was already dead. And then he hit the water. Of course the world wouldn’t let him go painlessly. He would feel it all. But maybe the universe was right– maybe it was meant to be like that. He wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t, right? Peter let himself sink into the frigid water without resistance. He took a deep breath in and let the unrelenting darkness fill his lungs– and it hurt.
It hurt, and for the first time, Peter’s mind wasn’t thinking about the world anymore. Wasn’t thinking about what he was leaving behind. Perhaps he really had made the right choice. Peter was weightless. The world was cold.
“I must be dead.” He thought. He could vaguely feel himself ascending– so he hadn’t done so bad in the world that he deserved to take the trip downwards– and welcomed the warmth that came with death.
Tony collapsed on the bank next to the water below the Brooklyn Bridge. He set Peter down gently and let the nanotech suit crawl off of him– the sensation continued even after his suit was gone-- Peter’s lips were blue, and his skin was pale and glossy.
Because Peter threw himself into the river.
Because he didn’t want to be alive.
Tony didn’t acknowledge that he was sobbing, didn’t realize it was happening. All he knew was that his kid, his Peter, just jumped into the East River with the hope of not coming back out of the water. The thought kept running around his head, over and over, “ Peter doesn’t want to be alive, ” and the thought was suffocating him– which reminded him: Peter wasn’t breathing.
“Oh, god, no, please…” Tony’s body was shaking so hard he could barely do the chest compressions. If it was his fault that Peter died–
A set of hands suddenly moved Tony to the side and took over chest compressions. The hands were more steady and sure of themselves.
“What happened?” Steve asked before suddenly adding, “I need you to do two rescue breaths.”
Tony shook himself out of his haze to follow the instructions. He had completely forgotten about pressing some panic button on his way out of the tower. Thank god he had. If he had been on his own, Peter would have…
Another set of hands were suddenly in Tony’s shoulders and he jumped. Rhodey stood behind him, a shaken expression on his face, staring at Peter.
“Pepper showed me the texts.” Rhodey whispered.
Tony put his face in his hands and let another sob escape him.
“Rhodey, rescue breaths.” A voice said. But it was faint and far away, and all Tony registered was the hands leaving his shoulders and then Tony was alone, so alone, all by himself, and if Peter died then it was on him, it was his fault, and he would be alone again if Peter left him, no lab partner, no spiderman, no kid– that was his kid on the floor, and–
“Oh my god.” Tony whispered. His eyes snapped open and filled with horror.
“What?” Rhodey asked, pulling away from Peter after completing another round of rescue breaths. But Rhodey knew what Tony was thinking. He had known him far too long not to recognize the look of guilt spreading over Tony’s face leaving him shaking even harder.
“No, Tony, you couldn’t have known.” Rhodey said. “None of us did.”
“No, no, this–” Tony left one hand covering his face and moved the other to clutch one of Peter’s slick, freezing hands. “This is all on me. If I hadn’t taken him in, introduced him into this life, then he never would have fallen into this mi–”
“Tony, if you hadn’t helped him then he would have died a long time ago. He was already ‘in this life’ before he met you.” Steve said. Tony couldn’t help but notice that Steve was starting to look tired.
Tony paused, taking in his words before asking quietly, “Why aren’t his ribs cracking?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said and took a deep breath. “I think every time they start to crack a little bit they just heal up again.”
Tony reached over and let the gauntlets encase Steve’s hands. After two compressions, a loud crack echoed from Peter. Steve let out a sigh of relief. “It’s working.”
After far too long, Peter was breathing again. Tony waited for nothing to sweep his kid up in his arms, soaking wet clothes and all, and cradle him gently. He pressed shaky kisses across his forehead and clutched at his hair and his back.
And Tony Stark sat crying and clutching the child he almost couldn’t save. Iron Man had failed to save people before, he had seen people die, had seen family die, but this… this was just a kid. His kid, at that.
There was a cough, and then a hoarse voice mumbled, “Tony?”
Tony held him tighter. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here, baby, I got you.”
A soft sob escaped Peter’s lips. “‘M sorry.” He whispered.
“No. Peter, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn't make you comfortable enough to talk to me about this, I am so, so sorry that you felt like this was the only option. I’m so sorry, baby.” A sob was ripped from his throat, and Tony buried his face in Peter’s hair.
“Not your fault.” Peter whispered, pressing closer to Tony.
“Peter.” Tony was shaking so violently that he knew Peter was being vibrated, too. “I… I just want to keep you safe, Petey.”
“I know. And you saved me, didn’t you?” Peter let out a soft sigh. Tony couldn’t tell if it was disappointed, or–
“I’m just tired.” Peter continued, shivering.
Tony nodded. “How about I take you to the medbay and you get some sleep.” Before Peter could counter that that was not what he meant, Tony added, “And then we’ll figure things out from there. Get you a psychiatrist, take you out of school for a little bit, whatever will make it better.”
Silence. And then there was a tight nod from Peter. “Couldn’t get any worse than this, right?” He mumbled, a little laugh turning quickly to a sob.
Tony pulled Peter closer and dropped a kiss to his forehead. “You aren’t allowed to die, Parker.”
“Convince me life is worth it then.” The counter came quickly, and Peter could feel his father shiver. “You can let go, now, Tony.” He said quietly.
“No.” Tony said tightly. “I’m not strong enough to do that, Peter. I’m going to do everything I can to convince you that this is worth it. And I’m never leaving your side.”
A quiet covered the two, and they just sat, listening. To the water lapping in the East River, the rustling of the grass in the wind, the ever-bustling city that still hadn’t noticed they had almost lost one of their own.
“Thank you.” Peter whispered.
If the world had chosen to give him a second chance, then it must have been for a reason. Peter didn’t understand who was in control, or who doled out the chances and lives, but there was no reason not to trust it. Tony was here now, Tony was going to help. And it was going to suck, but after that… well, maybe things would get better.
The city continued to breathe, loud and vibrant and alive.
Peter looked to the city with Tony. The lights that had blinded him moments ago were softer. The noise of the thousands of New Yorkers was quieter, overshadowed by the sound of Tony’s breathing and their continuous heartbeats. The city lived on.
And so did Peter.