Work Text:
Proof of life (ransom video/screams from across the hall)
***
Tony Stark isn’t a man known for panicking.
In fact, the opposite is normally true. When faced with life-threatening situations, world-ending threats, or bad news, his initial reaction tends toward sarcasm and humor. Of course, it’s all just deflection for his true feelings, which often do border the line of worry and panic. But no one else—especially not the press—needs to know that.
Things can change, however. And they do. Witnessing the end of half the world, losing a kid, getting married, having a kid, battling to regain the world five years later, and nearly dying as a result all count as big events that warrant said change. And when it comes to Tony’s family and friends, there’s certain situations that would most certainly cause immediate, unbridled panic—one of those situations being any time his kids are in danger.
So when Tony is sitting in the lab on a random Wednesday morning and receives a text from an unknown number with a video attachment and sees the thumbnail of Morgan trussed up and gagged, the only word that can describe the way his heart leaps into his throat and a rock drops into the pit of his stomach is absolute panic.
It grips him at the very core of his being, crawling up his insides as he clicks to open his messaging app with shaking fingers to view what quickly reveals itself as a ransom video. Anger mixes with shock and dread as Tony’s eyes drift over the text demanding a hefty sum of money for the safe return of Morgan Stark…and Peter Parker.
Tony hears his own heavy breaths when he hits play on the video that claims to provide “proof of life” for both of the kids. They must not be being kept together, because they’re filmed separately. Both are bound and gagged. Peter is a little worse for wear with obvious bruises on his face and a small cut just above his left eyebrow, blood trickling down his cheek as he tugs against his bonds. There’s fear in their expressions, but also identical sparks of anger and determination when they glare at the camera—and if the circumstances weren’t so utterly horrifying, Tony might have laughed.
His mind malfunctions as he stares at the words on the screen. If you ever want to see either of these children alive again, you will wire the amount specified above to the aforementioned account by tomorrow at noon. Otherwise, well…let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to that.
Tony can’t move, can’t breathe. They have them both. They have Morgan and Peter.
Peter may not be Tony’s biological son, but he’s his kid in every way that counts. Tony had five long years to come to that realization and admit it out loud, to himself and to Pepper. Even to Morgan, who heard many, many stories of the intelligent, enhanced chatterbox that was Peter Parker. So when Bruce snapped that gauntlet and got everyone back, Peter included, Tony was finally able to make those sentiments known to the web-slinging teen.
It seems as though the rest of the world is aware of this, too. Though there hasn’t been any official press conference or statement from any of the Starks regarding Peter and his presence in their lives—recovering from the aftereffects of half the world’s population suddenly reappearing after five years is a bigger priority than a rich family’s connections—the media continue to speculate on everything.
The panic rises in Tony’s chest, lodging itself there as he struggles to breathe, to see straight. It fills his ears, clouds his vision, so much so that he’s barely aware of Pepper’s entrance and worried voice asking if everything is all right. He thinks he might vomit if he dares to open his mouth, and he can’t even protest when she leans over the table to see his phone.
There’s silence for a moment, and then her voice jumps up three octaves when she speaks. “Oh my God—Tony. Tony, is this real?”
For some reason, the panic in his wife’s tone clears Tony’s a bit—because his family’s well-being comes before his own. Tony lifts his gaze to meet Pepper’s.
She’s shaking her head, her soft hair whipping back and forth with the force of the movement. “No, no. Tony, this can’t—please tell me this is fake.”
His voice catches in his throat, coming out hoarse. “Pep—”
Pepper, his rock, his ever-calm woman, looks like she might implode at any moment. “No, Morgan’s at school—I just dropped her off there a few hours ago.” Her voice breaks, and she starts pacing. “And Peter…Peter should be at school, too. This…this can’t be right, Tony.”
“Pepper,” Tony croaks again. “There’s a video. It—it’s real.”
She lets out a small cry and nearly collapses.
Tony catches her, keeping his hands on her arms. “I am going to get them back, Pep, I swear. Fri’s already on it, right?”
“Affirmative, Boss,” the A.I. answers. “Attempting to trace the message.”
“Call Rhodey, too,” Tony says, attempting to sound more together than he is and failing. “I need everybody on this. Right now.” Even as he says the words and tries to comfort Pepper, his mind is whirling. He knows that Peter could easily free himself from his binds and take those guys down with one hand, whether there are two or twenty of them.
So why isn’t he?
The answer dawns on him along with another fresh wave of panic.
Peter isn’t Spider-Man right now. These no-good kidnapping idiots grabbed Peter Parker, a Midtown High senior who’s known for his ridiculously high brain smarts—and his relationship with Tony Stark. Not an enhanced superhero.
He knows that if it came down to it, Peter wouldn’t hesitate to risk his identity being exposed in order to escape a life or death situation.
But these guys also have Morgan. If they threatened Peter with her well-being, well… The kid wouldn’t dare take a chance on Morgan’s safety. He loves that little girl like a sister.
Which means they’re relying on Tony to rescue them.
I’m coming, kiddos, I’m coming.
***
Peter glowers at the bodybuilder of a man standing in front of him. How he wishes he weren’t gagged—he has a few choice words for the sick people who think it’s okay to kidnap a six-year-old girl. But they’d quickly tired of his snarky comments and threats. Hence why he now has a foul-smelling and -tasting cloth stuffed in his mouth and secured in place.
His mind flits to Morgan, worry welling up in his chest. He hasn’t seen her since he was first dumped in this tiny, dirty room.
He berates himself again for being stupid enough to get nabbed by these guys on his way to school this morning. It had all just happened so fast—one minute he’d had his headphones blasting music in an attempt to wake him up while he texted Ned about their after-school plans and the next his spider-sense was going crazy. They’d had a cloth over his nose before his tired mind had the opportunity to process what was happening, and next thing he knew, he was waking up on the floor, trussed up like a baby calf at a rodeo.
He doesn’t know where they’re being held. It can’t be anywhere in the city because his enhanced ears aren’t picking up the sound of any street traffic. Either that or they’re deep underground.
Peter’s working on a plan, because he knows that they need to get out of here. He hopes to God that Tony is already out there searching for them. He knows the reason he and Morgan are being held is for money, since they’d all but told him as much when they came into the room and shoved a camera in his face. Which…what a stupid way to make a few—okay, maybe a lot of—bucks. These guys are obviously professionals; there’s no way this is their first venture into illegal activities. They know what they’re doing, but they aren’t too smart if they thought snatching up the daughter of a literal superhero and technical genius was a good idea. No one wants to be on the receiving end of Tony Stark’s wrath.
Any plan Peter comes up with is too risky. He knows Morgan must be close by, but he also knows if he makes a move that he won’t have much time to find her before another one of their captors hurts her. And that is something that absolutely, under no circumstances, can be allowed to happen.
Peter might not have known Morgan for long—and sure, it was a little weird finding out that five years had passed without him and he suddenly came back to a world where Tony Stark was the father to a five-year-old spitfire—but he was immediately welcomed by the girl, who knew more about him than just about anybody besides May and Tony. It wasn’t difficult for Peter to become enamored with the miniature female version of Tony Stark, either, and the two made fast friends.
No way he’s letting anyone touch her.
But he’s getting worried. Because time is passing, and there’s still no sign of any rescuers. Peter knows they probably don’t have much more time, and he doesn’t doubt the seriousness of this crew to follow through with their threats. They certainly had no qualms with roughing Peter up.
On cue, the door swings open, and the leader—who Peter has only heard referred to as “Boss”—strolls in, pistol in hand. Another one of her cronies is with her, holding the same camera from earlier.
Peter straightens up, heart thumping as he prepares for whatever is about to come his way. Did he wait too long? Should he have tried something sooner? What if they’re doing the same thing to Morgan? She’s gonna be freaking out—
“It seems as though Mr. Stark has chosen to ignore our request.” Boss cocks the gun in her hands, showing it off as she leans against the wall. She’s still wearing the same mask all of them are wearing to hide their faces—cowards. “I could give him more time, but I’m not known for my patience. He thinks our threats are idle—well, we’ll have to see if we can speed things along a little.”
Peter barely has time to process the implications of that comment before she’s lifting the gun and pulling the trigger. He slams backward with the force of the bullet, pain blossoming in his left leg.
He tries to gasp, but only chokes on the gag in his mouth. He hears a muffled scream from across the hall, and he can only imagine—and hope—that it was just the sound of the gunshot that frightened her. Because if she’s been hurt, he’ll never forgive himself.
There’s no time to think anymore; he just knows that he has to do something. With a pained grunt, Peter snaps the ropes binding his hands behind his back and lunges forward.
Chaos erupts as Peter slams his body into the boss’s. They tumble to the ground together, fighting for control of the gun.
Peter knows the other two men in the room have weapons as well, but he’s hoping that being a moving target along with being so close to their boss will keep them from attempting to shoot at him. He hears them moving closer, and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before they try to pull him away and restrain him—
Another sound catches Peter’s attention, and shouting suddenly begins echoing outside of the room. The door bursts open in an explosion of woods and splinters, and in five seconds flat the room is swarming with armed men, with none other than Colonel Rhodes leading the charge.
Peter's fight with the boss is short-lived, as even injured, he easily overpowers her, wrenching the gun from her grasp and tossing it away.
It doesn’t take long for the other criminals to drop their guns and surrender, allowing themselves to be restrained by the new arrivals.
Peter struggles to roll over onto his side, ignoring the pain slamming through his leg. He gasps, letting out a breathy, “Rhodey” from behind the gag.
The colonel leaves the kidnappers to the others in favor of rushing over to Peter. “Hey, bud,” he says gently, immediately removing the offending piece of cloth and beginning to survey the bullet wound.
“Mor—Morgan,” Peter says the second the gag is out of his mouth, wide eyes meeting Rhodey’s. “Morgan. I have to—she, she’s—”
A terrified screech echoes from the room now visible through the door across the hall, only this time it sounds distinctly like “Peter! Peter!”
Peter shoves himself into a sitting position, brushing off Rhodey’s hands. “Morgan!” he hollers back, scrambling to get up. He makes it all of two steps before his leg gives out, and he crashes to the floor just as Morgan barrels into the room. Her face is red and streaked with tears, and Tony is right on her heels. She throws herself at Peter, small arms winding around his neck and squeezing tightly. The force of her little body slamming into him sends another sharp pain shooting up his leg, but he doesn’t care. He hugs her back, heart pounding in his chest as he realizes what a close call they just had.
Morgan’s crying harder now, and Peter knows there are tears in his own eyes. He hears someone say his name, and he opens his eyes as Tony crouches next to them, pulling them both into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says in a rush, sinking into the embrace even as he keeps his arms protectively wound around Morgan, who’s now in his lap. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I should have done something sooner. I should have been better. I should have saved her.
“No, no, hey—” Tony interrupts the apology spree, moving his hand to run it over Peter’s mussed hair. “None of this is your fault, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Peter can hear the utter relief in the man’s voice as he continues to mutter reassurances to both kids, probably just as much for himself as for them. Some days Peter still wonders what he did to deserve the affection of Tony Stark, but right now he’s simply grateful for it.
Tony pulls back a bit, and there’s a short pause. “Oh—Peter, your leg.”
“I’m okay.” Keeping Morgan’s head pressed against his shoulder so she doesn’t try to see what they’re talking about, Peter swallows shakily, meeting Tony’s eyes. “It’s fine. I’m—I’m so glad you found us.”
Tony lets out a big sigh, leaning forward to press his forehead against Peter’s. “Me too, bud,” he breathes. “Me too.”