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The battle was in full swing. Heroes and creatures battling and clashing everywhere around him. He had seen battle, sure, but never to this extent. Never had he seen the raw emotions on his comrades’ faces as they swung swords and magic shields around, killing enemies and protecting allies. Never had he seen so much blood being shed, all in the name of a war that should have never been in the first place. He knew some of the other heroes had seen and lived through literal wars, but the most he had ever done was take down a plane. Never had he had to fight for hours without seeing the end of the battle coming.
But then he witnessed them. As he was using the kill mode Tony had integrated in the codes of his suit in order to shake the space creatures from his back, he saw the man in question, not that far from him on the battlefield. He saw the mad titan – Thanos, he remembered the guardians of the galaxy telling him what felt like hours prior – try to snap his fingers, only for nothing to happen. He saw his dad raise his right hand, the stones now embedded in his iron suit, so pretty yet so deadly. He saw his dad throw his head back as the powers of the universe ran through him, clearly not meant for a small, puny human to withstand. He saw the tendrils of power running up his neck like small snakes of light, crawling just beneath the skin, poisoning his body so quickly.
He felt his body moving before even thinking about it. Felt his hand extend and his wrist snap in this oh so familiar way. Felt the web attach and pull at the fingers, trying to keep his hero from a certain death. Felt his own iron-covered hand close around the stones. Felt them go up, up, up through the suit and into his other hand — after all, he didn’t want Tony to pull the same trick he had just done.
He brought his fingers closer together, still looking right into the mad titan’s shocked and angry eyes. He felt the all-encompassing pain, knowing he had saved his dad from it.
Everything was moving too slow and yet too fast. His dad’s pleas to ‘stay awake’ and ‘continue fighting’ and ‘please don’t disappear on me again kid my heart can’t take it’ registering in his ears but never quite making sense for his distant brain.
Then there were others, all surrounding him as he lay half in his dad’s arms, half on an uncomfortable boulder. He wanted to say something, anything really to be able to comfort Tony, and yet the words never seemed to reach his tongue. Even a simple sorry, for he knew that the man would blame himself for not having protected him.
‘‘I… I lov- Love you- dad…’’
And then everything turned black.
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beeeeeeeeeep
‘‘Fuck!’’
‘‘We’re… kid!’’
‘‘We’re lo-... Quick!’’
‘‘… back kiddo… on!’’
‘‘Come on… -an that!’’
‘‘Please’’
‘‘No!’’
‘‘Peter!’’
The aftermath was much less pleasant than they had all thought it would be. Sure, they knew that a fight as big as the one they would have to face in the near future would not be without consequences. Injuries had been expected but death wasn’t always easy to think of.
Whenever he had thought of it in the past, he had thought of his own imminent death. I mean, don’t get him wrong, he really enjoyed being alive, especially these last few years. But there were times when all he wished for was his death. Being plunged in a basin of water while having a magnet in his literal chest certainly didn’t help, nor did being slowly killed by the one thing supposed to keep him alive, nor did being suddenly weightless as his aching hand let go of the bomb that was just about to destroy New York.
Yeah, he had lived through too many near-death experiences to count. But he hadn’t ever thought about his kid dying first.
His kid. Peter. One of the only people he trusted with his life, right alongside Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. The most amazing thing that ever happened to him. They say losing a parent is hard, but for most people, in the end, it is expected that you would outlive the ones that raised you.
Losing a child doesn’t even compare to the feeling.
God what was he gonna do. He was a wreck. It had been a week and his daughter was probably wondering why he hadn’t gone out to play with her even once. The funeral was tomorrow and he still hadn’t faced the kid’s aunt. He knew his wife had informed the woman, had held her as she sobbed her heart out. Had helped her overcome her sadness just enough for her to take a shower and eat even the tiniest bits of easy to swallow food.
She had tried to give him space, offer him his favorite foods in small bites, even just trying to coax him into drinking water. He would listen to her and do everything she asked of him, but he would never be aware of it, lost in thoughts and regrets.
Gosh he missed his kid.
Eventually came the time to gather all of the Avengers for one last goodbye. So everyone showed up nicely dressed, offering small saddened smiles and eyes filled with grief. Everyone knew Tony had a special connection with the kid. That is why he was the one holding up the small flower boat, standing next to Clint, holding one almost identical if it weren’t for the fact that the archer’s boat held small devices that Tony knew he had seen Natasha fight with – he swore she had once called them her widow bites – while the arrangement Tony himself held partially-hidden web canisters – empty of course, the formula had died with his creator, Peter always refusing to put it in writing for fear it would fall into the wrong hands.
And so they kneeled in the sand, the water lazily lapping at their carefully ironed suits. Behind them, dozens of heroes – kings, gods, humans and magicians – took a knee to the sand and looked down, a shared symbol of respect for the ones who had given their lives to save the ones of millions of others.
Clint lowered his hands to the water first, slowly letting the flowers float away with the current. They waited a few minutes before Peter’s flowers followed, bobbing up and down in the stream.
They stayed silent for minutes, maybe even hours, he couldn’t tell. Eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him towards the cabin. He was grateful for the hand, knowing he could have stayed forever just thinking of all the moments he had shared with his kid.
A few weeks later, when the public will start asking about the missing Queen hero, he will ask himself if he and May took the right decision. Later, when he stands in front of a microphone and hundreds of reporters he will ask himself if it was truly what his son would have wanted. Later, when the people of not only Queen, not only New York but the entirety of the world mourns a 16 year old who did all in his power to save others, even at the cost of his own life. Later, when he stands in front of the school he had so often parked in front, just waiting for the final bell to ring before he could whisk his kid away to their lab, he will let a few tears slip at the sight of the mountain of Spider-Man merch adorning the front steps, making it almost impossible to see the banner announcing to the world that a hero had given them hope.
And years later, when he looks his wife in the eyes, knowing that he would soon rejoin his kid in the afterlife, he will tell her he loves her with all that is left of his dying heart. She will respond that she knows, and that she also knows that a part of him is glad he will finally get to be reunited with Peter.