Tony hates the sparkle in his intern's eyes. He hates her boyish smile, her brown, slightly curly hair.
He hates it because it reminds him too much of her.
"Oh, Mr. Stark, I, uh..." Peter stammers, interrupting her thoughts. "I've been to a ballet academy and I'm doing a solo next week. I don't know if... uhm, I'd like to come."
Tony stands still. He squeezes the screw tightly in his hand, takes a deep breath, and finally gives her a forced smile.
"I'll see if I can, kid."
Peter looks down for a moment, as if he knows the real answer behind those words. Still, he smiles. "Oh, all right, Mr. Stark."
She loved ballet too.
Her turns were impeccable, her posture perfect. Her expression conveyed more than words could say. She shone on stage like no one else.
Until, one day, her light simply went out.
She had just turned fourteen when it all came crashing down.
He should not go. He doesn't want to go. But he does it anyway.
He doesn't show up directly, doesn't sit in the front row or let Peter see him. He just watches from the shadows.
Peter appears on stage in a white suit, radiant under the lights. And then he dances.
Tony holds his breath. The precision of his movements, the passion in every turn... it's the same. Too painfully the same.
His heart burns. It only takes him a few seconds before his body reacts on its own. By the time he realizes it, he's already walking out of the theater with bated breath.
"You're perfect," he remembers saying to her once.
Now he sees it in Peter. That same perfection.
And he can't stand it.
Tony mumbles.
What was that kid thinking?!
When he finally makes sure everyone on the ship is safe, he flies straight at Peter, anger boiling in his chest.
"Previously on Peter screws the pooch..." he sneers as he lands near him. Peter is sitting up, cowering in on himself.
Tony doesn't sympathize.
"I told you to stay out of it," he says firmly. "But instead, what did you do? You hacked into a multimillion-dollar suit, snuck in and disobeyed the one damn thing-" he pauses, emphasizing each word "-that I told you not to do."
Peter still won't look at him. His voice is low, but firm. "Is everyone okay?"
Tony clenches his jaw. "No thanks to you."
Peter raises his head, offended. "No thanks to me?" He jumps to his feet, closing the distance between them. "Those guns were out there! I tried to warn you and you wouldn't listen!" His voice rises higher and higher. "None of this would have happened if you'd only listened to me!"
Tony's eyes narrow, Peter's gaze is alight, his hands balled into fists.
And then, like a punch in the gut, he says it:
"If you really cared, you'd be here."
Tony exhales, slow. He steps out of the suit without thinking, and Peter takes a step back, surprised.
"I did hear you, kid," he says, moving forward with calculated steps. Peter steps back again, like a trapped animal. "Who do you think called the FBI?"
Peter opens his mouth, but Tony doesn't give him a chance to speak.
"You know I was the only one who believed in you?" His voice is low, but sharp. "Everyone called me a nut for recruiting a fourteen-year-old-"
"I'm fifteen."
"No, this is the time you shut up," Tony cuts him off. "The adult is talking."
Peter gulps. He finds himself cornered against a dumpster.
Tony stares at him. His chest rises and falls rapidly. "What would have happened if someone had died?" The question drops like a hammer. "That would be another story, Peter. Because you'd have to carry that."
He is silent for a moment. Just the sound of the harbor in the background. "And if you had died... the blame would be mine."
Peter blinks. Something in his expression changes, but he doesn't give up.
"But I can help!" he insists. "I understand the risks! I want to be like you. I have these powers, I'm stronger than you think."
Tony shakes his head. "You're not strong enough, not yet!"
"Yes I am!"
Tony's breathing quickens. And before he can stop himself, he shouts, "Why won't you let me do this for you, Morgan?!"
Silence.
The whole world stops.
Peter looks at him, dumbfounded.
Tony feels the air suddenly leave him. He staggers back a little, as if the words have come out without his permission.
"I..." he stammers, but can't find anything else to say.
So he does the only thing he knows how to do.
He runs away.
"Mr. Stark, wait!" Peter runs after him. "I'm sorry, I... I understand."
Tony doesn't have time for this. He can't afford to be sorry.
He slips into his suit and, before taking off, blurts out the only thing he can say to him without breaking down: "I'll come back for the suit later."
Peter stands there, watching him go.
Tony doesn't look at him. He can't look at him now.
She also wanted to be a hero. She also thought she was ready.
"I just want to be like you!" cried Morgan, her voice cracking between frustration and pleading.
Tony closed his eyes for a second, holding back the urge to give in. He shook his head, his tone firm, no room for argument. "You're too young. Too naïve."
Morgan looked at him, hurt. For an instant, her lips parted, as if searching for the right words to convince him. But all she found was anger.
"If you taught me, maybe I wouldn't be!" Her gaze flashed with determination, the same determination Tony knew all too well. "I'm turning fifteen!"
He sighed, running a hand over his face.
God, why did she have to be so much like him?
"That's over seven months away," he said, not softening his voice. "And no. I'm not going to teach you."
Morgan opened her mouth, ready to retort. But Tony was already walking away. "Friday, block Morgan's access to his suit."
But the block didn't stop Morgan from hacking the suit.
It didn't stop her from donning the armor and flying out as soon as she heard the first emergency alert.
It didn't stop her from confronting a criminal.
Even if that criminal was far more dangerous than she first believed.
.
By the time Tony found it, it was too late.
The ruined building smelled of dust, burnt metal and blood. The floor was littered with debris and broken glass, reflecting the light of sirens flickering in the distance. The echo of the battle still hung in the air, as if the pain had been trapped within the shattered walls.
And there, in the wreckage of what had once been a sturdy structure, he saw her.
Small.
Fragile.
Too immobile.
Morgan lay under a chunk of concrete that covered part of her torso and one of her legs. Her suit, the one she should never have worn, was torn and dirty, burned in some places, dented in others. The blue light that should have glowed in the reactor in his chest flickered faintly.
But the worst thing was the blood.
The blood dripping from his abdomen.
The blood that stained the fabric of his suit.
The blood that soaked his hands when Tony touched her, when he desperately tried to pull her out of the rubble.
"-Morgan" his voice cracked as she whispered his name.
She moaned softly as she felt his touch. Her face was pale, pearly with sweat and ash. Her eyes, those eyes that had always sparkled with life, could barely stay open.
Tony pulled her out as carefully as he could, ignoring the trembling in his own hands.
"I've got you, I've got you, my little girl," he whispered, pressing her against his chest.
Morgan's body was cold.
Too cold.
Fear clutched at his throat like a cruel claw. "Stay with me.." he begged, his voice barely a whisper amidst the rain pouring down on them.
His daughter drew in a ragged breath, a brittle, broken sound.
Tony felt something warm run over his face and realized, he was crying.
"Morgan...please..." his voice broke, a choked sob escaping his chest. He held her closer, as if by just holding her he could keep her there, with him, and keep her from fading in his arms.
But Morgan did not respond.
Her breathing slowed. Weaker.
Tony leaned his forehead against hers, trembling. "I love you..." he whispered, his voice cracking with each word "I love you three thousand, so... please... hold on..., come back to me."
He waited for help.
And he waited for her to answer him with a tired smile, with "I too love you three thousand" in a barely audible whisper.
He waited for her to look at him, for her eyes to light up with that determination that had always characterized her.
He waited for she to come back to him. But her didn't.
Morgan Stark died the night of May 28.
And a part of him died with her.