Peter's wrists had been rubbed raw from his restraints, his head hung low, his blood and sweat matting his curly brown hair. His breathing was shallow, but he only was going to focus on one thing: not giving Mysterio what he wanted.
The dark, metallic room around him was silent, except for the slow, mechanical hum of the machines that drove him crazy. Vibranium cuffs held him to a chair, too strong for even his Spider-strength to break. His mask had been ripped off hours ago, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
Mysterio stood in front of him, the reflective dome of his helmet glinting under the dim light of the room. His voice was calm, almost condescending, but there was an edge to it, a dangerous edge.
"All this could be so much easier if you just cooperated, Peter," Mysterio said, stepping closer. His gloved hand reached out, lifting Peter's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze—or at least the void where his eyes should have been under that glass dome.
"You know Tony Stark better than anyone, so give me what I need," he grimaced. Peter gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold back the surge of panic. He couldn't let Mysterio see his fear. He wouldn't let Mysterio reach his family.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. His eyes flickered, trying to focus through the haze of exhaustion. Mysterio chuckled, pacing around him like a predator circling its prey.
"You've got his trust, his technology, access to everything Stark has built. Don't play dumb, Peter. You've got more than you realize," Mysterio spat.
"I don't know anything," Peter rasped, "and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
Mysterio's head tilted slightly as if considering Peter's words. Then, without warning, the room shifted. The walls began to blur and ripple in an aura of turquoise green, the metal melting away, replaced by an endless white void. Peter felt the all too familiar vertigo of Mysterio's illusions taking over, but he fought to stay grounded. In the void, Tony Stark appeared.
He wasn't wearing his Iron Man suit. He was just standing there, in his familiar charcoal suit, looking as calm and confident as ever. But Peter knew better, he knew this wasn't real.
"You're failing us, Peter," Tony's voice echoed, cold and sharp, "you're letting him win." Peter blinked, trying to block out the illusion.
"You're not him. You're not Mr. Stark," he muttered, clenching his fists. But Tony's figure stepped closer, his face stern, his eyes filled with disappointment.
"If you don't tell Mysterio what he wants, more people will die. You're not the hero you think you are, kid. You're just a liability," Tony's words were cold and distant.
Peter's chest tightened as the words dug into him. It wasn't real. It wasn't Tony. But the illusion was so sharp, so clear, it was hard to separate the truth from the lie.
"I... I can't..." Peter stammered, shaking his head, but the guilt was creeping in, seeping into his bones.
"You could've saved so many people by now," the illusion of Tony continued, walking closer until he stood directly in front of Peter, "but you're too stubborn. You're too selfish to admit you're in over your head."
Mysterio's voice overlapped with Tony's now, coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"It's simple, Peter. Give me what I want. Access to Stark's systems. His tech. His security protocols. All of it!" He demanded.
Peter's mind was racing, but deep down, he knew the truth. He couldn't give in. Tony would never want him to.
"No," Peter croaked, forcing his voice to be louder this time, "I'm not giving you anything."
The illusion of Tony narrowed his eyes, the disappointment deepening. "You're going to let them all die, Pete. Every single person you care about. Morgan, Harley, and Pepper. It's on you," the illusion of Tony was cold, distant, and demented. Nothing like the Mr. Stark he knew.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out.
"Shut up! You're not him! You'll never be him!"
"You're not... you're not him," Peter cried quietly to himself, letting the tears fall.
The white void around him exploded into fragments, the illusion shattering like glass. The fake Tony dissolved into thin air, leaving Peter alone again in the dark room with Mysterio.
Mysterio's helmet flickered, the smooth, reflective surface warping as he took a step forward.
"Still holding on to that hope, aren't you? You think Stark is going to swoop in and save you. That's not how this ends, Peter. This ends with you giving me what I need."
Peter looked up, his eyes burning with exhaustion but filled with defiance. "He's not coming for me. I know that," Peter lied through his teeth, "but I don't need him to save me."
Mysterio paused, his posture stiffening as Peter's words hung in the air.
"I don't care what you do to me," Peter continued, his voice raw but steady, "I'm not giving you anything. Not Stark's tech, not his secrets, nothing."
Mysterio's hand clenched into a fist at his side, his frustration clear even behind the dome of his helmet. "You think you're a hero," he spat, his voice darkening, "but you're just a kid in over his head. Stark chose wrong when he trusted you."
Peter's chest tightened, but he forced himself to meet Mysterio's gaze, refusing to back down. "Maybe I am just a kid," he said, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through his body, "but I'm not giving you what you want. Mr. Stark trusts me, and I'm not going to betray him."
Mysterio let out a low, humorless laugh. "Then I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."
With a wave of his hand, the room shifted again, the metal walls warping into a new nightmare.
But Peter didn't care anymore. No matter what illusions Mysterio threw at him, no matter what he did, Peter wasn't going to break. The room shifted again. Peter's vision blurred as Mysterio's illusions wrapped around him, but the defiance burning inside him kept him focused. He wouldn't break. He couldn't. Not for Mysterio. Not for anyone.
"You're making a mistake, Peter."
Peter lifted his head, meeting the invisible gaze of his tormentor. "Maybe," he said, his voice raw but unwavering, "but I'm not giving up my family for anything. Not for you. Not for anyone."
Mysterio let out a long, dangerous breath. "You're going to regret that."
But Peter didn't flinch. His body was battered, his mind exhausted, but his spirit, his will, remained unbroken.
"Whatever you throw at me next, I won't break," Peter said, glaring up at Mysterio, "you can't have Mr. Stark. You can't have Harley, Pepper, or Morgan. And you can't have me."
Mysterio stared at him for a long, tense moment before finally turning away. "We'll see about that."
With a wave of his hand, the room plunged into darkness again, the familiar hum of the machines echoing in Peter's ears. But despite the physical and mental torment, Peter held on to one simple truth: Mr. Stark was still out there. And Peter wasn't going to give up on him.
—————
The Avengers Tower was silent, except for the hum of Tony's gauntlet as he scrolled through yet another set of surveillance footage. His eyes burned from staring at the screens for hours, but he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care. Not with his kid, Peter Parker, still missing.
Pepper, Harley, and Morgan were all worried sick about Peter. Peter had been gone for almost a month. Of course, Pepper and Harley had a better understanding of the situation than Morgan did, but everyone's worries came across just the same.
"FRIDAY, anything new on those satellite sweeps?" Tony asked, his voice raw with exhaustion.
"Negative, boss. No visual confirmation of Mr. Parker or any unusual activity matching Mysterio's profile," FRIDAY responded, her voice sympathetic but unwavering, "but I've expanded the search radius. We'll keep looking."
Tony rubbed his face with both hands, fighting the frustration clawing at him. It had been days since Peter vanished—no signals from his suit, no response on his phone. It was like the kid had disappeared into thin air. But Tony knew better. Mysterio was involved, and that meant Peter was out there somewhere, trapped in one of Beck's sick illusions or worse.
Tony hated this feeling, the helplessness, the gnawing anxiety that something horrible had already happened and he was too late. He slammed his fist onto the table, the metal echoing through the empty room. Pepper came into the room upon hearing her husband's distress.
"This is my fault, Pep," Tony muttered to his wife, "I should've been paying more attention. I should've seen this coming."
"You couldn't have predicted this, Tony," Pepper said gently, taking her husband's fragile form into her arms, "you've done everything possible."
"Not enough," Tony whispered, "I haven't done enough until I find him."
Pepper understood Tony's stress. She really, truly did. She was stomach-twistingly worried sick about Peter, so she couldn't imagine how Tony felt.
He stood up abruptly, pacing the control room. The tower felt too big, too empty without Peter's voice or his restless energy. Over the last few years, Peter had become like a second son to Tony—someone he wanted to protect, to guide, and now... now he was gone. And Tony had no idea where. He was on the verge of hitting the table again when the door slid open.
Harley walked in, looking just as ragged as Tony. His hair was disheveled, and dark circles framed his eyes. He had been working non-stop with Tony, combing through surveillance footage, running checks on Stark Industries systems, trying to find any clue where Mysterio had taken Peter.
"You're still at it," Harley said, his voice hoarse. Tony gave a stiff nod.
"I'm not stopping," Tony muttered, "not until I find him."
"I know. And neither am I," Harley replied, walking over to the nearest console and tapping in some commands. He leaned in close to the monitor, his eyes scanning the screen with an intensity Tony recognized—his stubbornness reflected in Harley.
Tony appreciated it, but he couldn't shake the fear gnawing at him. "You should get some sleep, Harls," Tony said quietly, his voice laced with guilt, "you're still a kid. You shouldn't have to do this."
Harley shot him a look. "I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. And Peter's my brother. I'm not gonna just sit around while he's out there with that freako, wherever the hell he is."
Tony blinked, the word brother hanging in the air between them. It hit him hard. Harley wasn't just helping out of obligation or because he was good with tech. This was personal for him. Peter had become family to Harley over the years, in the same way Peter had for Tony.
"I'm not giving up on him," Harley added softly, his voice shaking slightly, "he'd do the same for me."
Tony felt a lump rise in his throat, but he quickly suppressed it. He knew it was true and this was no time for getting emotional. He needed to stay focused, to keep moving forward.
Just then, the door opened again. Tiny footsteps padded across the floor, and a small voice broke the silence.
"Daddy?" It was Morgan, her voice soft but full of worry. She was clutching her stuffed rabbit, looking up at Tony with wide, concerned eyes.
Tony froze, his heart breaking just a little at the sight of her. Morgan had been asking about Peter every day since he disappeared. And every time, Tony had avoided giving her any real answers. He couldn't. He didn't know what to say.
Morgan tugged at his sleeve. "Is Peter coming home soon?" she asked, her innocent question hitting him like a ton of bricks.
Harley glanced over at Morgan, his face softening. "Hey, kiddo," he said gently, kneeling to her level, "Peter's tough. He's gonna be okay."
Morgan turned her big eyes toward Harley, her lip trembling. "But what if he's scared? What if the bad guy hurts him?"
Tony swallowed hard, stepping over to Morgan and kneeling beside Harley. He reached out, brushing her hair back gently. "We're doing everything we can to find him, Morgs. And Peter's strong. He can do this, I know he can. He just has to hold on for a little longer."
Morgan stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "You promise?"
Tony's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't make that promise, not with the uncertainty gnawing at him. But he forced himself to smile for her sake. "Yeah, sweetheart. I promise."
Morgan nodded again and wrapped her arms around her dad's neck, holding on tight. Tony closed his eyes, hugging her back, letting her warmth ground him for just a moment. He felt Harley's hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity.
After a few moments, Morgan pulled away, looking up at both of them. "You'll bring him home, right?"
Tony met Harley's gaze, both of them sharing the same unspoken resolve. They would bring Peter home. No matter what it took.
"Yeah," Tony said quietly, his voice firm, "we will."
—————
"FRIDAY, tell me that's what I think it is," Tony said, barely breathing, his heart pounding in his chest.
"That is indeed a match for Peter Parker's last known biometric signature," FRIDAY responded, "location is a remote facility on the outskirts of the city, just beyond Staten Island. I'm pulling satellite imagery now."
Tony's grip tightened on the edge of the desk. He'd been searching for days, following false leads, fighting back the growing fear that he was too late. Now, finally, he had something. He exhaled sharply, his mind racing.
"Zoom in. Give me a closer look at the area," Tony ordered, standing abruptly. He stepped closer to the hologram, studying the feed as FRIDAY enhanced the satellite images. The facility looked industrial—abandoned, isolated. Exactly the kind of place Beck would use to hide someone without drawing attention.
"Thermal scans show multiple heat signatures inside the structure," FRIDAY reported. "One of them matches Peter Parker's profile. He's alive, but his vitals are weak."
Tony's breath caught in his throat. Alive. Peter was alive. But "weak" wasn't a word he wanted to hear.
"Has Beck been detected?" Tony asked, his tone sharp as he scanned the building, "any sign of him or his illusions?"
"Nothing concrete, but the area is heavily shielded. There's a significant chance that Mysterio's tech is disrupting our readings," FRIDAY replied, "I recommend proceeding with caution."
Tony nodded, trying to keep his mind from spiraling. Caution wasn't exactly in his vocabulary when Peter's life was on the line. But he knew better than to rush in blind. Mysterio had already proven he was dangerous, and this could very well be another one of his traps.
"Okay, send the location to Rhodey and the team," Tony said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Tell them to prep for a coordinated strike. I don't want to go in guns blazing until we know what we're dealing with."
"Message sent," FRIDAY confirmed. "Shall I prepare your suit, sir?"
Tony hesitated, staring at the glowing outline of the building where Peter was being held. He could almost picture the kid inside, alone and scared, waiting for someone to save him. And yet... this felt wrong. Too easy. Too obvious. Beck had been one step ahead of them the entire time—what was stopping him from springing one last trap?
"Not yet," Tony muttered, shaking his head. "I need more information. Scan the facility for weak points—any potential ways in or out without triggering an alarm."
As FRIDAY worked, Tony paced the room, his mind racing. It didn't make sense. Why would Beck leave Peter in a place where they could find him? Why wasn't there more security, more misdirection? Unless... unless this wasn't about Peter at all. Unless Beck had planned this to lure Tony into a final confrontation.
"Boss, I'm detecting faint electromagnetic signatures inside the facility," FRIDAY reported, "they're similar to the ones we've seen in Beck's drones. He may have rigged the place with illusions or traps."
Tony stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing. Of course, Beck wouldn't make it simple. This wasn't just a rescue mission—it was a game. And the stakes were higher than ever.
"Is there any indication that Peter's suit is still functional?" Tony asked, thinking back to the upgrades he'd made for the kid. If Peter could tap into any of the systems Tony had built into his suit, they might have an advantage.
"There's a faint signal, but it's heavily scrambled," FRIDAY replied.
"The suit has likely been disabled or compromised, but when you are within range of the suit, Karen should be able to give me his vitals, Boss."
Tony's fist clenched at his side. Beck had thought of everything. He'd taken Peter, stripped him of his defenses, and now, he was waiting for Tony to walk right into his trap.
But Tony wasn't about to give Beck the satisfaction. He wasn't going to let some wannabe illusionist outsmart him. Not this time.
"FRIDAY, run simulations for tactical entry," Tony said, his voice hard, "I want every possible scenario on my desk in five minutes. If we're going in, we're going in smart."
As FRIDAY pulled up schematics and began calculating, Tony stepped back, his mind still spinning. He'd found Peter, but the hard part was just beginning. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Not when Beck was still out there, waiting for him to slip up.
But Peter was close. He was right there, just within reach. And Tony was done waiting.
"Sir, all simulations suggest that this facility is a high-risk zone," FRIDAY began, "there's a 78% probability that Mysterio will attempt to deceive you through visual and auditory illusions."
Tony smirked grimly. "Yeah, well, Beck doesn't know who he's messing with. I've beaten worse than him."
He glanced at the hologram of the facility one last time, his chest tightening as he imagined Peter trapped inside. His eyes hardened with determination.
"Get Rhodey and Nat on the line," Tony said, stepping away from the control panel, "we're going to bring him home."
—————
Peter knew something was changing when his enhanced hearing picked up an ear piercingly loud, mechanical like whirring from outside. He couldn't help but let it go. He had let himself go, anyway. After all, it was out of sight, therefore it needed to be out of mind. He had to focus on what was right in front of him. He's been in this stupid, godforsaken, underground, cell like structure for at least three weeks.
He'd been taken by Quentin Beck; Mysterio, as the general public knew him. He'd chosen to trust him on a school trip. It wasn't his best move, in hindsight. After all, it had gotten him kidnapped in broad daylight. The day he was taken, his stupid Spidey Sense had been bugging him all day. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what was going on, until he was kidnapped by fucking Mysterio, of course.
His head was pounding. Peter had only had whatever measly scraps Mysterio's men had left over. No matter how many scraps he was given, they weren't nearly enough to fuel his irregularly fast metabolism. Peter had grown accustomed to feeling weak and helpless in recent weeks. He hated it. He was Spider-Man, for fucks sake! He should've been able to break out of this dump by now.
But he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough. He couldn't break the vibrianum that he was encased in. He couldn't even walk himself to the room that he was brutally beaten and tortured in every day because of his holding room's severe lack of airflow that aided his exhaustion. Every once in a while the ventilation would fuck itself over, cutting off the room's oxygen supply for about a minute at a time, sometimes less, if he was lucky, by taking all of the oxygen through the vents.
He was trying to take deep breaths. He was hyperventilating for what seemed like the hundredth time today. He couldn't breathe. He heard the ventilation kick. Fuck.
He couldn'tbreathe. Holy shit Peter couldn't breathe and he couldn't get any air into his lungs.
Peter heard something, loud and clear, burst through the base floor of the building.
"He's still in his suit?" A voice spoke. Mr. Stark? Peter took off his mask, trying to get air into his lungs. It wasn't working.
"Get me directions to my kid, FRI! I don't know where I'm going here!" The same voice spoke again just seconds later. Maybe Mr. Stark had really come for him, or Mysterio was playing his tricks again. He couldn't be sure.
"Mr. St...ark, I'm down... here! Ple...ase," Peter choked out. He heard barreling footsteps thrash down the stairs. He couldn't breathe.
—————
"FRIDAY! Talk to me! Where's my kid?" Tony asked, using his suit to fly effortlessly above the building that Peter was presumably being held in.
"Peter is on the lowest floor of the building in a room built entirely with vibranium. The oxygen levels in the room are declining rapidly," FRIDAY explained.
"Shit, can you get me his vitals?" Tony asked urgently as he used his repulsors to dive towards the building's entrance. SHIELD Agents quickly took down Mysterio's men, along with the rest of the Avengers Team. Dr. Strange would be coming soon to deal with Mysterio.
"Karen has reported that Peter's oxygen levels are nearing dangerously low at 91%, sir. His heart rate is relatively high at 132 BPM. He is incredibly malnourished and will likely lose consciousness in roughly thirty seconds, Boss," FRIDAY explained. Tony had reached the ground now, about 40 feet in front of the building's entrance. He used his repulsors to propel himself towards the building at ground level, blasting Mysterio's men as he went.
"He's still in his suit?" Tony asked as he barreled through the entrance, although he knew it was a stupid question. He had to be if Karen was reporting Peter's vitals to FRIDAY.
"Yes, Boss. Though he's taken his mask off now," FRIDAY replied.
"Get me directions to my kid, FRI! I don't know where I'm going here!" Tony yelled as he ran aimlessly through the hallways. Each hallway looked the same, with multiple staircases going in multiple different directions. He'd never reach Peter in time if he didn't know how to find him.
"Mapping a route now, Boss," FRIDAY did as she was asked within seconds. Tony's feet practically flew down the multiple hallways and stairways as he kept running. Soon enough, he reached the large metal door that led to the room where Peter was being held captive. If Tony couldn't feel the buzz of his arc reactor on his chest, he would think that his heart had stopped. There was an impossibly small window on the door, giving him the smallest sight of Peter. He was filthy and visibly malnourished, and his skin was turning a shade of light blue.
—————
Suddenly, the door was thrown open. A large gust of air came Peter's way. He practically swallowed it before he could even process that Mr. Stark was crouched next to him with an un-armored hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, hey, Kid. Can you hear me?" Tony asked desperately as he lifted his faceplate.
Peter wanted to say something like, 'Yes, I hear everything within a 600-foot radius,' but he figured it wasn't necessarily the time for sarcasm. He also wasn't necessarily having the easiest time breathing, either.
"Yeah, yeah," Peter replied breathily. His confused look settled into a frown as he realized what this was. It was Mysterio messing with him again. He was tired of this. Other than being rescued, Peter wished for nothing more than to just suffer in silence.
"Mr... He's not here, Quentin. You can't trick me with this for the millionth time," Peter spoke with so many breaths in between each of his words that Tony was afraid he'd pass out. Tony's eyes crinkled on the edges out of sadness. What did Quentin do to his kid?
"No... no, Pete. It's me," Mr. Stark spoke so quietly that even Peter had to make sure he heard him right. Peter didn't trust Tony. He was trying to look for something, anything, that seemed off. To see if it was him or not.
"Here, I'll tell you something only I would know about you, would that help?" Tony asked. Peter nodded hesitantly. Mysterio could make you see whatever he wanted, but he couldn't look into your mind. At least Peter was pretty sure he couldn't. After all, if Mysterio wanted to look through his mind, he probably would have by now.
"Well... there was this time at the tower. We were watching The Force Awakens, and you dropped your chocolate ice cream on the new rug Cap bought that same day. After I replaced it, you still made me swear not to tell him or... anyone, really," Tony chuckled at the memory.
"It must be you, then," Peter replied, still catching his breath. He ran his hand through his filthy, greasy, slightly matted hair, trying to get a grip on reality.
"Yeah, it's me, Pete. Are you... well, you're not okay. I need you to put this on," Tony took off his helmet and placed it on Peter's head. He snapped the faceplate close, watching Peter closely. With Tony's helmet and oxygen support, he was finally able to catch his breath.
"I'm sorry, that was so weird and..." Peter trailed off, slouching down out of exhaustion. He felt Tony's hand move from his shoulder to his back.
"Don't say you're sorry. This isn't your fault, alright? Not at all," Tony argued. Peter nodded into his knees, slowly, as if he didn't fully believe Tony. They would work on that.
"It was like... I couldn't think straight. I couldn't process anything fully," Peter explained, his voice muffled.
"Well, oxygen depletion will do that to you," Tony acknowledged.
"Oh. Yeah... that makes sense," Peter spoke softly as he picked his head up.
"We need to get you out of here," Tony prepped his suit with a button on his smartwatch, "I'm gonna help you out to the Quinjet, okay? Strange will be here any minute to deal with Mysterio. Cap and Bucky have him for now. Strange is gonna send him through that falling thing for... pretty much forever. Y'know, the one he put Loki in and Thor never shuts up about it," Tony chuckled. Peter laughed at the memory, too, wincing when his laugh moved his shoulder.
Peter still wasn't sure. His breaths were shallow, each one fighting for air that felt too thin. Tony knelt next to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Peter shivered at the contact—it felt cold, almost metallic. No. It had to be real.
"Hey, Underoos, stay with me, okay? You're gonna be fine," Tony said, his voice oddly muffled for a second, as it came through a wall. Peter's head throbbed.
"I... I'm trying," Peter choked out, forcing himself to believe it. But something in the way Tony's faceplate glitched for a second—the brief flicker of green light—made his heart pound harder.
The air suddenly felt colder. Tony's hand… was it really Tony's hand?It gripped Peter's shoulder too tightly. His face twisted, but Peter couldn't make sense of it. Tony's features flickered, pixelated like static on a broken TV screen.
And then it melted away.
Where Tony had knelt, there was nothing but a shimmering green haze. The walls of the room rippled, turning into liquid metal, and Mysterio's voice, twisted and distorted, echoed from every corner. "You really thought he was here, didn't you, Spider-Boy?"
Peter gasped as the room morphed around him, his body sagging back to the cold, hard floor. The ceiling twisted into a spinning vortex, and Tony… no, not Tony, was gone, leaving Peter alone, suffocating again.
—————
Peter's breath hitched in his throat as the walls warped around him. Tony was still crouched by his side, his face filled with worry, but the floor was no longer solid. It felt like sand, slipping away beneath him. A low, mocking voice echoed through the room.
"You can't believe this, Peter," Mysterio's voice taunted, curling through the air like smoke. "You know it's all a lie. Tony isn't here. He never was."
Peter tried to focus on Tony, but his vision blurred, the man's form flickering between something real and something false. The warmth of Tony's hand on his shoulder, it felt real, but Mysterio's voice dug into his mind like a thorn.
"Peter, listen to me," Tony's voice cut through, but even that sounded distant now, distorted.
"I'm here, Kid. I'm real. You have to trust me."
"No, you're not," Peter whispered, the panic rising in his chest. His breaths were coming faster, more ragged. "This... this is Mysterio. I'm not falling for it again."
Mysterio's laughter grew louder, circling Peter. "That's right, Spider-Boy. It's all fake. He's not real. He's just another illusion."
The room swirled, twisting out of control. Tony's face—flickering like static, then solid, then not again. Peter clutched his head, trying to push the voices out, trying to push Tony out. He couldn't handle another illusion. He couldn't handle more hope being ripped away. His chest tightened, his vision blackened at the edges.
"Pete!" Tony's voice broke through the storm of illusions. It was raw, desperate. He grabbed Peter's shoulders and shook him slightly, trying to ground him, trying to break through the fog.
"Focus on me. Look at me," Tony's hands tightened, gripping Peter firmly. But Peter only shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't. He couldn't fall for it again. It wasn't real.
Tony gritted his teeth, fighting the rising panic in his chest. Mysterio was tearing Peter apart, mentally and physically, and Tony knew he was running out of time.
"FRIDAY, shut off everything. Strip the illusions. I don't care how, just give me something real to show him!" Tony barked.
But it was too late. The world around Peter was closing in, suffocating him. Mysterio's voice echoed louder now, an endless loop of mockery.
"None of this is real. You're alone, Peter. You've always been alone."
The room darkened, collapsing inward. Tony was fading—just like every other illusion. Peter's hands curled into fists, but his muscles were weak. His senses were dull. He couldn't trust anything anymore. He could barely breathe.
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, his voice shaking. "I can't... I can't..."
Tony's heart shattered at those words. He leaned down, his face close to Peter's. "Hey, hey, Peter, no. You can."
And then Tony did the only thing he could think of. He ripped his gauntlet off and pressed his bare hand to Peter's cheek, firm and steady.
"Feel that, Pete? That's me. That's real. I'm here, Underoos. I'm not leaving you."
Peter blinked. The warmth of Tony's hand against his cold skin, it felt different. Different from the illusions. Solid. Grounding.
Mysterio's voice was still there, clawing at him, but it started to falter. Tony was speaking again, his voice raw with emotion.
"Remember when I told you about that time when we watched Star Wars at the tower? You dropped your ice cream, and I swore I wouldn't tell Cap? That was real. You're not alone, Pete. You're never alone."
Peter's vision blurred with tears. He could feel it. He could feel Tony. The warmth, the weight of his hand on Peter's face, the way Tony's voice shook with fear for him. It broke through the haze, like light piercing through dark clouds.
Mysterio's voice hissed, "It's not real!"
But Peter could see it now—the cracks in the illusion. The room flickered like a faulty projector. The darkness peeled back, revealing the cold, metallic walls of his cell. Mysterio's voice became distant, weaker until it was nothing more than an echo.
Peter sucked in a breath, feeling the weight lift from his chest. He was back. He was in the cell, but Tony, Mr. Stark was real.
His shaking hand reached up to grab Tony's wrist, gripping it tightly, grounding himself in the reality of it. "Mr. Stark... I... I thought..."
"I know, Kid. I know," Tony's voice cracked, and he pulled Peter into his arms, holding him tight.
"But I'm here. I've got you. You're safe," Tony cradled Peter close to himself, "I'm not going anywhere, Pete."
"We've gotta go now, alright? We've gotta get you out of here," Tony spoke with such urgency that Peter could tell there was more to this than he understood.
"I... I can't get up," Peter said softly. At one point or another, someone had taken Peter's handcuffs off. Peter couldn't be sure of when, everything was a blur.
"I know, Pete. I'll help you," Tony spoke quietly, wrapping Peter's arm around his shoulders and pulling him up.
"Thank you," Peter mumbled, mask in hand, as Tony walked him up the stairs.
"No problem, kid. No need to thank me," Tony replied, "is your oxygen doing better?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can breathe now," Peter answered quietly.
Tony was on high alert as he led his kid through the long, windy, dark hallways of Mysterio's warehouse. He didn't want anything or any one of Mysterio's to stop him from getting Peter to the safety of the Quinjet.
"Good, good. You're gonna be outta here in just a minute, okay? Just one more hallway," Tony spoke quietly and gently, trying to encourage Peter to keep going. Just one more hallway. Just one more flight of stairs. Just one more step. Just one more.
'Stark, I've got eyes on Beck, over.'
"Uh, Mr. Stark? Someone's talking to you," Peter said as Tony led him up the ramp of the Quinjet.
"Oh, yeah, I'm gonna need that back, Underoos. Hang on," Tony said as he took his helmet off of Peter's head and onto his own.
"Repeat, Stark, I've got eyes on Beck, over," Strange said into the comms.
"Strange, you don't have to say over, it's a communication system," Tony replied.
"Well, in that case, it sounds like Peter's alive and well. I wouldn't say he sounds well, but you have a good start," Strange commented mindlessly.
"Wow, really? Y'know, your remarkable intelligence never fails to amaze me," Tony replied sarcastically.
"I could just turn around and go home, Stark," Strange spoke nonchalantly.
"You wouldn't. You want- no, you need, this guy gone just as much as I do," Tony argued.
"No wonder everyone calls you a genius," Strange spoke with such a heavy layer of sarcasm that even Tony was baffled.
"But seriously, Strange, thank you. I appreciate this," Tony replied.
"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't mention it. Wong would piss himself if he found out about this," Strange replied.
"We'll chat later, Strange. Gotta take care of my kid now," Tony lifted his face plate set the helmet down on one of the padded benches of the Quinjet, and helped Peter sit down next to him.
"I'm gonna check your head, okay? Does it hurt at all?" Tony asked as he weaved his hands through Peter's hair as best as he was able.
"Uh, yeah really bad," Peter replied.
"You have a few cuts on you, Bambino. Just try to get some rest, but no sleep until we get you to see Dr. Cho, we don't need any comas today," Tony informed the boy.
"Mr. Stark, I'm exhausted," Peter replied as he lay against Tony and the jet took off. Natasha was flying it as quickly as she could to the tower while Steve and Rhodey manned the navigation.
"FRI, talk to me, when was the last time Pete got some sleep? On his own, not from induced unconsciousness," Tony asked his AI worriedly, rubbing his hand up and down Peter's shoulder.
"It's been seventy-seven hours and fourteen minutes since Mr. Parker has had proper sleep, sir. Before this, he slept for two hours and forty-nine minutes. Although Karen's signals were scrambled, she has reported that overall Mr. Parker has had roughly forty hours and twelve minutes of sleep since he was taken."
Peter thought about this for a minute. How long was he gone, really? He knew it was at least three weeks. His internal body clock told him that much.
"FRIDAY? How long was I gone for?" Peter asked the AI timidly.
"Pete-" Tony tried to warn him, but it was too late.
"You were missing for 31 days, 16 hours, and twelve minutes, Peter," FRIDAY replied.
"Oh," Peter replied quietly.
"You've had about six nights' worth of rest in a month, Pete. It's okay that you're exhausted. The strongest super-being in the world would be, too. You've been through so much, kid. It's okay to rest," Tony explained calmly as he internally itched to get to MedBay quicker.
"Take your own advice," Peter shrugged. Tony chuckled, he was glad his kid was still in there somewhere.
"We'll be there in a few minutes, Underoos. Then Cho will put you on an IV and you can get some sleep," Tony replied.
————
"FRIDAY? Where's Tony?" Pepper asked the AI intuitively.
"He is currently just off of Staten Island, Mrs. Potts. Tony, Harley, and I were able to find a heat signature that matched that of Peter Parker. Both Tony and Peter have interacted with me from the Quinjet in the past ten minutes, so I must assume that Peter has been rescued."
Pepper froze as FRIDAY's words registered. Peter was alive. Her hands gripped the counter as a wave of relief crashed over her, so intense it nearly knocked her off balance. For weeks, she had held herself together, pushing through every dead-end lead, every night spent comforting Tony when the silence was too loud.
Now, the boy she had come to love like family was safe.
Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor, tears spilling over as she pressed a hand to her mouth. The dam she'd kept up for Tony's sake finally broke. Peter—what had they done to him? What had he suffered through all this time? The thought tore at her heart, but she reminded herself that Tony had found him. He was safe now.
After a moment, she wiped her face, standing shakily but resolute. "FRIDAY, let me know the moment the Quinjet lands."
"Yes, Mrs. Potts."
Pepper inhaled deeply, her pulse still racing, but her heart lighter. Peter was coming home. That was all that mattered.
—————
"Hey, FRI? Has Dad found any leads yet? Noticed that his suit took off, I'm just not sure if he's chasing one of Fury's leads again. That guy hasn't gotten us anywhere," Harley asked the AI as he used his Dad's tech to search the entire state of New York for his brother.
"It seems that your Dad has found Peter, Harley. They have both interacted with me from the Quinjet in the past ten minutes. Peter was found just off of Staten Island," FRIDAY replied.
"You better not be fucking with," Harley corrected himself, "I mean messing with me. Sorry."
"It's alright, Harley. I can assure you that your efforts helped your Dad find Peter. They are most likely on their way to Medbay," FRIDAY replied solemnly.
Harley took a moment to process her words. Harley's brother, in all but blood, had finally been found after four and a half weeks of captivity and whatever brutal torture Mysterio had subjected him to.
"I... thank you, FRI. I don't know if I say this enough but... thank you, I appreciate you," Harley whispered.
"No need to thank me, Harley," the AI replied. Harley only nodded.
"Please don't tell Morgan where he is when he gets here. You can tell her that he's home and safe, just not where to find him. Pete's been gone for a month, I'm sure he looks rough and I don't want that to scare her. If she somehow finds her way to wherever he ends up, don't give her access until he looks a little better," Harley explained in a rush.
"Of course, Harley. Mrs. Potts asked me to alert her when the Quinjet lands. I'll let you know as well," FRIDAY replied.
"Thank you so much, FRI," Harley said.
—————
The Quinjet's engines were barely winding down when Harley burst out of the building, sprinting toward the ramp. His heart pounded in his chest, each step fueled by a mix of hope and fear. They had found Peter. He was here. But Harley had no idea what condition his brother was in. He wasn't prepared for how broken Peter might be.
The ramp lowered, revealing his Dad standing beside and supporting a slumped figure.
Peter.
Harley's breath hitched as he saw him for the first time in over a month. Peter looked so small, his body bruised and battered, his suit torn. His face was pale, his eyes half-closed, barely conscious.
But he was alive.
"Peter!" Harley shouted, his voice cracking as he ran up the ramp.
Peter's head lifted slightly at the sound of his name, his tired eyes squinting as he tried to focus on the figure running toward him.
"Harls?" Peter's voice was weak, barely more than a whisper, but it was unmistakable.
Harley didn't slow down, rushing straight to Peter and practically collapsing into him. Without hesitation, he pulled Peter into a tight embrace, his hands gripping his brother's thin frame, careful but desperate to feel that he was real, that he was alive.
Peter tensed for a moment, surprised by the intensity of the hug, but after a second, he leaned into it, his body trembling as he rested his nose against the front of Harley's shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.
His voice, shaky but grateful, barely managed a whisper. "You... you're here."
"I'm here, Pete. You're safe now," Harley choked out, his voice thick with emotion. He buried his face against Peter's shoulder, hiding the tears that welled up in his eyes. "You're okay."
Peter's arms moved slowly, weakly wrapping around Harley as best as he could manage. His grip was loose, but the comfort of having Harley close was all he needed at that moment. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," Peter mumbled, his voice breaking.
Harley pulled back just slightly, his hands still on Peter's shoulders as he looked him in the eyes, tears glistening but unshed. "We were looking for you the whole time. You're my brother, Pete. I was never gonna give up on you."
Peter's lip trembled, and he nodded slowly, the weight of everything catching up to him as he leaned back into Harley's embrace.
"Thank you," Peter whispered.
Harley held him tighter, not caring about the dirt, the bruises, or how tired he was. He just needed to hold his brother, to know that Peter was really here, back with them. "We've got you now, Pete. You're home."
————
The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air as Peter slowly regained consciousness in MedBay. He felt disoriented, the world around him spinning before settling into a more stable blur. Blinking against the harsh overhead lights, he tried to make sense of where he was. The last thing he remembered was the Quinjet ramp lowering, Harley hugging him, and then... nothing. Panic briefly flared in his chest, but the rhythmic beeping of monitors assured him he was safe.
"Hey, there you are," a familiar voice broke through the haze. It was Dr. Helen Cho, her kind face leaning into his line of sight. She wore a warm smile that eased his anxiety, but he could see the concern etched on her brow. "How are you feeling, Peter?"
"Uh, I don't know," he mumbled, his voice scratchy. He tried to move but was quickly reminded of the ache that spread through his body. "Everything hurts."
"Totally understandable," she replied, her tone soothing as she checked the readings on a nearby monitor. "You've been through a lot. We're going to take good care of you, alright? Just relax."
Peter nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He caught a glimpse of Bruce Banner at a workstation, his hands busy organizing medical supplies. Bruce glanced over, his expression softening as he caught sight of Peter's wakefulness.
"Hey, champ," Bruce said, stepping closer. "You gave us quite a scare. I'm just going to check a few things, okay?"
"Okay," Peter replied, trying to focus on the two of them. They were here. He was safe. The panic began to recede, replaced by a deep exhaustion.
Dr. Cho gently pressed a cool hand to his forehead, her fingers brushing against his hair.
"Just a couple of tests, and then you can get some rest, I promise."
Peter winced as she began to assess his injuries—various cuts and bruises littered his body like a map of his suffering. He tried to ignore the pain, but it was hard to shake off the memories of what had happened.
"Just breathe through it, Peter. You're doing great," Bruce encouraged, his voice steady and calm.
After several minutes of examination and treatment, Peter felt a weight lift slightly from his chest. The medical team worked seamlessly, applying bandages, checking vitals, and offering quiet reassurances. Finally, once they finished, Dr. Cho smiled down at him, relief evident in her eyes.
"All done," she said cheerfully. "You did really well. We're going to give you some fluids through an IV, and then I recommend some rest. You need it."
"Thanks, Helen," Peter murmured, feeling drained.
As the two doctors left the room, the door slid open again. Tony stepped in, his face a mixture of relief and concern. Peter's heart raced. Seeing Tony made everything feel more real, but the memories of his kidnapping rushed back, heavy and suffocating.
"Hey, kid," Tony said softly, taking a few steps closer. "How are you holding up?"
"I... I don't know," Peter admitted, his voice trembling. "I thought I was going to die."
Tony's expression darkened, and he moved to sit beside Peter on the edge of the medical bed. "You're safe now. We got you back, and that's what matters."
"I know," Peter replied, swallowing hard. "But I just... I can't shake what happened. It was so dark, and I kept thinking—" He stopped, the words stuck in his throat.
"What were you thinking?" Tony prompted gently, his eyes locked onto Peter's, filled with understanding.
"I thought I was alone," Peter whispered, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, “like, really alone. I kept trying to convince myself that you and everyone else were looking for me, but it felt so hopeless. I—"
He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to continue. "I kept seeing Mysterio. His voice wouldn't stop. He made me feel like I didn't matter."
Tony's heart broke for him. He reached out, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You matter, Pete. You matter to me. To all of us. You're not alone in this. Not anymore."
Peter looked down, fighting the urge to let the tears fall. "It felt like I was lost for so long. I just... I didn't want to be a burden. I thought you guys would be better off without me."
"Stop right there," Tony said firmly, his voice low but intense, “you are never a burden. You're my kid. You're part of this family. And family sticks together, no matter what."
"But I'm not even sure I can do this anymore," Peter admitted, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air, “I don't know how to get over this."
"We'll figure it out together," Tony promised, his voice steady. "You don't have to face this alone. I'll be right here, every step of the way."
Peter felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. "You mean it?" he asked, searching Tony's eyes for sincerity.
"Of course I mean it. I'm not going anywhere," Tony assured him, pulling Peter into a gentle hug, careful not to jostle any of his injuries. Peter melted into the embrace, finding comfort in the warmth and strength of the man he admired most.
As they pulled away, Peter felt a bit lighter, the burden of his trauma still heavy but somehow manageable with Tony by his side. "Thanks, Mr. Stark. For everything."
"There's no need to thank me, Bambino. Okay? We're family," he said, giving Peter a reassuring smile.
"Okay," Peter replied, a small smile breaking through his uncertainty.
In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of his past pain, he felt a renewed sense of safety. With Tony there, he knew he wouldn't have to fight this battle alone.
—————
It had been two days since Peter's rescue. Harley, Tony, and Pepper had hardly left Peter's side, overjoyed that he was finally home. It was only after Peter looked... for lack of a better word, alive, that Peter allowed FRIDAY to give Morgan access to Peter's room in Medbay.
Morgan was over the moon when she heard the news that Peter was finally home. She had grown up with stories about Peter after the snap from Harley and Tony, so when he came to live with her, Tony, Pepper, and Harley, she was ecstatic. Peter was always ready to play Barbie’s with his little sister or let her play with her toys in his room while he did homework.
Morgan consistently asked FRIDAY about Peter after he was kidnapped. Questions like ‘FRIDAY, when will Petey come home?’ and ‘FRIDAY? Is Petey doing okay?’ were the most frequent questions asked by the six-year-old.
There was one specific instance where Morgan asked FRIDAY if she was able to tell her if Peter was still alive, and when she couldn’t provide an answer, Morgan had nightmare-ridden sleep.
—————
“Mommy! Daddy!” Morgan whispered in a panic, shaking her Dad awake. Tony and Pepper sat up in their bed groggily. Neither of them had been sleeping well since Peter went missing. Once Tony saw the tear streaks down his innocent daughter’s face, he was wide awake.
“Aw, bug. What’s wrong?” He asked, taking his crying baby into his arms. Pepper sat up fully as well, rubbing Morgan’s back with gentle circular motions.
“I…I had a bad dream, Daddy,” Morgan replied.
“Oh, sweetheart. What did you dream about?” Pepper asked, placing her kind, warm hand on her daughter’s cheek and wiping a few of the stray tears away.
Neither Pepper nor Tony were expecting the answer Morgan gave them.
“I-I had a dream that I saw Petey. He wasn’t awake, Mommy. He wasn’t taking breaths!” She sobbed. Tony made eye contact with Pepper, a deep fear and sadness in his gaze.
Of course, Morgan hadn’t meant to recall Tony’s deepest fear to the forefront of his brain, but she did. Still, this wasn’t about him. He had to be there for his daughter.
“Oh, love. Petey will be just fine. He’s strong, remember? Daddy and Harley are working hard to find him and bring him home,” Tony reminded his daughter.
“Like Spider-Man?” Morgan asked, wiping her nose. Tony chuckled. Tony, Pepper, and Peter had agreed to not tell Morgan about Peter’s secret identity until she was much, much older. Morgan wasn’t fantastic at keeping secrets. Even if it was something as simple as Spider-Man, Pepper was glad to see her husband happy.
“Yes, honey, just like Spider-Man,” Tony chuckled, planting a kiss on Morgan’s temple.
—————
“Petey!” Morgan shrieked, jumping onto the end of Peter’s hospital bed. Despite Pepper reminding her to be careful, she effortlessly and effectively used Peter as a jungle gym and climbed up on him.
“Hi, Mo,” Peter matched her demeanor, a tired, yet equally as enthusiastic smile spread across his face.
“I missed you! You were gone forever. Can we play Barbie’s soon? Please? Harley has been playing with me, and so have Daddy and Mommy, but they’re not as good as you,” Morgan asked, with no regard for Tony, Pepper, and Harley who were sitting in blue chairs on the opposite side of the room.
“I’m sorry, Mo, I can’t play with them in your room-” Peter began before being interrupted by Harley.
“Don’t be sorry, Pete. It’s not your fault. You’re recovering,” Harley reasoned a warm smile on his face.
“Yeah, Petey. You’re recobering,” Morgan agreed with her older brother but wasn’t sure why everyone was giggling.
“What? Harley just said he’s recobering! Why is it funny when I say it?” Morgan shrieked through her own fit of giggles.
Tony couldn’t decide if he should tell Morgan about her mistake in pronunciation, or if he should leave it alone. He’d done it with all three of his kids, not correcting them on mispronunciation when it was cute enough.
“Nothing, Morg. It’s okay. You’re just funny. You can bring your Barbie’s on the bed and I’ll play with you,” Peter finally answered her question.
“Oh thank shit,” Morgan sighed. Peter pulled his lips downward and pursed them inward, trying to suppress a laugh.
“Morgan!” Tony scolded her, although it wasn’t incredibly effective due to his fit of laughter, “You can’t say that! It’s Mommy’s word. She coined it, it’s hers.”
“I thought you said it all the time- ow!” Harley began before Tony flicked him in the arm.
Soon, Peter, Harley, Morgan, Pepper, and Tony had broken into a fit of laughter. Tony finally felt content. Maybe, from now on, their family could be whole.