Tony awoke to a pounding headache, the kind he used to have in college when Rhodey didn’t make it in time to drag him out of a party before he drowned himself in alcohol. He groaned and then, from the left of him heard a small gasp, “Mr. Stark?! Are you awake?”
Peter’s voice made him sober up so to speak. He knew he wasn’t hungover though, he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since Peter started staying over at the tower more. He sat up as he peeled open his crusted exhausted eyes. His muscles screeched at him as he moved to an upright position. “Kid?” He looked over to Peter to find the boy about five feet away from him with metal shackles around his wrists. He quickly looked at his own wrists bringing attention to the added weight on his arms. The significance of their situation finally dawned on him. He looked back at Peter, “Are you hurt?”
“Just a bump on the head,” the kid shrugged, “it’s how they got the jump on me.”
“How bad?” Tony immediately pressed.
“Seriously nothing to worry about.” Peter’s statement was met by a disbelieving stare. Peter rolled his eyes despite the seriousness of the circumstances. “I promise I’m fine. No worse off than you I think, judging by the way you're squinting at me.”
Tony hadn’t even realized he was squinting, but the lights made his head hurt worse. Probably a minor concussion. He gives Peter a small nod of understanding before looking around and gauging their surroundings. They were in some sort of cell. In front of them was metal bars and behind them was a cold stone wall. In front of the, for lack of a better word, cage, was an open space before the door to outside of wherever they are.
Tony tugged on his restraints, but without the Iron Man suit, there was no way he was breaking out of those. “I think I can break them Mr. Stark.” Peter whispered.
If that was true then whoever took them doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man. Tony planned to keep it that way. “Don’t do it Peter. They don’t know and I don’t want them finding out your identity. It’s safer if we wait it out while the team tracks us down.” Peter huffs in frustration but doesn’t fight. He knows that Tony has more kidnapping experience than him, not that he’s complaining.
“When they come in, let me do the talking okay?”
“Okay,” Peter sighed.
It was a while until the kidnappers showed up. In the interim Peter talked on and on about how his week had gone. How school was and decathlon, and patrol. Tony was looking around trying to figure any way out, he was only half listening, but he made sure to add in a few “mhmm’s” and “nice job kid.” He didn’t want the kid to stop his ramblings since it was better than the boy focusing on the unknown, what happens next? Tony had been kidnapped quite a few times, even a couple when he was young. Taken by people who wanted something from his father. He remembers being scared the first few times, at least more than the rest, worried about what would happen, if Howard would come get him.
He never wants to be like his father, but this situation brings on too strong a sense of deja vu. If they didn’t know about Spider-Man then Peter was taken as collateral because of him. At least Peter isn’t alone like he was. He is snapped out of his thoughts by the click of a key in a lock. The door swings open and Tony scooches a bit more toward the bars, hoping to keep the attention on him by being in the spotlight.
Three men appear through the door. One is the obvious leader, the one in the middle of course. He is of average height and is dressed in an overly eccentric suit, and that’s coming from Tony Stark. His blond hair is slicked back and he has sunglasses on. Even if Tony had not been kidnapped he would have known this guy is a dick, only jerks wear sunglasses indoors, barring a medical or sensory issue. The two people behind him are in all black, including ski masks. Tony hypothesized that they are just hired goons protecting their identity.
“Welcome!” The mastermind of this operation exclaims. “This could be very simple if you wish it to be.” Tony rolls his eyes at the long exhausted villain speech, but he settles in to buy time. “I made some, let’s say, ill-timed bets and lost most of my money.”
“How sad,” Tony replied dryly.
“Isn’t it just,” the man said with no hesitation, ignoring the billionaire's sarcasm entirely. “I now have a way to get back what is mine, but I just need one thing from you to do so.”
Tony decided to play along, whether for amusement or to buy more time is lost even to him, “And pray tell, what might that be.”
“E.D.I.T.H.”
Whatever humor Tony might have found in the conversation crashed to the ground. E.D.I.T.H is amazing. E.D.I.T.H. is absolute genius. E.D.I.T.H is dangerous. E.D.I.T.H is deadly.
“What’s E.D.I.T.H?” Peter whispers.
“Something you shouldn’t know about yet,” Tony says in a powerful voice, eyes still staring at the man in front of him.
“Yet?” He hears Peter say, but ignores it.
“Welllllll,” The kidnapper says, drawing out the word accompanied by a let’s go gesture.
Tony’s curious, “Who exactly do you owe money to?”
The man smirks, enjoying the attention, “My good friend Quentin Beck.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, you can’t have them.” He wouldn’t have given E.D.I.T.H. over either way, but he had to know who was after his technology. Of course it was Beck, the maniac.
“No? I should hope you reconsider.”
“No.”
“Oh well,” the man sighed dramatically, “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” He turns around, “Grab him, boys.”
Tony steeled himself, ready for whatever they threw at him, but after the cell door is open the men brush past him and head toward his kid. “Get away from him!” Tony shouts, trying to get to Peter, but the chains are too short.
Peter surprisingly doesn’t look frightened, although he was full-on panicking inside. Outside though he meticulously put on a mask of deception, “I’ll be okay.” He promised his mentor as he was led past him.
“Let him go!” Tony shouted even so. “I’m the one you want information from, he has nothing to do with this!”
“You are absolutely right.” Tony turned his attention back to the leader, keeping Peter in his peripheral vision. He was surprised by the man's response. “He does have nothing to do with this, why make him suffer for it.”
Tony to a reliving breath, “Exactly.”
“Precisely.” The man smirked again and Tony felt a shiver wriggle its way up his spine. “So, give me E.D.I.T.H and he doesn’t have to suffer, your choice Stark.”
No, no, no. He’s Howard. Peter was kidnapped because of him, Peter is going to get hurt because of him. “Please.” The almighty Tony Stark begs, “He’s just a kid.”
“It’s okay Mr. Stark.”
Tony looks back at Peter, his shackles now connected to a chain hanging from the ceiling, his arms over his head. “No, it’s not.”
Tony wished he could say that things went by in a blur after that, but he would be lying. He will remember every second, every scream, every whimper, every hiss, every flinch, every gasp, and every cry of pain. He watched as they used Peter to try and break him. He splinters and cracks, but he does not allow himself to break. Breaking would mean dooming countless innocent lives, he can’t have that on his conscience, he can’t let Peter have that on his conscience. He knows Peter would blame himself, sometimes he sees more of himself in the kid than he’d like to.
Tony looks on helplessly as they beat Peter, drown the boy, and electrocute the kid all while he screams and begs them to stop. Pleads to trade places. He even wishes Peter would use his powers, but logically he knows if the kid is caught worse things can transpire. Although, he can’t think of anything worse than this at the moment. When his voice gives out he just whispers apologies, hoping Peter’s enhanced hearing picks up his hushed words of remorse. It takes a while, but slowly Peter stops reacting. He’s still conscious, although for how long Tony’s not sure, but he’s not reacting the way their captor wants.
“I’m bored, grab Stark.”
Finally, Tony thinks. Just leave the kid alone.
Before the two henchmen get to the cell door a small voice rings out, “Don’t touch him.” It’s weak but sure, unwavering.
“Peter,” Tony warns lowly.
The leader gives a signal to keep going. One of the men is about to unlock the door when there is a piercing scream, “Nooo!!!” There is a loud snap, but Tony can’t see what it is since the goons are in his way. They turn around and immediately rush back to where they were, leaving Tony still trapped in the cell.
He can now see that Peter broke out of his shackles. He is in a defensive stance, his eyes are wide and his fists are shaking. Tony can tell he is running on pure adrenaline and nothing more. The genius wonders just how long he has before he crashes again.
The two men are approaching the kid and when they get close enough Peter charges. He swipes one’s legs out from under him as he dodges a punch from the other. While the one on the floor is busy getting back on his feet Peter focuses on the one in front of him. He ducks under the next punch while simultaneously trusting his right fist into the man’s stomach making him double over. Peter senses danger behind him and does a backflip over the other goon who had made it back up. The man had been aiming a kick that Peter narrowly avoided. While in mid-air he grasps the man’s shoulder, as he was on one foot from trying to kick Peter he easily falls off balance as Peter slams him down to the ground, the guy’s head bounces off the concrete with a resounding bang. Even Peter winces, but the guy doesn’t get up, though he is still breathing, so Peter puts away any guilt he has and focuses back on the task at hand.
He turns back to see the last henchman mid-punch, he’s not fast enough to get out of the way. He staggers back from the force of the hit. He wonders if he’s in over his head, but then he looks over to Tony and his eyes harden. He has to do this. He catches the next punch before it can connect with his already bruised jaw. He twists the arm making the man cry out, he then uses the distraction to sweep his legs out. The goon lands on the ground and groans, Peter punches him in the temple rendering him unconscious.
Sarcastically slow clapping follows the knockout. Their captor gives an impressed whistle as he looks at his fallen comrades. “Well, well well-” Peter doesn’t let him finish whatever cocky thought he was about to spew. His energy was waning and he knows when his energy finally tanks he’s not getting a third wind. He quickly makes his way over to the man and grasps him by the forearms, slamming him into the bars of the cell, his sunglasses going croaked. He, like one of his goons, hits his head by the force. He slides down to the ground leaving a streak of red in his wake, sunglasses hanging off one ear. .
Peter staggers back, his legs shaking. “Peter!” He hears Tony calling. His vision is blurring, yet he stumbles his way toward the voice, but bangs into metal bars and collapses onto the ground. “Shit! Kid can you hear me?!” He tries to respond, but the world is getting dimmer by the second. “Stay awake! Keep your eyes open Bud!” Tony’s voice is getting more and more distant, but Peter can tell he’s in distress and wishes he could help. Everything goes dark before he can even try.
“No, no, no!! Peter! Shit, shit, shit!” Tony was grasping at his hair having no other vice. Peter is hurt, really hurt, he’s not responding anymore and his eyes are closed. He is stuck on the wrong side of the bars and can’t reach his kid. He doesn’t have the key. He can’t do anything to help. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He can’t-
Clink
His oncoming panic attack suddenly stopped at the noise. He looks over to where it came from and he feels like crying. Not out of horror, guilt, and fear, but this time in relief. There was a key ring, with three keys attached next to Peter’s limp hand. It had fallen from his grasp when he passed out. “Oh you beautiful kid! You amazing, stupid, brave, genius!” Tony exclaimed as he reached for the key. The chains weren't long enough, so Tony used his foot. Reaching his leg out as far as he could and slid the key towards himself. He figured out which went to his restraints and unlocked them. He quickly stood up, wobbling since his legs were almost asleep from sitting there. He ignored the discomfort and strode forward and used one of the keys to open the cell door. It was a bit of a struggle to maneuver the key into the lock from his angle, but after a few tries, he got it. He throws the door open and runs over to Peter.
Tony turns the kid on his back so he can see the damage. There are bruises everywhere, his hair is still damp from the waterboarding, another deja vu moment for Tony, there are dark circles under his eyes, he has some leftover burn marks from the electricity, and he is bleeding in a few places. Tony lets out a sob. It was because of you. You are just like Howard. He often ignores the voices in his head, acts more superior than them, but he can’t help but agree now.
Tony checks Peter’s pulse, it’s slow but strong. He takes a deep breath. He quickly, but gently, picks Peter up. The kid does not wake up, but a whine of pain escapes him, “Sorry.” Tony whispers. He opens the door that his captors came through to find a long hallway with many doors. At the end of the white hall is an exit sign. He walks briskly, looking into each room to make sure there is no one else in need of rescue. Luckily there is not. He turns right, the way the red exit arrow was pointing, and finds a door leading to stairs. He takes them up, Peter is not very heavy so Tony has no trouble making it up to the first floor. He follows more signs until he comes to the main entrance. The lobby is completely empty, but there is a reception desk. In a quick moment of deliberation, he places Peter gently in the swivel chair located behind the desk, keeping on hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him upright. Tony looks down and almost immediately finds what he needs, a phone. They took all his and Peter’s electronics before they woke up in the cell. He had no idea where they were stashed, if they weren’t destroyed, and thought it a waste of valuable time to go search. He picks up the receiver and is overjoyed to hear a dial tone.
Tony is ashamed to admit this, especially seeing as his company makes phones, but he knows almost no one's number by heart. FRIDAY remembers all that for him. Pepper begged him to memorize hers, but did he do it? No. He did memorize one number though. It’s a number he and only he has, he dials with one hand, the phone held by his chin and shoulder.
It rings all of one time before he hears, “Tony?”
“Steve.”
“Tony, thank goodness! Where are you? Are you alright?”
“I’m okay, but Peter’s not. I don’t know how long we have until they come to and I don’t have a suit.”
“Where are you?”
Tony looks around for a second before realizing he’s probably not going to find any useful information inside the building. “I don’t know.” He wants to cry with frustration, but he holds it in.
“Is there any way FRIDAY can track you through our connection?”
“Yes!” Tony all but screams, before looking down at Peter. At first, he was worried that he woke the boy, but the absence of reaction frightened the older man more.
“Nat can you-”
“On it!” Tony hears through the speaker.
“Okay, we’re coming to get you. Is there anything we should know about your or Peter’s condition? Any extra medical supplies we need on the jet?”
Tony thought about it, which meant he had to think about what they did to Peter and he squeezed his eyes shut at the memory. All that did though was make the image clearer as it exists and has made a home in his mind. “I’m worried about secondhand drowning for Peter, his breaths are shallow, ragged, and crackly. I know he has a concussion, probably a bad one since he already had a minor one before they beat the living crap out of him.” His words kept speeding up the more he thought about it, and he had to pause and gather himself. “He’s bleeding but I don’t know how bad it is yet. For all I know he could have internal bleeding as well.”
“Okay, Clint, grab Peter’s headphones, sunglasses, and ear plugs.”
“Got it,” Tony heard followed by fading footsteps.
Steve continues, “Bruce, grab a bag of Peter’s blood in case, as well as an extra oxygen tank.”
“Understood!” Bruce responded.
“What about you?”
“I told you, I’m fine. Possible concussion, but it’s minor. ”
“Found it!” Nat yelled in the background.
“We’re coming Tony, just hang on.” Steve said with his Captain's voice.
Tony looked down at Peter’s pale slack face, “Hurry.”
______________
Tony kept one eye on Peter and the other on the way they came. Praying the team will get here before the men wake up. He tries to rouse Peter a few times, but the best gets is a small flutter of the kid’s eyelids before they shut completely once more. It seemed every ounce of energy had drained out of the boy the second his adrenalin crashed. At least Tony hoped that’s all it is.
It wasn’t long before the Team showed up. To Tony, it felt like hours. Time had passed devastatingly slowly, although instead of seconds and minutes it was measured by each raggedy wheeze that escaped Peter. Every hitch in his chest that scared Tony half to death each and every time.
Steve came in first and walked over to them. Nat walked past without even stopping as she asked, “Where are they?”
“Basement. Straight, then left, and it’s the room at the end of the hall.” Tony called out.
“Got it!” Nat responded as she walked, a dagger in her hand.
“You want me to carry him?” Steve asked after he got a good look at Peter.
Tony shook his head, but stopped as it made him slightly dizzy. He refocused and carefully lifted Peter back up, “I got him.” He made sure he was completely steady again before moving.
Steve gave a firm nod and led the way back out and past Clint who was no doubt on his way to the basement. The Quinjet was sitting in the middle of a deserted parking lot. Tony didn’t even look back to see the building and what it was, his full attention on getting Peter help. He walked onto the jet behind Steve who brought them over to the gurney set up in the back. Tony gently laid Peter down. Bruce immediately got to work, Sam doing the same. Tony watched as they worked together to get Peter’s vitals. He saw as they frowned at the readings as well as what they heard when listening through the stethoscope. Bruce started setting up the oxygen as Sam shined a light into Peter’s eyes after manually opening his eyelids one by one. Once Sam backed away Burce fit a mask over Peter’s nose and mouth. Bruce and Sam then together started cleaning all the open wounds and dressing what could be bandaged. Afterwards, Sam started an IV, but for now just attached a bag of saline. It was chaotic yet organized and all at once it was over.
“That’s all we can do for now, Helen has a team ready for when we get back.” Bruised informed him. “He’s stable.”
Tony gave a nod and went over to Peter sitting by his head. He gently carded his fingers through his damp, from sweat, water, or both, hair being mindful of the wound on the back of his head that Sam had already cleaned. Only a moment later Nat and Clint came back inside the Jet. Neither said anything, but Nat gave a nod to Steve who reciprocated the gesture. She casually sat down and started cleaning scarlet off her dagger. Clint went to the cockpit and took off.
Tony sat there next to Peter feeling way too many emotions at once. Thankful the team came. Pride for his genius kid. Annoyed at how self-sacrificial the boy is. Gratefulness that Peter’s alive. Guilt for letting it happen. Fear of being so close to losing his kid. And so many more that are hard to discern from the rest, a tornado of feelings all twisting and turning together.
But really all that matters right now is each rise and fall of Peter’s chest. Each sign that proved Peter was still here. Each moment he has left to make it up to his kid.
His beautiful, amazing, brave, stupid, genius of a kid.