The Healing
Peter had only been staying with the Starks a week before the first incident.
It had been a normal day; staying in his room most of the day, making small talk when either Mr Stark or Pepper called him down to eat something every hour, trying to keep his mind busy as he lay on his bed. motionless.
It was only until the night that he shattered.
The last few nights Mr Stark had come into his room before he went to bed, saying good night and poorly hiding his concern. The man would sit on the end of his bed, looking as if he was going to say something else before sighing and leaving, throwing Peter one last sad smile.
This night like the rest of them. At 23:00 exactly, Mr Stark knocked on Peter’s door, receiving a non-committed grunt before entering.
“Hey Pete,” The man started, “Me and Pepper are going to bed, we might go to town in the morning. Just came to say good night.” He sat on the end of Peter’s bed- like usual- patting his leg.
Peter nodded, “Alright. Night.”
Mr Stark sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand, “Look, Pete. You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to hide up here the whole time.”
Peter took a second to process what was being said to him. He schooled his face to hide the shock and emotion building up. Over the last week, everything from… that night had built up and up until it seemed to build a wall, blocking any other emotion other than just pain. It hurts to do anything, to even talk. He was used to grief but this was somehow worse. Maybe because May was the last family he had, maybe because he had given up. It just hurt.
Instead of saying anything, Peter just forced a smile, nodding his head again, “I know. Thanks.”
Tony shook his head, almost as if Peter didn’t get it, “Pete, I’m being serious. I care about you, I want to help. I know you’re struggling, don’t try to hide it. Just let me help, kid, please.”
“Mr Stark I-”
“Peter. I just want to help. I-” The man bit his lip and Peter realised he had the same face as he did every night, “I love you kid. Please I-”
Peter felt his heart stop. Those three words loomed in his head, taunting him.
I love you.
Suddenly he wasn’t sitting on his bed, he was thrown back to leaning over May’s body, shoulders shaking with sobs as he watched her breathing slow down. Her eyes found Peter’s tear streaked face, her chest rattling as she fought to get the words out.
I love you.
Peter’s eyes filled with tears as he looked up at Tony. A sob escaped and he threw himself at his mentor, hiding his face in the man's chest, fists clenching his top. He could hear Tony shout in surprise before two arms- one of them metal- wrapped around his torso, squeezing him equally as hard. He let the wall he had built crumble down, all the repressed emotions flooding out in one huge surge, overwhelming him. He cried in sadness, anger, defeat, denial.
All he could think of was seeing May, covered in her own blood, telling him that “With great power, comes great responsibility” The light in her eyes had dimmed as she uttered her last words, her chest slowing until it finally stopped.
I love you.
Three simple words had managed to reduce him into a shaking sobbing mess, hidden away from the world in Tony's arms. He cried until he couldn’t breath, short pants of breath coming out too fast.
“Pete. You have to breathe, okay buddy? Just listen to my breathing okay? Follow my breathing.” Peter tried, listening to Tony breathe, trying to imitate it like he had so many of the man’s actions. His chest rattled, his breath coming out in wheezes, eyes still stinging with tears, some still slipping through his eyelashes every now and then.
It took a few more minutes before Peter calmed down, wiping his face with his sleeve. He refused to make eye contact with Tony trying to focus on his breathing still.
“You okay?” His mentor never took his hand off of Peter’s knee, even when Peter had pulled back from the hug.
Peter nodded, “Yeah I…” He shook his head, “No. I’m really not okay…”
Tony nodded his head sympathetically, “I don’t blame you. What I said before still stands; I’m always here for you. You just have to let me in though, okay?”
Peter nodded, “Yeah.” Then, “I love you was… they were May’s last words.”
Peter had no idea where that confession came from. Maybe it was because Tony had said he would help him, maybe it was because Peter wanted to let him. Saying it aloud, felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders but it still hurt. It felt like saying it out loud had shattered another of the various walls he had built up, letting all his emotions flood through again.
Tony’s eyes widened at the confession. Probably because it was the only thing Peter had said about that night. The man took a deep breath, rubbing small circles into his knee.
They sat in silence before the older man spoke, “And… me saying it reminded you of her?”
They both knew it wasn’t a question.
Peter shrugged, “Well, yeah, it did, but I think… I think I needed to hear it.” He didn’t explain further. He didn’t know how to explain that whilst the words hurt, tearing into the part of his heart that had been blocked in grief and ripping it all out, all the emotion that had been pent up flowing out, he craved that knowledge that somebody cared, that somebody was there to help him through this. How did he explain how it hurt more than ever now but it felt good. How could pain feel so relieving?
But Tony just nodded sympathetically as if he had heard Peter’s thoughts, “I’ll keep that in mind,” The man smiled, “How do you truly feel? Don’t just say fine, I know you’re not.”
Peter huffed a small laugh. Yeah, he couldn’t really lie now, “It hurts. It hurts a lot more now that I'm thinking about it.”
Nodding, Tony smiled sadly, “The first step to getting better is to accept what happened. If you don’t let yourself feel, you can’t let yourself get better. It’s like you're trying to heal a wound that never happened. If you accept it, it will hurt like hell but you can finally treat it.”
Peter nodded with a small grin, “Who knew you were so poetic.”
Tony laughed, half-heartedly ruffling Peter’s hair, “Oh shut it, I can do anything.”
Peter whacked the man’s hand away. It felt nice to mess around, just like old times. But the man was right. Now that he had accepted it, it felt like maybe he could feel better with time. A lot of time, but there was still the possibility. And with Mr Stark sitting with him despite the late hours, Peter knew there were people who would do anything to help him with just that.
—
The second time he broke, it was in the afternoon.
Ever since that heart to heart with Tony, Peter had been more open to interacting with him, Pepper and Morgan. Ever since that night, Peter had started talking more to Pepper and the two of them became close, both enjoying cooking side by side, Pepper teaching him how to make edible food.
In turn, Peter told her some funny stories of May trying to cook. It hurt every time but with each new funny story, he released it helped to talk about her, to keep her memory alive. Still didn’t mean there were some days when Peter wouldn’t even walk into the kitchen to watch Pepper cook because all he saw was May back in their apartment, glasses steamed up from the oven and flour all over her face.
Today was one of those days. He had tried to keep a good mood but it just felt so hard. Every little thing felt too hard to do; get out of bed, brush his teeth, and interact with other people. He would rather be in bed, hidden away from the world rather than downstairs, flicking through various tv channels with a frown.
Logically, he knew Pepper was in the kitchen but he opted to focus on the tv- Brooklyn 99 playing, blocking out the sound- than to even think about cooking with Pepper. He could still remember how it felt to smell the smoke from whatever May had burnt filling the apartment, the two of them going out for a meal, leaving the apartment to air out as they most likely went for some thai.
But with the distraction of tv, Peter tried his hardest to forget all about that. It was in the past.
Ten minutes later it all came crashing down.
The episode he’d been watching was coming to a close and Peter had gotten up to find the remote when he suddenly heard a loud beeping noise. His mind was thrown into a panicked frenzy.
The bomb. The ticking of the time counting down, the panicked shouting, the terrified cries, the startling realisation that there wasn’t enough time. There were still people in the room. The cops. Peter had to think, had to act quickly. On instinct, Peter webbed the two cops towards him, as far away from the comber as he could. That’s when he saw May, too close to the bomb, not enough time to save her, The fear that overwhelmed him.
There was a static in his ears. He could feel a pressure on his arms and a migraine slowly forming- maybe some of the building had collapsed on him? He could deal with that, he’s done it before- and a panic shout was muffled behind the loud ringing in his ears. Suddenly, the pressure on his arms started to shift, almost as if it was moving in circles.
It was at that moment Peter realised his eyes were clenched shut. He went to open them but instantly regretted it as a bright light burned his eyes. His chest hurt. Why did his chest hurt? The shouting was still muffled but the ringing in his ears started to go down, letting him catch bits of the voice.
“-on me. Focus-” His chest still hurts, his throat sore. The pressure on his arms increased but with the more focused he came, the quicker he realised it wasn’t a building at all. He could feel the warmth of skin pressed against his wrists, rubbing soothing circles. The voice came back again, more coherent.
“-with me. You need to breathe.” Pepper? Peter attempted to open his eyes again, realising the light had been turned down a lot since his last attempt. Pepper was kneeling in front of him, both hands on his wrists, eyes filled with concern.
Peter scanned over the room. The tv behind Pepper, the coffee table that had been moved to the side, the softness of the sofa below him, the faint smell of smoke. The beeping, he realised. It must have been the smoke detector.
“Peter.” He looked back to Pepper, “You have to breathe sweetie.”
That was when he realised the pain in his chest was from a lack of oxygen. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, his chest stinging with every short intake he took. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. It felt like all he did recently was try to breathe. Every day he was on the verge of a panic attack or a breakdown. He was sick of it.
“Sorry. I- I’m sorry.” Peter rambled, his breathing slowing down.
Pepper shook her head, eyes full of confusion, “It’s okay, hun. Why are you sorry?” She continued to hold onto Peter's wrists but with a lot less pressure.
Peter shook his head. He was sorry for constantly crying, constantly making everyone else tread around him carefully, constantly worrying Mr Stark and Pepper. He was sorry for making them deal with his bullshit, suddenly intruding on their lives and making them deal with him on top of their own daughter.
“I keep doing this, I keep crying and breaking down and making you and Mr Stark deal with it. I’m sorry, I can deal with it myself, I’m sorry.” Peter continued to ramble, tears still being held back by his eyelashes.
Pepper processed what he said for a second before shaking her head, “No- no, Peter, sweetie. We wouldn’t have let you stay if we didn’t want to help you. Me and Tony both know how grief can feel, how ugly it can be, we were both ready to help you as soon as we got that call.” Peter wiped his tears with his sleeve, in shock at Pepper's words, “We think of you as our son as much as we think of Morgan as our daughter. We love you Pete, we want to be there for you. You’re family.”
Peter smiled, albeit a bit wobbly, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Pepper. The woman instantly copied, her hand running through Peter’s hair softly, her other hand rubbing his back, “We love you, okay? We love you.”
Tears formed in his eyes once again but for once it wasn’t out of sadness, but of happiness. He may have lost May but he still had a family, and they were in front of him the whole time. Best of all, they loved him no matter what.
That was all Peter needed.
—
The last time it happened it was morning.
Peter had been doing better at opening up. On the bad days, he would try to talk to Mr Stark or Pepper about how he felt, about the guilt he felt at not saving May in time, about the crushing pain of realising he was about to watch his aunt die in front of him, the same way he had to with Ben.
Even now, two months later, Peter had his dodgy days; the days he felt like something inside him had shifted, that nothing quite aligned, when the grief turned to a burning anger. But now, he had Tony and Pepper. And that was enough.
Today wasn’t one of those days. In his two months at the lake house, Peter had all the time in the world to bond with Mr Stark’s daughter, Morgan. It had shocked Peter just how obvious it was that she was Mr Stark and Pepper’s daughter. She was witty but chose her words carefully, outgoing but not careless. It was one of the reasons Peter loved her like a sister nearly instantly.
That and the fact that apparently Morgan knew nearly everything about him, due to Mr Stark. In the time Peter had been blipped, his mentor had told his daughter all about the brave Spider-Man who had saved the world, and the caring Peter Parker who had wormed his way into Tony’s heart.
In one of Peter and Morgan’s first interactions, he nearly had a heart-attack when the young girl had given him the nickname ‘Spidey’. Apparently his face of shock and confusion was priceless, if Mr Stark laughing for five minutes straight after watching the scene unfold was anything to go off of.
But over the two months, Peter took his role as Morgan’s big brother very seriously; playing with her when she asked, watching disney movies on repeat until he could recite them word for word, telling her stories of his adventures as Spider-Man (the ones that were okay for her to hear anyways).
Right now was a great example of their bond, Peter chasing Morgan around the front of the lake house, slowing himself down to let Morgan stay ahead, letting her believe she was winning. She let out little shrieks of joy as Peter continued to chase her around.
He had forgotten why he was even chasing her in the first place, whether they were playing tag or just decided to let out some energy. Yet, as Morgan let out another exhilarated squeal, he decided he didn’t care. He would let himself act like a child for a few more minutes if it meant seeing Morgan smile and laugh the way she was.
Her cheeks were puffed up and stained red, baby teeth shining in the sun. Her eyes were like stars, glowing with that glimmer only a child possessed, the mark of their youth. Peter was sure his face wasn’t that different, a wide smile and slightly less rosy cheeks due to being a bit fitter.
But eventually something had to go wrong, as it usually did for Peter.
As the two had previously raced through the living room, Peter barely heard Mr Stark shouting over their laughter, “Careful! One of you is gonna trip.” Maybe Peter should have taken that into consideration but he had been too preoccupied with making sure Morgan was in his sight that he had brushed it off without a second thought.
One second Morgan was running in front of him and the next she was going down, her little shrieks turning from ones of joy to ones of shock. Peter froze instantly, time seeming to stop. Worry flooded his veins as he raced over to Morgan.
The girl was lying on the floor, hands clutching her side as her eyes welled up with tears.
Peter froze in shock.
He finally found May, leaning against a large piece of debris. Relief flooded the fear away, his chest finally fully expanding, letting in much needed air.
“May…”
Peter rushed next to his aunt, a little gasp of air leaving his lips as he finally relaxed now that they were together.
But May wasn’t smiling.
Instead, her face was scrunched up in pain, her cheeks stained in small tears that she was trying to hide. Peter felt worry flood back into his system, feeling slightly nauseous. May was clutching her side, and her hands were red.
Why were her hands red? They shouldn’t be, she didn’t even have medical gloves on. Why was there blood?
Peter whispered her name again, gently picking up her hands and peeling them away from her side despite her weak attempts of stopping him.
The sight nearly made him throw up.
Her side was a mess. A chunk of her flesh was missing, a piece of debris buried deep in the gaping hole. Blood coated the surface, disrupting Peter from seeing the worst of it. By the look on May’s face, it hurt. A lot.
The tears, the badly hidden pain, the hands trying to stop the blood pouring out.
Morgan was still lying on the floor, face covered in tears and screwed up in obvious pain, hands clutching her side.
Peter barely had time to turn away before he threw up, chest heaving for air. He could hear Morgan shouting for Mr Stark but the static in his ears and the memory of May- alone and bleeding, why was nobody coming to help?- made him throw up again.
He could hear footsteps rapidly approaching, followed by a quiet swear and more shouting and more footsteps. A hand landed on his back, jolting him from the haunted memories plaguing his mind and back to the present. The hand rubbed small circles into his back. He knew somebody was talking to him, somebody else talking behind him but the static in his ears was still there, clouding his mind.
Peter kept trying to suck in air, chest faltering as he heaved again but nothing came out. He sat there, shaking despite the warm weather, sweat forming on his forehead. A hand pushed his hair back, their skin cool against his.
The static in his ears began to subside as Peter leaned back, moving off his hands and knees and sitting on the grass, scrunching up his nose as the smell of vomit wafted through the air. His chest rattled as he finally got his breath back.
Before he knew what was happening, a bottle of water was shoved into his hands, the hand on his back still there, offering unwavering support. Peter gulped the water down, grateful to have something to get rid of the bitter aftertaste.
The person beside him tilted the bottle down, “Careful. You’ll be sick again if you drink it that fast.”
Tony. Peter looked beside him, watching as his mentor looked at him with concern, giving him a hesitant smile as he realised Peter was looking, “You better now?”
Peter just nodded, taking slower sips of water. Once he finished the bottle he looked down at his hands, licking his lips before speaking, “Is… is Morgan okay?”
Tony nodded, gaze soft, “Yeah, she’s okay. Little kids tend to overreact when they're hurt, it was just a scratch.”
Peter huffed a laugh, “Yeah. She’s a tough kid, she’ll be okay.”
Mr Stark ruffled his hair, nodding, “That’s- yeah, that’s right.”
They sat in silence for a beat. The sounds of wind rustling through the trees provided a background noise, birds the only witnesses to the mess that Peter Parker had turned into. The blades of grass swayed silently, back and forth in a constant rhythm.
Then, “So, what happened?”
Peter turned to his mentor with a frown. He knew the man would ask about what set him off but that didn't mean Peter wanted to explain. He didn’t want to tell the older man about the gaping hole in May’s side, the chunk of rock wedged in, covered in blood.
Of course he saw worse on his patrols, but it was May. There's seeing somebody injured, then there's seeing somebody you love injured. It was almost as if you shared their pain, both of you struggling to understand what’s going on through two very different types of pain but you were both in pain nonetheless.
Peter opened his mouth but nothing came out, leaving him floundering like a fish. Taking a deep breath, he let himself try to explain, “I- you know I was with her- May- when she was…injured.”
Tony just nodded, resting his hand on Peter’s knee, a small reminder that he was there, that he was there for Peter.
“I- she was hurt, Mr Stark. Badly. Her side it- there was a chunk missing. Her side was just gone. Instead there was just debris- rock- something in there but it was covered in blood. There was so much blood but she was just clutching her side.” Peter recounted, tears fresh in his eyes as he relived the horrors of that tragedy of a night.
His mentor just nodded, eyes wide with slight horror but he never interrupted Peter, hand never leaving his knee as he let the boy stumble over his words, all of them rushing out faster than his mouth could keep up with, leaving him stuttering.
“Then she wouldn’t let me see it but she was too weak and I took her hands away, covering the wound myself. I called for an ambulance, I did, but they never came and… it was too late. She died right in front of me, and I- I couldn’t save her.”
Peter let the tears drip down his face, sobs wracking his frame as Tony embraced him. He fell into the man's chest, tears instantly soaking his mentor's top but he never let go, just sat still with one hand in Peter’s hair and the other on his back, whispering reassurances.
“It’s alright. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, okay? You have me.” Tony tucked a loose curl behind Peter’s ear, hand rubbing his back as the boy sobbed uncontrollably. The two of them went back and forth, Peter sobbing and Tony reassuring him, for what felt like hours.
Eventually, Peter stopped sobbing, Tony never showing any signs of letting go until Peter leaned back. Peter rubbed at his eyes, sniffling. Tony kept his hand on Peter’s knee, rubbing small circles like he always did, his own little way of telling Peter he was with him, that he would never leave his side.
Peter always had Mr Stark, Pepper, and Morgan. And damn was he lucky to have them.
—
It had been a month without any major breakdowns.
Peter was sitting on the little chair swing on the porch of the lake house, rocking back and forth slowly, the swing creaking as he did. The wind brushed against his face, no doubt leaving his cheeks rosy. The clouds danced through the blue sky, nothing being able to stop them from getting where they needed.
Peter had always loved the sky. Had loved the way the clouds sped up through the sky as if they had somewhere to be, never stopping, always moving. The way the sun always beams down, casting rainbows through glass, always warming Peter’s skin.
At night, the stars sparkled against the darkness, all of them making themselves known, as if they all had a story. The tranquillity of the darkness of night, the shine of the moon standing out from everything else.
Now that he was living at the lake house, Peter had all the time he wanted to admire the sky, no light pollution to hide the stars, no skyscrapers to hide the clouds. Just him and the openness of the surrounding woodland.
Peter’s thoughts were disrupted by the click of the door opening, the quiet padding of footsteps trailing over to him. The swing creaked as extra weight was added, reminding Peter that he should probably oil it.
Tony sat beside Peter, not saying anything, just admiring the view. His eyes followed the same clouds as Peter had been, the sun beaming down on the two of them as if they were under a spotlight. The wind still rustled the leaves of the trees and bushes around them, the tweeting of birds and sound of grasshoppers filling the air like some kind of song only they knew the words to.
“Nice view isn’t it?”
Peter looked over to the older man, but he was still looking out at the sky.
“You know, I never thought I would move out of the city, too focused on Stark International or worrying over facing another alien attack to even think about moving someplace like this.” The man smiled softly, looking as if he was lost in memories.
That didn’t shock Peter. He was shocked when he went to visit Tony once he was stable after reversing the snap only to be told he no longer lived at the tower but instead a small cabin hidden in the woods.
Peter lifted an eyebrow, “Why did you then?”
Tony turned to look at him, smile faltering before sighing, “When Pepper found out she was pregnant, we didn’t want to raise our baby in the city. We would just get pestered by paparazzi and the world was still dealing with the snap.” Tony’s gaze turned soft as he looked at Peter, his smile returning, “So we moved here.”
Peter nodded. He could see why. It was the perfect place to raise a child; quiet, spacious and just an overall beautiful place. It reminded him of camping with May and Ben when he was younger. May had always loved nature, but was never any good at keeping flowers alive any longer than a couple weeks.
“May would’ve liked it here.” Peter turned to Tony, a sad smile on his lips, “She always loved nature.”
The man just nodded slowly, eyes softening, “Yeah, she would. You still think about her?”
“Everyday.”
Not a day went by where Peter didn’t miss his aunt. It didn’t hurt anymore, his heart no longer stuck in that clamp, freed from its clutches by the love and support he had been surrounded in ever since moving out to the lake house.
“But you’re okay now?” Tony asked, worry clouding his face, his smile dropping.
Peter shook his head but kept smiling, “I don’t think anyone ever fully is, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Peter sighed, “I know she loves me and wants me to keep living on for her.”
With great power comes great responsibility.
May knew he had a gift, she knew he could do great things and she knew he would. Now it’s up to Peter to prove her right, to carry on her memory and live on for her.
“She knows I have the potential to make a difference in this world and I will, for May.”
Tony smiled, arm hooking around Peter closer, tucked into the man's side. He lay his head on top of Peter’s curls, taking a deep breath.
“For May.” Then, “I love you, kid.”
Peter smiled, leaning further into Tony.
“I love you too, Tony.”
He’d be alright. Eventually.