the victory
They all took a knee for the fallen hero.
They all took a knee for the fallen hero.
They all took a knee for the kid.
They all took a knee for a kid.
He was just a kid.
He was just a kid.
He was just-
“Tony?”
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine,” a broken Tony Stark mumbled, running a trembling hand down his prickly face and resting his forehead on the frosted window of his private jet. He hadn’t felt like shaving since the conflict with Thanos, but again, he hasn’t felt much of anything: all emotion was drained on the battlefield. His hands haven’t stopped shaking, though. They haven’t seemed to shake off the feeling of guilt, of dread, of the lifeless chill he felt that day.
Tony was, well, in severe shock. He hadn’t left his house in a month, not since the funeral. Pepper decided to take Morgan to her parent’s home to give Tony plenty of space to grieve. She tried her best to explain her father’s absence, but with Morgan being her ever-inquizzitive self, she had to illustrate a more simplified version for her to understand.
He could care less if Morgan knew. He was too tired to make up excuses, anyway, as horrid nightmares plagued his restless sleep. Jokes and sarcasm became something of history; Tony couldn’t bear to even smile without an explosion of guilt and darkness. Rhodey came by daily. He’d try to coax Tony to eat, but he’d visit mostly because he was Tony’s best friend and couldn’t fathom seeing his best friend grieve alone. Tony didn’t talk much; he was just glad to have company.
“Are you sure? You haven’t left the house in ages, and you know how the media will react tonight,” Happy replied, sipping what was undoubtedly an iced glass of diet Coke.
Tony did know how the media would react. They would ask questions, they would be nosey, but they would mourn along with him. The media lost their favorite topic to write about; the headlines said as much. As hard as he pushed it to the back of his mind, it nagged him all the same.
“Yeah, I’m good, I think,” Tony sighed, closing his sagging eyes.
“How much longer until DC, FRIDAY?” Happy questioned to the ever-present AI.
“Twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” FRIDAY replied. A pang of anxiety burst in Tony’s chest. It was the first real emotion he’d felt in the past few weeks. He attempted not to think about the endeavor ahead of them, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to forget why he was on that damn jet. It wouldn’t change a thing.
Some occurrences in life are simply…
…inevitable.
~~~
Shakily, Tony clambered out of his black Audi, head down and lips sealed. If they weren’t, he knew he’d break down in tears without hesitation.
Bright spurts of light exploded from all directions, but they seemed farther away than the normal paparazzi photography. Between the blinding bursts of white, he could see a path formed in front of him. The media stood behind a barrier- a rope of some sort- to give Tony an unblocked entrance to his destination.
He noticed the Washington Monument to his left, bringing a pang of guilt and sadness; he’d forgotten about the heroic event that occured inside that historical tower. It made Tony want to crumble to the floor and tear his hair out. The cherry blossoms were in bloom. Their warm pink beauty painted the park like the spread of sweet icing across a freshly baked cake. A small, unsure smile danced to Tony’s blank face. If a beauty such as this can bloom in the darkness of the world, why can’t he?
Rhodey approached him on his journey toward the west of the Washington Monument.
“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey uttered with a slight smile. It relieved a small amount of anxiety that seemed to build heavier in Tony’s chest with every step.
“Hey,” Tony sighed as his trembling hands dropped to his pockets. He could feel his heart skip; in a few moments, he would transform the United States forever. “Are you ready?” Rhodey questioned softly.
“No, but I don’t really have any other choice,” He replied without any energy to muster a sarcastic response; truly, he wasn’t ready, and didn’t think he’d ever be.
His gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding all eye contact with the hundreds and thousands of visitors collected around both the National Mall and the Reflecting Pool. Some were shouting, others softly crying, others tossing kind words around as a small comfort. Many lifted signs into the air, some reading “Spiderman lives on!” and “Spidey, forever!” and “Peter is our hero!” Each one ripped out Tony’s heart a bit more than the last, breath hitching with every warmly written memento.
Every step neared him to an event that would not only change Tony, but change the world as a whole. The morning DC sun warmed his sunken face; his shoulders hunched with the heavy burden of a father’s grief. He sauntered heavily, uncertainly, across the chilled gravel, attentive to every step. He felt as if he were dreaming. He wanted to wake up from this horrid nightmare into a honey-crystaled world of sweet, pure joy- a world where he didn’t lose the best part of his life for a second time.
He hoped no one would notice his trembling hands as the shaking grew worse and worse. They shook with fury, with a fiery passion, with the haunting realization that nothing he could do would fix his broken heart.
“We’re here,” Rhodey said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder lightly. Tony blinked back to reality. He stood in front of a raised platform with a podium on top. The platform, guarded with security, was surrounded by a quiet and uncertain crowd. He dragged in a warm, ragged breath before clamoring up those dreadful stairs to the pedestal. He didn’t have to look behind him to know the beauty which stood triumphant and sweet.
Tony grasped each side of the pedestal with white knuckles, hands trembling and chin quivering. He looked down to the crowd below, reading each one of their faces. Almost everyone was crying, but he had no sympathy for them.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a broken cry. Tears flooded his dark-circled eyes as he hung his head in desperation. A terrible, erupting explosion of sorrow sunk into his body, hunching his back worse than before. His heart burst. He could feel it. He could feel a piece of himself lost- dead- and there was nothing he could do but close his eyes and take a deep breath.
“I-I’d like to thank… everyone who… who c-came here today… to set in stone the m-memory of Peter Parker,” Tony mumbled into the microphone, trembling voice barely above a whisper, earning a thundering cheer from the expansive crowd.
“Peter… or ‘Pete’ as I’ve lovingly nick-named him… wasn’t just Spider-Man. He… he was so kind and so brave, and so selfless, damn it. He tried to save everybody, even when that meant… he couldn’t save himself,” he continued. Hot, furious tears poured down his face, contorted with agony.
“Pete, he… he loved life and everything in it. He loved his-his friends and his aunt… he even loved school, and he was damn good at it,” Tony spoke with a watery chuckle. The words seemed to flow easily from him now, even while barely staying coherent.
“I… I loved him like a son, I truly did. He was my kid, my first… my first baby… and no father should have to live with the grief of their own child,” he continued, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from erupting in a fit of tears.
“So… in honor of Peter Parker, a boy who always put other people before himself, we have assembled a memorial, here in the National Mall, for all to see and remember the wonderful kid who should live in all of us,” Tony finished with a nod, retreating from his brief reminiscence and back to the cold shell of darkness.
A thunderclap of applause and cheering exploded across the park. He let his head hang, tears dampening the blue platform he stood on. Dragging in a shaky breath, Tony dropped his trembling hands back into his pockets and stepped back from the podium.
“Good job, Tones. You did it,” Rhodey chimed from behind him. Tony couldn’t help but to spin around and wrap his arms around his best friend in a tight embrace. Although he was taken aback by the sudden contact, Rhodey hugged him back. Tony sobbed violently into his shoulder, his entire body trembling.
“I’m so sorry man, so sorry,” he whispered. He knew Tony better than anyone- enough to know that his heart was completely shattered by the loss of his pseudo-son, but a hug could only heal temporarily. His heart would be bruised forever.
Tony pulled away as his shaking hands wiped his face, inhaling a massive gulp of air.
“Sorry about that,” he whispered. He genuinely needed that hug to keep from collapsing or throwing up.
“You don’t need to apologize, Tony,” Rhodey replied with a small smile. Tony nodded and turned to face the crowd. He couldn’t see one person out there who wasn’t crying.
~~~
Tony visited Peter’s memorial after sunset. Thousands came to visit and pay respects that day, which is why he waited until night- to avoid the crowd, to be by himself.
They had the park cleared of people after midnight, so it was just Tony and his thoughts. He dragged himself out of his Audi and into the crisp, mellow night. Happy said something to him as he left, but he honestly didn’t care.
He just wanted to visit his boy.
The cool breeze fluttered through the pink cherry blossoms, a beauty beholden to only Tony that night. Warm orange light lined the sidewalk, guiding him down the park along with the gentle glow from the moon. The Washington Monument towered proudly above the trees, protecting its land and the sorrowful ashes of memory from under which it stands. His only thoughts were of Peter.
In every single way besides biologically, Peter was Tony’s son. He cared for him like a son. He protected him like a son. He loved him like a son, like his own kid. Even if Morgan was his only biological child, Peter was his first. He never loved Peter any less than Morgan; however, he wasn’t there to love anymore. He wasn’t there to care for anymore. Peter wasn’t there.
Every quivering breath was met with another silent tear, darting down his unshaven and blank face. His hands, although trembling, seemed a bit quieter than earlier.
He raised his heavy head to the memorial, and nearly toppled over with the emotional trainwreck it tossed him in.
Smooth bronze glistened with both the moon and the spotlight with its delicate curves and sharp edges. Peter Parker, seated on the pedestal, held the mask of his Spider-Man in his hands. His strong legs dangled from the platform he sat on. Every divit and detail on his suit glimmered in the warm rays, carved with the attentive hand of a sculptor. His head was tilted slightly to the side, as if he was calculating something in his head. Tony’s favorite part of it, though, was the bright smile adorning his young face as his brown curls, though frozen in time, danced around in the invisible wind.
Tony would give anything to ruffle his hand through those unruly curls one last time.
“Hey, Pete,” he whispered, sitting down in criss-cross in front of Peter. Of course, he didn’t respond, but Tony could imagine his response.
Hey, Mister Stark. Why do you look so upset?
Tony shook his head, tears leaking from the corners of his tired eyes.
“Hey, kiddo. I-I’m not upset, just missing your Spider-ass,” he smiled, looking back up at Peter. He imagined his laugh; Peter always loved the stupid names Tony would dub people at random times.
That’s a name I haven’t heard yet. I could call you Iron-ass.
Tony chuckled at the thought.
Sorry, sir, I didn’t actually mean to call you that-
“It’s okay, Pete. You can’t actually hurt me even if you tried,” he interrupted, imagining Peter’s frantic apologies with a smile.
But I did, Mister Stark, I-I hurt you and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to end like this. I tried to fight, I really tried, but I just couldn’t. I’m sorry, sir.
Tony sighed, allowing his body to shrink into its tense cocoon of darkness again. He felt a fiery rage billow up within him- a bomb ready to explode.
“Well look at what you’ve done, Pete. You’ve left me and your friends and your future behind because of what? Because you had to prove yourself? You had nothing to prove, kid. You’d already done more than I could’ve ever accomplished. You’ve already made me proud just by being…” your father, he wanted to finish, but it was too much. Tony already pulled himself into a tight, quivering ball of grief. He cried harder than he ever had before.
“Roos, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry,” he sobbed, praying just for one more minute, one second with his boy. Just a moment to ruffle his brown curls again. Just a moment to give him a hug- a real, genuine hug, without the chaos of an ongoing battlefield or the inevitability of one’s death.
This time, there was no response. Tony couldn’t think coherently- all he could do was cry.
“It should’ve been me, kid. It should’ve been me. I love you so much, Pete. You don’t understand…” he whispered, but his words trailed off onto deaf ears.
A heavy, searing weight laid tight in his chest- a mixture of grief, nostalgia, and guilt. No matter how many sporadic breaths he inhaled, the feeling never left. In a feeble attempt to get rid of it, he mouthed apologies over and over, each whisper growing louder and louder until he was screaming his throat raw. It didn’t help. The feeling was still there, and it would be for a long time.
Finally, Tony took a long, ragged deep breath, and lifted his head. Peter hadn’t moved- of course he hadn’t- but something was off. He felt different, as if the world was tilted on its opposite axis. The weight didn’t feel so heavy, the memories didn’t feel as painful. He could feel a sense of calm enter his lungs; a peaceful, melancholic sort of calm. A final tear slid down his face. He let it drip off his chin and moisten the gravel he sat upon.
Slowly, Tony crawled back onto his feet to gaze at Peter one last time. He read the lines below the bronze memorial, being sure to engrave them permanently in his mind.
Peter Benjamin Parker
‘Spider-Man’
A boy who sacrificed himself for strangers and friends alike
A small smile crept to Tony’s face, matching the wide beam which brightened Peter’s. He knew he’d sleep soundly for once knowing his son’s legacy would never be forgotten as long as the earth kept turning. After one last gaze at the memorial, Tony decided to head back.
His hands didn’t tremble anymore; they hung still at his side as he turned around for the endeavor back to his car.
Tony froze. Something rustled the far-away cherry blossoms across the park. A strange gut feeling settled in his stomach, like he was being watched- but he didn’t feel unsafe.
“Hello?” He called out, hoping for a reply, but nothing. He could’ve easily brushed this off as an innocent visitor strolling the park at night or even a sudden gust of wind, but it felt different.
He crept slowly toward the noise, unsure of whether he should run or call out again, but before he could make a decision, a figure emerged from the darkness. Tony’s heart skipped a beat, but the panic didn’t last long. He could see a familiarly warm smile grow on the figure’s lips, brown hair dancing freely in the breeze. Tony recognized those unruly curls.
“P-Pete?” He shouted, tense with shock. He tried to move, but his feet seemed to be glued to the gravel.
As quickly as the figure appeared, it vanished with a gust of wind and the rustle of those sweet pink blossoms.
He could move now, but he decided not to approach the area from which the figure emerged from. He knew what he saw, and he saw his kid.
“I’ll come back, Roos. I’ll come back soon,” Tony whispered under his breath. He turned towards the path back to his car and dragged his heavy heart with him
See you later, Mister Stark.