Tony’s heartbeat wasn’t steady.
Ever since Peter had known him, Tony’s heartbeat had been grounding, a steady beat, beat, beat. It got faster in battle, of course. But Peter knew his heartbeat, and it sounded safe. When he heard it, he felt safe. His father was there, and he would take care of him. Even if Peter made mistakes, he would still stay. He would help fix it, and then he would tell Peter to do better, and he was trying, like he always said, to be a better father than his own.
Peter thought he was a good father.
Every heartbeat sounded different, something that Peter had learned when he began to hear them, before he learned to shut it out like he shut out most things, because they were too much.
But his heartbeat was no longer the steady beat it always was. It was slow, now. Slow as he lay there, Infinity Stones in hand.
Beat.
“Hey Pep.” He sai
Beat.
It was overwhelming, because he was no longer shutting it out, and it sounded almost final, but it wasn’t allowed to be. Peter could hear everything, all the breathing, the heartbeats from everyone on the battlefield, and the words that blurred in his mind. It was overwhelming, but he did what he usually did when this happened. He focused on Tony's heart, it's familiar beat, beat, beat.
“You can rest now.” Pepper told Tony, but no, he couldn’t, Peter had just gotten him back. He had lost him, woken up without him on the planet, but it had been ok, because they were going to him, and it was meant to be ok, and Peter couldn’t lose another father.
So no, Tony couldn’t rest.
But Tony’s heart didn’t listen to him, because it was stubborn like Tony.
Beat.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t fair.
Beat.
Peter began to count the slow beats as they faded.
Beat. One.
(The first time he met Tony, just before his first battle. He didn’t know then what he was getting into. Didn’t see that it would lead to this. It was worth it though. For the little bit of time they had).
Two.
(The homework he hadn’t been able to do, so he had called Tony at 1:40 because it was due the next day, and Tony had talked him through it, explaining it so he understood).
Three.
(The earmuffs Tony had gotten him as a present, because maybe they could stop him from being overwhelmed. They were Iron Man themed, and fluffy. Peter would never admit to wearing them).
Four.
(Flying into space with him, the new suit keeping him safe, ignoring orders to go back, because he could fight and Tony might need him).
Five.
(Watching the others fade away, the strange feeling of disappearing, begin so scared as he collapsed into Tony’s arms).
Tony’s heart stuttered, pausing it it’s beat. Peter held his breath. Willed Tony’s heart to keep beating. Willed it with everything he had, which was nothing but hope and held breath, because his powers were useless, and Tony was dying.
Six.
…
…
No.
But Peter couldn’t hear a heartbeat, and he couldn’t hear him breathing, but no, he couldn’t be gone, that wasn’t fair, hadn’t he lost enough? Been through enough?
He kept waiting. Waiting for his heart to start again, because he was Iron Man, he had fought before, and he won, and he couldn’t die, because that wasn’t fair.
It didn’t. It didn’t start again, that final beat still echoing in Peters mind. It would never leave him, that sound. He wanted it back, wanted the unique sound of Tony’s heart to start playing again, to start beating, wanted Tony back so he could hear his voice, his laugh. It did’t seem possible that it could end that quickly. That it was all over, an entire life, gone.
But it didn't start again.
So Peter was left with the number six on a battlefield, memories from five missed years before playing in his mind as everyone knelt in front of the man who had saved them.
It wasn’t fair.
Peter was drowning in the silence, drowning in the noise from everyone else, drowning without his anchor, drowning in the absence of the steady beat and the absence of that lifeline. He was drifting around without it, and he fell to his knees alone with everyone else, but this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t-
It was real.
It was real, this wasn’t an illusion, this was the truth that he liked to ignore, that fighting wasn’t just punching someone and then they fell down, it was falling down yourself, it was hurting, and failing. It was sacrificing.
And now, it was dying.
Because they had won, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Because Tony’s heartbeat was silent and Peter was drowning in that silence, but nothing could ever bring it back, because no mortal could hold all six Infinity Stones and live. Nothing could bring it back, because it was gone forever. Nothing could bring Tony back to them, so Peter stayed on his knees like everyone else, and tried to believe the truth.
Iron Man was dead.
Tony was gone.
And on a silent battlefield full of broken things, Peter was alone.