You and Me and the Devil Makes Three
'Why does everyone say, 'I'm sorry for your loss.' It's not like she's a sock that's been misplaced, you know. It's my heart. It's my fucking heart. It's Morgan's mom. It's not a loss, it's a devastation. It's an atom bomb, Jim. And I can't find her again. I'm never going to get her back. She's gone. Forever.'
'I know. God, I know, Tones.'
'What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to be who my daughter needs me to be? I can't focus. I can't eat. I can't sleep.'
'...Have you thought about maybe stopping your search for Spider-Man?'
'What?'
'You go out every day. You even have Natasha looking. You haven't been back to the cabin in a week. Morgan asked me if you're going to ever eat dinner with us again. I know you're hurting, man. I know you want to thank him. Have you considered, maybe, that he's gone, too?'
'What are you saying?'
'Tony. He disappeared. You said he was hurt.'
'What are you saying?'
'Tones.'
'Damn it, Rhodey. What are you saying?'
'I'm saying it's time to come home.'
"That's on you."
Tony pretended not to hear the breath Benjamin sucked in as he walked out of the room. Rhodey had a steady hand on his shoulder and he could feel Happy next to him, practically apoplectic with rage. Tony had been on the receiving end of Harold Hogan's punches only three times—an experience he was not eager to repeat. He found himself conflicted, torn between wanting to beat up Benjamin as well or hug him senseless. This instinct to protect his children (child, child, he only had one) was the only thing occupying his brain, and he seemed to be lacking the capacity to think critically at all.
He knew he was missing a lot of things, which was very unlike him. He just wasn't sure how to untangle everything with the threat of death hanging so imminently over his daughter's head. His brothers in everything but blood were a bullet away from being taken from him, and never before—not even in Afghanistan, not even in space—did he feel the weight of mortality like he did in the presence of Norman fucking Osborn.
So, yeah, the mystery about Spider-Man could wait.
The anger that was brewing around the fact that this kid (an actual kid—was he really just 15 when they met?) hid from him for upwards of a year, the confusion around why he would even steal from Osborn in the first place, the interest in why he would go to college just to figure out the cure for terminal illnesses while drinking himself into a stupor, the weird disappointment mixed with concern he felt when he even thought about Benjamin drinking himself into a stupor, all of it—could wait.
Figuring out why Osborn mentioned having a counterpart from another universe, why that counterpart warned him about Spider-Man, why Spider-Man kept having so many panic attacks—could wait.
Because his baby was by herself, trying to get a cherry Slurpee from an unhinged, potentially delusional, man just because "Fitz" told her to.
Maybe Hogan had a point.
“You need to eat something.” Rhodey seemed almost apologetic for interrupting Tony’s thoughts. The three of them were radiating worry and tension as they stepped into the dining room. There was an actual buffet sitting out, and for a second, Tony wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Trust Norman Osborn to flaunt his wealth and sophistication alongside his homicidal tendencies. Tony didn’t remember the man being quite so murderous in the past, but then again, since the Blip, Tony hadn’t heard much from him. A few rumors about illegal experiments. Tony knew there were some past Shield files on him and he was under several governmental investigations (the perks of having an AI always scanning for pertinent information important for future success of Stark Industries), but for the guy to go so rogue, so quickly, was reminiscent of a man with nothing to lose. And a man with nothing to lose was dangerous.
But sloppy. And Tony could work with sloppy. As long as his daughter was safe. And he’d only know that once she was back in his arms and not on some sugar-seeking joyride with Norman’s goons (Benjamin’s words, not his).
Norman walked through the door and sat down at the table. He was working on a tablet (a StarkPad, the absolute audacity of this man) and drinking a scotch, completely ignoring the audience he had. Or mostly ignoring. His smug, punchable face sported a ghost of a smile that Tony knew was for him.
“Tony, your little girl is adorable. How…lucky you are.” He spoke silkily, inserting power and insinuation into every syllable. Rhodey stepped in front of Tony, and he could feel Happy’s hand squeeze his wrist. Tony narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Norman’s phone rang.
“Osborn…what? Well, stop them, idiot. What do you mean you let her out? The fucking Avengers?” Norman’s eyes flashed as he jumped up from the table. He grabbed the gun in his suit jacket and waved it in front of Tony’s face. Tony could see flecks of spit as he hissed at him. “Which. One. Of. You. Called. The. Fucking. Black. Widow? Which one of you absolutely, reckless, moronic cowards disobeyed the one rule I gave you?” He cocked the gun and shoved it into Rhodey’s chest.
“Wait, Norman. Calm down. We can work this out.” Tony held up his hands placatingly (were they shaking, that was weird) and stood impossibly still. At first glance, Rhodey looked almost bored, but Tony could see a small bead of sweat on his forehead.
One of Norman’s guards rushed in, and as he turned to see what was going on, Tony pulled Rhodey behind him quickly.
“Sir, we’ve got a problem.” He waved his walkie-talkie as several men could be heard running in the halls.
“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”
“Our cameras caught sight of one of our cars driving up the road, but the drivers are not ours. They won’t respond to their radio. Also, there’s an Air Force helicopter coming in eastwardly and should be here in about 10 minutes.” Nervously, he faltered before taking a gulp and continuing on. “Also, Spider-Man is missing.”
“FUCK. Are you all incompetent? I told you he was shifty. Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know sir.”
“Go find him, you idiot.”
“But sir, there’s something else. Im…Important, I mean.” The guy was sweating and shifting back and forth on his feet. Norman’s eye looked like it would pop out of its socket. Tony thought it made him look like a goblin. He wondered if he should tell him that. “He set the lab on fire.”
“What?” Norman whispered. Tony was surprised that between the shouts in the hall and the faint fire alarm newly blaring downstairs that he could even hear him. Norman took on a dangerous tone. Tony felt Happy shift behind him, getting in position to grab the gun that now hung limply from Osborn’s hand. Rhodey stepped back, but Tony stayed standing in Norman’s line of sight, hoping to not draw too much attention to his friends.
“He what?” Norman let out an inhuman growl. “PUT. IT. OUT. The device is in there. That’s months of research down the drain. He was the only one with those plans. Don’t let them burn. That stupid freak.” He raised his gun again and shot the man in the head. As his body slumped to the ground, Norman gestured at two more men (they multiplied like cockroaches) and pointed his gun at Tony. In the middle of everything, Happy had escaped. Tony could hear him shouting outside and several footsteps running past. Rhodey was standing next to him, cool as a cucumber. Tony thought of three more nicknames that would definitely get used once they got out of their predicament. Tony also thought he was possibly dissociating. And briefly wondered if he should get an MRI for the continued shaking in his hands.
“Go. Find. Him. Not you. You. You stay here. We’re leaving. C’mon Stark. Colonel. Follow me if you will.”
Before they could take a step, Tony heard a voice above them. “Hey guys! Where’re ya going, Norm? It’s rude not to bring all your guests.” Benjamin jumped down lazily, hands in his pockets. He looked at Tony briefly, seeming to catalogue any injury he might have. It felt almost protective and entirely out of character. Tony’s brain was screaming at Ben to run, but instead he shrugged. “I’m not in charge of this party, unfortunately.” Ben quirked his lips. “Shame.”
“So help me, boy, I will blow out their brains right now if you don’t cooperate. Listen up.”
“Oh.” Benjamin examined his nails, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Will you? That’s nice. Here’s the way I see it: you kill them, I simply kill you.” He deftly grabbed the gun from the guy next to Rhodey and twisted it like a pretzel. Tony felt like he was watching a movie—he wasn’t aware of his body. He was just floating. He was watching a stupidly brave kid do a stupidly brave thing and all he could do was watch. “I’ll crush this,” Benjamin held up a flash drive, “destroy these,” and the JACCASS blueprints, “and go on my merry way.” He put his finger on his mouth and mimed a thinking position. “I hear Cancun is a nice place to settle this time of year. Especially with the money of a recently departed millionaire. Don’t worry. I can spread your ashes.” He smiled and stepped closer to Osborn.
Norman chuckled. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s your whole MO.”
“I’m a spider, Osborn. I eat flies for breakfast. You don’t believe me?” Benjamin plucked a lighter from his pocket and held it up to the flash drive. “I wonder how quickly plastic burns. Dr. Stark may know.” Norman’s eyes widened desperately. “Tick tock. You’re running out of time, Norman. In fact, I hear the helicopters now. I’m sure Col. Rhodes is due to give a briefing at the base at any moment. What do you say?”
It happened quickly.
Tony would think about how quickly later. If Friday were still online, she’d be able to tell him with the accuracy only a computer built by him could do, but instead he had to rely on memory. 1 second. Maybe 2. At the most 3.
The doors flew open right as Norman smiled at Tony. He pointed his gun at Tony’s head with one hand and pulled something round out of his pocket with his other.
He threw it towards the door and smoke filled the room. The gun went off. Tony’s ears rang as he was shoved into Rhodey.
When the smoke cleared, Norman was gone.
When the smoke cleared, Benjamin was on the ground.
Did Stark hands always shake? Maybe he should see if Howard wrote notes on it or something.
When the smoke cleared, Benjamin was on the ground.
It didn’t make sense. He was an engineer and mechanic. He always had steady hands. Maybe it was low blood sugar.
When the smoke cleared, Benjamin was on the ground. Tony was next to him. Blood was pouring from the kid’s temple, the bullet barely visible. Tony was next to him. He thought people were shouting. He wished they’d be quiet—Benji looked tired. His eyes were fluttering and he was coughing. Maybe there was water somewhere.
Tony looked around helplessly. Maybe a bandage.
Why were people yelling?
Ben’s head was bleeding. That’s not good, right? Tony felt himself gag. Once. Twice. On the third time he threw up. Ben was whispering something. Or was it Fitz? MJ said people liked to be called by the names they wanted. But why did Peter sound so right?
“T-Tony. I…I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Tony could feel Rhodey’s arms around him as someone (Natasha?) pushed him out of the way. He thought she called for a medic but her voice sounded ridiculously far away. The ringing didn’t though. He touched his ears and his fingers came away sticky and red. (Shaky hands could be a sign of a stroke. Maybe he should check that out.) Tony swayed. Once. Twice. On the third time, everything went black.
He missed the faint orange glow around Benjamin’s head and the shouting that got louder. He missed the wide eyes of his teammates and the quickly retreating car down the dusty driveway in the middle of all the chaos.
It could wait.