Left Behind

The thing about living during an apocalypse is there’s nothing to do in the days, when people are less likely to go out and smash some cars for fun. Normally he’d be at school right now… but stuff like that is long forgotten. The whole world is in a complete shutdown… it would be so weird if they forced him to do his homework on the side of that.

So, he does his best to be optimistic. That’s what Aunt May told him to do, and she said he was very good at it. He records videos on his phone, using the side of the wall as a stand, for Ned when he eventually gets him back. He titles the first one ‘surviving the apocalypse’, and the second one is a vlog he makes with a man on the side of the road, who’s trying his best to sell some food. But instead, people try and steal his stock when he’s not looking. It’s sad… so Peter decides that he must keep an eye out for him on his daily patrols. He likes that there’s some good left in the shambles, because it proves that there’s hope for this sad ending to turn happy.

“I can’t believe you’re missing out on this, man!” Peter says into the front camera, speaking directly to Ned. He’s on top of the building he sleeps on to hide from the masses, panning the camera to the bottom of the city. He rests his phone down, “I feel like I’m in real life Shaun of the dead. You know, without the zombies.” He pauses, a light chuckle escaping his mouth. “God, could you imagine if everyone who turned to dust actually became zombies? Man, I’d lose my mind. I’d totally keep you as a zombie friend. I can say with my whole heart that I wouldn’t cut your head off.” He sighs, the wind running through his hair as he watches the sun set again. Another day like this… without his best friend, his aunt, and everyone else he loved. “I miss you, man. I really hope I can see you again one day.”

That night as he tries to sleep, the sounds of car alarms, crying, and gun shots keep him awake. He smells smoke, and as much as he tries to keep it away… it keeps coming back. And there’s no way he can stay asleep. He gives up.

Putting his mask over his face, he jumps down and swings until he lands safely on the floor. Walking in the direction of the chaos for this evening, he’s at a loss for words when he sees how many people were running around. Stealing, assaulting, or any crime you could think of, Peter realises he probably can’t do all of this by himself. But if he can’t be Spider-man, if he can’t help, then who is he?

May would be so disappointed. She wanted him to be good, to be a hero, and if he can’t honour her and live up to her expectations… he feels as if he’s failed. Maybe he should move on… maybe he should just rip up the suit and throw it in the nearest dumpster. But that would be wrong, and it wasn’t a reflection of the person he had grown up to be. If he can’t help them directly, he was going to find a way to reverse all of this. He’d do it! He really could.

Peter walks down the broken roads, all of it a lost version of what it once was. He sees old shops he used to love, their stocks depleted by desperate people, and he must push forward before he breaks. He has a sight set in place, after all. He’s decided he’s going to live in the Avengers tower! They wanted to recruit him before everything went apocalyptic, so maybe they even have a bedroom set up for him in there! Who knows!

He tries to ignore the screaming of people with no homes, desperate to find shelter. They’re starving. It might’ve only been a few months. But it feels a hell of a lot longer when you’re living through a time where everybody’s future is uncertain.

The thing about Peter is, he loves to help. He can’t just turn a blind eye, it’s not like him. So, when he tries to ignore the desperate pleas of many- it takes it out of him. He’d help if he could. But he doesn’t have any money. He eats what people offer him when he’s helped them, and that’s barely enough to keep him going. He’s living on a roof, for crying out loud. How is he meant to help?

He feels useless. With these powers, he should be able to do something. But he can’t conjure edible food out of thin air. He’s not sure if there’s a superhero out there that could do that. And if there was, they were probably dead. Well, statistically it’s a 50/50… but Peter feels like everyone in his life, or people that could help, were the ones that turned to dust. ‘Parker luck’ he thinks, a thing that’s beaten him down so many times that he’s surprised he can even smile anymore. But it’s the people he’s lost that makes him keep going. He’ll do it for them.

Running up to the Avengers’ compound’s tall walls, Peter easily scales them. And before he knows it, he’s inside the grounds and walking up to the futuristic building that looks so… empty. He walks up to the doors, surprised when they simply open with a nudge. He thought it would be harder than this. He walks up a bunch of steps, seeing no signs of activity. He gathers everyone’s right, maybe the Avengers were all wiped out. He was hoping that they’d still be here. He’d ask them for help and, as a team, they’d win- and they’d all by heroes. There would be no fighting, no fires, no crime (well, there would… but it would be the normal amount. It wouldn’t feel like the purge every time they went outside), and he’d have his family back. He can almost see it now. Hugging May until she has to tell him to let go… oh, he can’t wait for the day.

Weirdly, the kitchen is completely stocked. He thought there would be some here because they would’ve had some left over before the snap happened… but this looks like someone else has put this stuff here recently. Maybe there’s some other superhero that thought the compound to be a good hiding spot… or someone who’s really good at parkour.

Peter grabs some snacks from the cupboard, jumping on top of the stool as he slowly eats it. It feels… amazing. He’s been so hungry recently. With less energy, he hasn’t been able to help people… and that means nobody’s given him any money or food. He always feels bad for accepting it, but he’s desperate. And in times like this, you must do whatever you need to get by.

Swinging his legs back and forth on the stool, Peter’s so focused on eating that he doesn’t hear the door open. He doesn’t hear the mechanical sounds, and- well he doesn’t notice that Iron Man’s standing right in front of him in his full suit.

Tony, only a few minutes ago

Hungover and dreary, Tony’s not exactly alert. But he’s smart, and nobody would ever take them from him. So, when there’s an intruder in his home, he knows. Scared and alone, he freaks. What if Thanos has come back to Earth to finish the job? There’s no way he’d be able to win… there’s only him left.

With the little bit of strength left inside, Tony taps his chest. The suit overtakes him. And for the first time in a while, he feels that he can do this. He can be the person that everyone needs. He could win, if he just tried.

Walking up the stairs, he gets a bit shaky. His heart beats faster. Sweat drips down his face. His hands move on their own accord. Tony can still feel the effect of alcohol, he can smell it on his own breath. And if he needs another bottle after this, nobody can blame him. That’s if he makes it.

Getting Friday to locate the intruder, he slowly steps into the kitchen. He raises his hand and targets the… kid? Tony tilts his head to the side, the faceplate lifting. Why on earth was there a random kid in his kitchen? And how did he get here? The security for this place was meant to be impenetrable… he knows, he made it. The kid hasn’t noticed him staring. He’s eating the cereal bar like he hasn’t’ seen food in months (with everything going on, Tony wouldn’t be surprised).

Tony coughs. “Um… hello?”

Peter… now

Peter jumps out of skin, almost falling out of his chair. He’s saved by the gracious hero that’s Tony Stark, who puts his hand over Peter’s bicep to stop him from tumbling over. But as soon as he’s safe, the man lets go and walks backwards.

When the teenager looks Tony in the eye, he realises how scared he looks. But he’s here! He’s really alive! With one of the smartest people on earth, there’s no doubt that they could save everyone. Tony’s mind and Peter’s youthful glow, there’s nothing that could stop them! Oh, they could be a power act. Peter’s mind is swimming with ideas… but it doesn’t look like Tony wants him to be here.

“Woah, Mr Stark! You’re alive!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony mumbles, running his hand through his hair. He tightens the string that’s holding his old robe together, sighing. “Look- kid-,”

“My name’s Peter,” Peter grins, smiling so wide that it hurts just a little bit. But he’s excited, sue him! This is the best possible outcome, he thinks.

Tony pauses. “…Ok? Look, Peter. What on earth are you doing here?”

“Well, Mr Stark- I came here because I thought I could sleep here for a bit. I do apologise, though! I didn’t realise you were still here. Because everyone was saying we lost all the Avengers, and I was so worried. But some people took my old flat- so I’ve been sleeping rough, and this building looked perfect… and I didn’t even think before I tried to get into it- that was stupid of me, I really am sorry. And then you had food- and I was so hungry. I can replace the stuff I ate if you’d like. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

All the talking was giving Tony a headache. Half of it was the pounding of this kid’s voice, the other a result of his late-night drinking. The combination of both… it isn’t pretty. So, as the kid continues to speak… he gets more and more agitated. “Would you just stop a second?” he interrupts, taking a deep breath. “Just… stop.”

“Oh, sorry. I mean- I didn’t mean to annoy you. Sometimes I talk for so long to just-,” he starts, but when he sees Tony staring… he shuts his mouth. “Sorry, I’ll stop. I…”

Peter didn’t think the great Tony Stark would be like this. He thought… well, he’s dreamt of meeting him. They’d talk about science, and Peter would be his right-hand man. Tony would put his arm around Peter’s shoulder, congratulating him for being the next genius in town. But this Tony… he’s closed off, cold, and he’s looking at Peter as if he’s waiting for him to walk out the door. Now. And the smell of alcohol is strong… Peter feels as if he’s intruded on something he shouldn’t have.

“So…. When are you leaving then?” Tony finally says, “And you don’t have to pay me back, of course. I have so much money. In fact, why don’t I give you a million for you to just stay away from me. You’d take that, wouldn’t you?”

Peter looks up, confused. “Uh, I don’t want your money. And- and if you just give me a second to ask you something. I, uh- I think that if we work together then maybe we could find a way to get everyone back. I was thinking… if we just do some extensive research. I’ve heard rumours of spells- like, didn’t Dr Strange have some we could use?”

Tony huffs, turning away from the kid so he doesn’t say something he’ll regret. Clenching his fist, he takes a deep breath in and practises a technique Bruce told him about to remain calm. “Look, kid,” he starts, still facing the opposite side of the room. “Everyone’s gone, okay? They’re dead. Whoever you’re mourning, you’re not getting them back. Accept it. I’ve lost my entire family. If you’re here, I guess you did to. But things like this happen, there’s no reason to get so…” he sighs, “Look, it’s admirable that you want to help. It really is. But I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Peter’s bottom lip trembles, and tears start to gather in his eyes. He’s feels childlike, but it’s just the sharpness of Tony’s words that hit him. He’s tried so hard to hold onto this hope, as stupid as it might be, and the billionaire’s taken that and crushed it before his eyes.

Tony turns around at some point, wondering if the kid took his advice and left… considering he hadn’t heard any noise from him in the last minute. “…Are you crying? Oh, God. This is why I said I’d never have kids. You’re trying to guilt trip me; I get it. But it’s not going to work, kid. I’m not going to join your band of merry men to try and save the day. News flash, I already tried that. As you can see, it didn’t work out that well.” He realises he’s being a bit too harsh on the kid, but… he’s too hopeful, to naïve, and Tony’s just trying to get him used to the real world. Life’s not a flash of rainbows and hope, it’s cruel, fragile, and will break down at any moment. “So, please, just leave… As much as it might seem like it, I don’t like making little kids cry.”

Peter sniffs, wiping his face with the edge of his sleeve. He gets down from the stool he was still stood on, putting his hands in his pockets as he avoids eye-contact with Tony. “I think we could really do it, Mr Stark. I mean it. And you didn’t fail… you tried your best, it’s not your fault that we lost.”

“You’re really beginning to test my patience now,” Tony says, “I said… get out. And I meant it.”

“I just don’t think you’re really listening to me. I-I think there’s a possibility to manipulate time… if we get to Dr Strange. He survived too, didn’t he? He could probably find a spell… Maybe we don’t even have to find him! We could do it ourselves. I could help. And I promise I’d stay out of your way. Plus, it would be nice to have somewhere to sleep. It’s scary out there and I-,”

“For fuck sake!” Tony shouts, breaking. He doesn’t want to scare ‘Peter’. He seems like a good kid. A smart, kind, boy- someone who’s far too good to be pulled down by Tony. He barely deserved friends like he had, and they were taken from him. He wouldn’t want to find himself getting attached to a kid. He’s not the ‘adoptive’ father type, as much as Rhodey or Pepper said otherwise. “Kid, I’m going to say this one more time and this time can you actually listen to me? It won’t work. We can’t win. We won’t. So, get over it, okay?! We’ve all lost people. You’re not special here. I’m sure a lot of people have so many ideas about how they’d change it, or what they would’ve done. But he was too powerful, kid. Nobody was going to stop him, and nobody would if we even had a slight chance of re-doing it. And… no offence, kid, but what the hell are you going to do about it? The ‘world’s mightiest heroes’ didn’t stand a chance… so a small kid isn’t really going to shake the boat… is it? Now get out of my house before I force you to leave.” He takes a deep breath. “And you can take the million. It’ll be plenty to buy yourself a house.”

“I don’t… I don’t want your money, Mr Stark. I just wanted you to… to help. But I get it. It’s too much… and I shouldn’t have tried to force it onto you. I’m sorry,” Peter says, eyes still downcast. He slowly walks away, and he’s never felt this… down. He can’t keep himself straight as he wonders down to doorway that opens onto the staircase.

“Peter, wait,” Tony says, calling him back to the kitchen.

Turning around, his heart in his throat, Peter glances over to where Tony’s standing. Did he change his mind? Is he really going to help him? Peter walks over with a bit of apprehension in his step… and his hope that the rant was all just a front to get it out of his system was crushed. He really meant it. He only got him to come back because of the bag of sweets, random snacks, and an old blanket with ‘Stark’ woven into it that he puts down by his feet.

“If you’re not going to accept the money, at least take some stuff to get you by,” Tony offers. “I…I’m sorry about your situation, Peter, but you have to just… just accept it, okay? It was nice to meet you, but… we could never fix it. So, keep being all optimistic and all but just make sure it’s not around me.”

Peter takes the bag, shoving it in his rucksack that has all his possessions in. He walks out of the compound’s gates, scaling the wall once more to get out. Tony’s a forgotten memory (or at least he tries to tell himself that he is) when he finds himself on the roof again. It’s freezing. He’s pretty sure that there’s some snow falling from the sky. And he finds himself shivering. Opening the bag, he looks inside the bag the billionaire got him. Pulling out the blanket, he wraps himself in it. It’s warm. And if he closes his eyes, it’s as if he’s sat back down on the sofa with Aunt May holding him. They’re watching Star Wars, and they’re laughing. Ned’s sat on the opposite side of the sofa. They have him over for a sleepover. They’ll build the Lego death star after the film’s done.

Peter knows he won’t just ‘get over it’ like Tony said. The billionaire is mourning, so Peter can see why he was so frustrated… but there’s always hope. So, the teenager says to himself that he’s not going to give up. He’ll go back to the compound one day. Whether it be in a day, or in a month or so when he’s found the information that he wants to give Tony… but he will. And he’ll show Tony that he doesn’t have to move on, that they’re loved ones are only a reach away. They have to be, don’t they? Because if they’re not… then there’s no reason to wake up every morning. There’s no reason to keep the streets clean. There’s just no reason for anything.

But Peter refuses to believe in that. Because… as stupid as it sounds, he can feel it. He knows that May’s just around the corner.

However, before he saves the world… he needs to sleep. So, that’s what he does. Being a saviour isn’t a one-night job, after all.

Tony…

Tony sits back on his bed, a glass of scotch on his bedside table. He knows he should sleep, but if he’s honest… he feels a little guilty. Flashes of that kid’s face stop him from closing his eyes. Thinking of him out in the cold, scared and alone… he wants to go out and find him. But why should he? It’s not his responsibility. It was never his role to be a saviour, to keep the world from breaking. And when he did take it up, he failed. So only God knows what he’d do to the kid if he ever tried to help. He’d probably make it worse. So, it was easier to shout and tell him to go away than it was to let him in. Even if it makes him feel like the Earth’s worst monster.

Leaning over, he grabs the glass and takes a sip. The sip turns into more, and before he knows it the bottle’s empty. The feeling numbs him, and he finds himself standing in his lab with no recollection of how he got here. He’s looking in a cabinet which he used when he worked on his teammate’s weapons and armour, staring at it all like it has offended him. Looking down at the empty glass in his hand, he has a moment of anger so harsh it takes it out of him. He smashes the side of the bottle, before turning his assault to the stuff he used to make. He throws Steve’s shield onto the floor, he snaps Clint’s arrows, and he throws Nat’s widow bites across the room until they land amongst the remains of an abandoned project.

“It’s not fair!” he screams, as he picks up one of Clint’s bows. The bow falls into pieces. “Why- why did it have to be me?!” he cries out. Falling to his knees around Thor’s old cloak he used to love, he holds it to his face as anger becomes distress, and then the distress turns into depression. It’s a quick turnaround, as if his emotions are playing a game with him. But it has always been like that, since the moment he realised his father cared more about finding an old friend in the Artic than he did about loving his son. He’s been raised to hide his emotions, to keep them hidden away. It’s why they come and go so quickly, and it’s why he doesn’t have a clue on how to control them. “Why didn’t it take me?” he whispers to no-one at all (well, apart from Friday- who’s really disliking the amount he’s drinking at the moment. But she’s an AI and she can’t comprehend just how much he’s lost here, so she can keep quiet).

By the time he can see, tears leaving his face with a quick wipe of his sleeve, the lab’s a complete mess. But- he doesn’t care. And he doesn’t care that his hands are covered in his own blood, a reflection of the meltdown he’s just had. He doesn’t clean it up. He doesn’t want to. Because he can hear crying outside from people he could help, their pain far out-weighing whatever he’s going through.

“Friday, how much booze do we left?” Tony says, carefully hanging the cloak back up. Pretty much everything else is in pieces, or missing around the room, but at least he can handle one of his old friend’s items with dignity. “Please, just tell me,” he asks, when the AI doesn’t respond. There must be some type of program the team asked him to put in when he started his ‘sober’ journey, but there not here anymore to see his progress (or lack of it), so it doesn’t matter. He’ll drink all he wants, even if it kills him. In fact, maybe that’s what he’s hoping for.

“I’m afraid that I can’t tell you, sir. It’s for your own benefit.”

“Damn it, Friday,” Tony curses, taking deep breath. “Fine, okay? Fine, I’ll just- I’ll just go down and look and then if we don’t have any- I’ll go and buy some more. It’s not like you can stop me.”

And that’s just what he does. There are loads left, but he can see how much he’s gone through since the snap. It’s a lot. Too much, probably. But that doesn’t stop him as he pops open another bottle. And as he sits on the floor, drink in the air, he cheers the young kid that came in earlier.

“To Peter, may you never try and save the world again. Because, trust me, you’ll regret it,” he says, before he takes a swig. He pauses, laughing to himself in his drunken state. “And here’s to never seeing you here again, because I never want to see someone so good again.”