To The Ends of the Earth

The crack of dawn had hardly emerged, sunlight barely shining behind the hillside as Peter jogged excitedly down the path of stepping-stones that led away from his friends’ lodgings. Trekking through verdant ferns dripping with opalescent dew, the brunette boy eagerly brushed the faintest hint of sweat from upon his brow as he made his way past the edge of town, past neighborhoods so silent it was suffocating, and through cloud after cloud of icy fog before stopping just across the pristine pavement of Glendale Avenue to catch his breath. A large manor stood before him, all-too familiar, radiating coldness and yet warmth.

Peter smiled, slight crow’s feet becoming apparent as he did so, a faint and eager redness to his cheeks in the bitter frost.

“Time to get some answers, Pete,” he chided himself all-too eagerly whilst crossing the street.

Peter had no wits about him as he climbed the gated entrance to the house with nimble balance, until he had swung over and landed on the other side, praying that the other man’s compassion would excuse his overzealous actions. Even so, Peter had a strange clenching in his gut, something telling him the man who owned Stark Manor would most definitely understand. He continued on his way, rapping against the door with a sharp knock.

Not too long after, the entrance creaked open and a tired eye peered out from inside the establishment, looking the boy up and down.

“Mister Peter?” A familiarly jovial voice seemed hoarse in the early light. “What brings you here so soon?”

“My apologies, Jarvis,” Peter bounced on his feet as the butler escorted him in. The house’s warmth was like a quilt, draped over his shoulders and bellowing with hospitality, and yet somebody’s presence was missing.

“I’m not here to bring papers, actually,” sheepishly, the younger boy went on. “You see, I didn’t mean to wake you so early, really, I didn’t, but a question was making my heart ache and I sincerely couldn’t bear it-”

“Never apologize for exhibiting curiosity,” Jarvis simply said. Peter’s eyes glistened with hope and earnest as the butler finished. “No matter what time of night or day.”

Now reassured, Peter nodded firmly. “That’s right.” He glanced to the side, at the globe. “Say, where is Mister Stark today- is he still sleeping in the upper quarters?”

Sighing, Jarvis shook his head. “He is, unfortunately, quite busy at the moment, as Mister Stark has chosen to spend the morning at the cemetery.”

The cemetery? Peter’s heart dropped to his gut, memories coming back, memories that struck tremors into his hands and agony into his chest. Drawing a harsh breath, he was grateful when Jarvis had gotten up to offer him some tea.

“Thank you,” Peter murmured sweetly once he had collected himself. He let the hot liquid burn his throat on the way down, anything to keep him from choking on his voice in front of Mr. Stark’s butler. Jarvis merely sat back at his seat, calmly stirring sugar cubes into a cup of his own.

“Sorry, I-” Pete stammered anxiously after a while. “My mother passed when I was rather young, and I do tend to freeze up when the issue resurfaces.”

“No matter,” Jarvis, once again, excused the boy freely. “I can tell you are doing your best to assuage yourself. The fact that you shared such a detail means something, it does indeed.”

Peter supposed he agreed, he did try to be rather open about his feelings. Unlike Ned, who preferred to sort matters out from a logical perspective, or Michelle Jones, who bottled her emotions until she couldn’t bear it, the teen had always liked sharing, even if, at certain times, it brought his heart sorrow.

“Is he lonely?” Peter piped up. Jarvis set down his spoon with a light clank and nodded.

“I would hate to lie,” was the butler’s forlorn reply. “For he is, and very.”

This saddened Peter slightly, but not for long. The boy stood up, inspired by his common ground with the grieving man who had also awoken far too early for his own good, and ignored Jarvis’s wandering eyes as he approached the door.

“I don’t want Mister Stark to be lonely,” Peter stated. Jarvis had a look on his face the young man couldn’t explain as he continued. “I want to try and go talk to him.”

“Wait,” Jarvis protested, but Peter was already determined to help Mister Stark in any way he could, and a little chilly weather was not about to stop him. He turned to thank Jarvis for the tea and say his goodbyes, but instead found the lanky butler holding up a stable key.

Horses. A carriage, Peter mused.

“Wait,” Jarvis repeated once more, gesturing towards another door. “It’s frigid, and the weather will be like this all day. Allow me to drive you.”

~

Jarvis dropped the young boy off at the cemetery’s outskirts, no words being exchanged between them in the meantime. Only farewells and a firm awareness that Peter was merely doing what needed to be done. He was going to get answers to his questions, and, in the process, potentially help a soul in need. Peter made his way down a grassy knoll, sloping gently towards a gravelly pathway lined with lilies and soaked with the first few traces of rain. The sky overhead was a dull bluish grey, periwinkle clouds like fairy floss rolling slowly across the sky.

Peter understood that maybe Mister Stark wanted to be alone, and if that were the case he would immediately depart from the area. However, deducting from what the boy’s past encounters with lonely people had taught him, Peter doubted that would be the case. Even so, he had an umbrella from the manor on standby if he needed to make a trip back to his home without assistance.

The brunette was not walking for long when he noticed a silhouette, the only figure amongst desolate tombstones of marbled grey, bent and whispering over a flat plaque embedded on the ground. He appeared to be aimlessly muttering to himself, his words meandering between grief, regret, and sorrow, pleading with the name inscribed for some forgiveness. A few more lilies, which had been roughly torn from the roadside behind him, lay dismally across the plaque’s perimeter. Peter plugged his ears and waited to give the man a few more moments of privacy.

Once Mister Stark had finished, he looked up to see a sprinkling haze of precipitation lightly dusting his surroundings with more rain. He sighed, ready to get up, and stopped.

“Mister Stark?” Peter called, as the man froze, turning to the teenager running in his direction. Panting from the exertion, Peter pulled out the umbrella and quickly opened it over the headstone, preserving the flowers and phrases with a beaming smile on his face.

“K-kid?” The older man stuttered, trying to regain his composure. How long had the boy seen him like this? How long had he listened to him talking? If it weren’t for such a comforting expression gracing the adolescent's features, Tony very well may have lashed out in anger for violation of his privacy. Nonetheless, he sighed and rubbed his temples for a moment.

“What- what are you doing here?”

Peter spun the handle of the umbrella deftly between his fingers. “I wanted to be there for you,” he answered bluntly, and Mister Stark was taken aback. “You seem in the need for some company, and I get the pain of recovering from loss.”

Ohoh. Stark chuckled bitterly. “Alright, kid, I don't think so. What do you actually want from me,” he began, defenses up and fortified. “More cash? I didn’t bring any on me, hate to break it to ya.”

Peter just shook his head.

“I have a question- for you, sir.”

Mr. Stark cocked a brow, half-curiously.

“Hit me.”

And hit him with his words, Peter did.

“What did you lose to your decisions?”

There it was. The scent of booze, burlesque bodies and gruff laughter from across the table. Poker chips. Late nights. Coming home with briefcases of cash or handing them away with reluctance and shame. Tears hitting hardwood. Fists hitting granite. All of it, coming apart like lilies wilting amidst a winter storm.

Mister Stark was lost for a moment, his mind holding him hostage, deep brown eyes glassed over- Peter was patiently waiting, umbrella still held staunchly over the gravestone, as he got his reply.

“Everything.”

Silence settled between the two, until, as if they shared a simultaneous thought, the teenager and the businessman both took seats in front of the graves just inches away from them, letting the canvas overhead shelter them from the now-pouring rain. Sighs echoed through the air every once in a while, but the compassionate gaze in Peter’s eyes never vanished.

“You don’t have to tell me, sir,” he shrugged after a while. “Just know that I understand. Your decisions are in the past, and while it is alright to grieve them, they don’t define you.”

Mister Stark closed his eyes.

“Tony.”

Peter turned his head inquisitively. “Pardon, sir?”

“My name’s Tony. Tony Stark,” Tony gestured to the headstone so that Peter would fixate his amber gaze at the message atop it.

Here Lies Pepper Stark, beloved wife of Tony Stark

“To the ends of the earth we could go, and yet in each other alone we will find solace.”

Both men were silent. Peter reached out tentatively, placing a gentle hand upon Mister Stark’s shoulder.

“I’m sure she would want you to be happy,” the brunette smiled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Tony’s heart ached; why was a kid from the streets that had never once tasted privilege, let alone love, so… compassionate to him? Why did his words resonate so deeply, and why did the two men, one young and naïve, the other an older and broken spirit, seem to empathize with each other so much?

Tony huffed, taking a peek at the sky. “You might be right, kid.”

A comfortable silence blanketed the two, and there was only the sound of rain and the occasional rub of one another’s shoulder for a while. At one point, Tony had reached out from where he was seated and ruffled the kid beside him's hair. Something about it made Peter giggle, and the two exchanged small smiles.

“Mister Stark?”

“Hm?”

Peter looked conflicted and so hopeful, Tony just wanted to protect him from the world. From any demons that might touch the precious boy.

“Mister Stark.." Pete said again, his tone shaky but his eyes sincere.

"..will you come and see the world with me?”