Something always on mind? Beck. Beck is always on his mind, because that was another thing he screwed up. So badly. How the hell does something like that even happen?
He let Peter get hit by a train. That’s it. That was all on him. All he can think about are all those horrible things that happened to the kid in just less than five days. It’s on him.
“Tony,” Bruce snaps him out of his thoughts. “It wasn’t on you.”
Tony looks over and frowns, pointing a finger at Bruce. “You think you’d survive going to Europe? Because I’m telling you, you should see the houses there. I don’t even think you’d fit in about ninety-percent of them. They’re tiny.”
“Tony.
Tony scoffs. “It was all on me. I can’t believe I did that. Can you believe I did that? I literally gave him the keys to destruction.”
“No, you didn’t,” Bruce tells him, resting back against his chair. “Accidents happen sometimes. And I can’t even call this an accident. This was just some guy who thought he was smart enough to take over the world. Not all the tech freaks are your responsibility.”
Tony purses his lips, “no. The ones who worked for me are. He wanted EDITH. That’s why he went to Peter. And who gave Peter EDITH? Me.”
“You didn’t know—you could never have anticipated that to happen, otherwise you wouldn’t have given it to him,” Bruce says.
He perks up in a wave of anger, “would you stop saying that. No one cares if it’s an accident. All those people who die when we used to blow up buildings trying to save the world—their parents didn’t care that it was an accident. Those people are still dead.”
Bruce frowns. “Peter didn’t die. He’s fine. And that’s a stupid comparison, I’m sorry for being blunt. I don’t know what your mind goes through, but that wasn’t on you.”
“He’s far from fine.”
“No, but he’s recovering at a good pace. That’s what you should be focusing on.”
“I have to go,” Tony interrupts, standing up from the armchair and stuffing his phone in his pocket. He can’t take the self-pity sessions. That’s what they are. He never gets someone to tell it to him straight. Could he take that though?
Bruce stands up after him, “wait—we’re not done.”
“I have things to do.”
“Tony—”
“You were right. You’re not a therapist,” Tony says. He sees the change in expressions – from confusion to remembering when he said that, and then the shame. Almost feels good about it. A few years too late.
He calls May on the way over, making sure that Peter’s home. He is, she tells him. Maybe he can help, she suggests. He’s not himself apparently.
When he’s actually, physically there, he doesn’t know what he’s going to say. That’s weird. He always knows what to do. Usually. He’s never been in such a difficult situation before, and that says something considering . . . his very long history of very bad situations.
He knocks the door. The new apartment is impressive. May’s work with the charities and organizations after she came back really got her places. As it should have, she did good. She’s doing good.
There’s no answer. He knocks again, “I know you’re inside! Your aunt told me so,” Tony shouts, then straightens himself up. Knocks once again.
The door opens, and there stands Peter. “Do you have to be so loud?” He asks, and Tony’s already inside, closing the door behind himself. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I called. You didn’t pick up. Could’ve saved me a trip,” he lies, following Peter to the door of his room. He stands, leaning against the frame. “How’re things?”
Peter looks at him in confusion. “Why did you come?”
“To check up on you. See how things are . . . hanging. You’ve been doing a great job at dodging my calls,” Tony replies, looking around the room. There’s lots of black tape on the light switch, for one, and a sticky note saying ‘do not switch lights off’. “Is it broken?”
Peter looks to the switch and nods hastily, “yeah. Yeah, it’s—broken.”
“Uh huh. So, tell me. What’s been going on?”
Peter opens his mouth, then looks to his books. “I’ve got a chemistry test to revise for,” he replies. “Important test.”
Tony nods, and then he’s standing over the table. There’s so much writing, and he knows it’s not revision. “You know what’s so cool about homework nowadays?” He asks, picking up one of the notebooks. “It’s all online,” he says, flipping through the pages.
“That’s—” Peter reaches for it, and fails at taking it back, “—mine. Mr Stark—”
“Ned told me,” Tony says, then looks closely at Peter, who seems to be hating their conversation since the second it started. Kind of hurts. “He said—”
“You’re talking to Ned?” Peter asks in disbelief. Betrayal.
Tony frowns. “What’s so bad about just talking it out with me?” He asks.
Peter considers his question, and for a second it looks like they might be getting somewhere. And then he shrugs, “nothing. You can talk to Ned all you like,” he says, scratching at his head.
Tony sits down on the chair. “Don’t be a smartass.”
Peter sighs, “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. Can we just—do this some time else?”
“What’s bad about now? I’m already here.”
“Because I’m busy,” Peter says bluntly.
He waves the papers in the air. “With the nonexistent chemistry test?”
Peter snatches the papers back. “Some other time.”
“Nope, and we’re getting sidetracked,” he sighs. Time to say it. “I came here to apologize. I know what happened was . . . it shouldn’t have happened. He was an explosive kind of person, and I should’ve made sure to prevent anything like that from happening.”
“Is”
Tony narrows his eyes. “What?”
“You said he ‘was’ an—he’s still alive.”
He clenches and unclenches his hands a few times, then looks up at Peter. “He’s gone. Long gone, buddy. Believe me.”
“You can’t be sure. They never found his body,” Peter reminds him. Not that he needs reminding. He knows this, because it’s something that keeps Peter awake at night, which means it also worries May, and in return worries him and Pepper.
Tony exhales loudly. “No, but I’m pretty sure he died in a ditch somewhere. He’s not the ‘go for the long game’ kind of guy.”
Peter shakes his head, face morphing into a ‘what the hell’ kind of expression. “You keep talking about him like he’s your best friend. You don’t know anything about him.”
Tony leans forwards, because he’s really trying his best to explain this to Peter, who just isn’t understanding. “Listen to me, he’s dead. And on the off chance he’s not, Friday’s always working and we’ll know the second he’s back or uses any of that stupid tech he made.”
Peter stands up, “this is why I didn’t wanna talk to you,” he says.
That definitely hurts to hear. “Because I’m telling you not to panic? That makes me the bad guy?”
“No, you keep telling me that what I’m thinking is somehow stupid but you weren’t there!” His voice raises too quickly. Cracks when he says the last part. “You weren’t—none of you saw the things he did. I did. I saw.”
Tony stands up as well, “Peter—” he goes to console him, but is pushed back, and nearly stumbles over the chair, which in turn rolls back and hits the desk.
“He’s—” Peter looks away, tears welling in his eyes. “You don’t take me seriously,” he says, going in to push Tony again.
Tony takes his wrist, “Peter.”
“He could’ve killed me so easily,” he shakes his head as he’s pulled in for a hug. “I can’t let it go. And if I don’t see him for the rest of my life, he’ll always be in the corner of my mind somewhere,” Peter says.
Tony rakes his fingers through Peter’s hair, “then I’ll find him. Wherever he is, dead or alive. I’ll do that.”
Peter pulls back, “I’m not being paranoid.”
“I know you’re not,” Tony says softly. “I’ll find him.”
Peter looks down. “You don’t have to do all this just because—” he shrugs, “—you feel responsible or something,” he says.
They’re standing too close, and he can see the effects of sleeplessness and fear up close, in the dark circles and eyes, which just look sadder than they should. “You’re my—” he throws a hand in the air, “kid.”
His eyes glance at the light switch again. Peter follows it, then clenches his jaw before he speaks. “It’s not broken,” he says, slumping down on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah?” Tony asks. He could tell. The lights are switched off.
Peter nods. “Before we were—there was always so much noise outside. And here, it’s—so quiet. And the lights are off and it’s just—like I’m back in this bad place. The second the train hit me. During the snap when I—” he looks down. “And all these . . . things that all the time—always happen in the dark.” He looks up at Tony again, and smiles hopelessly through the tears. “It’s for May. She forgets. When she comes home she closes them so I—” he points vaguely at the switch.
He sits down next to him again. “She worried about you.”
“She’s always worried about me,” Peter dismisses. “Even before Spider-Man.”
“That’s a good thing,” Tony says. Take it from him, a parentless mess. Obadiah doesn’t count, he decided long ago. What he wouldn’t have gave to have someone like that growing up. “It’s a good thing,” he says again, more or less to himself.
“I know,” Peter tells him. “And I feel bad that she has to wake up every time I have a bad dream or every time I say something and then regret it because she’s always here. She’s the only one who’s always been here.”
And he remembers that Peter’s parents are gone, and so is his uncle, and it all happened in just fourteen years.
“I can’t let anything happen to her,” he says, looking down at the carpet and fiddling with his fingers. “I couldn’t live with that. I wouldn’t survive anything happening to her.” He looks to Tony, who puts his arm over Peter’s shoulder.
“Nothing will.”
“Yeah,” Peter whispers softly.