The Infinite Child

“You’re a hard man to track down...of course your little waltz through time square helped a bit.” 

Peter stares at the cold metal slab in front of him instead of the human eyes watching him curiously. Like an animal in a zoo, people stared in awe and disbelief. As if this was all a dream of theirs made up inside of their tunnel of imagination. 

“You’re smarter than that though. You would have never walked through such a high risked area without a reason.” Fury observed the silent suspect. Tense body language, blank expression, dead eyes. All that the suspect was exhibiting showed him that the kid wasn’t gonna speak anytime soon unless Fury broke the ice.

“Why did you turn yourself?” The question was blunt, not furious. He was trying to be neutral about the situation, show the suspect that he wasn’t like those who gave him the guilt ridden glare. 

No answer again, leaving Fury stuck in square one. He glanced at the two way glass, staring at where presumably an agent stood. He knew that behind the glass was his best agent watching, observing what she could. The only person who could watch without getting emotional like Stark. Having him even see the kid even from the corner of his eye was a risk. He tended to get emotional, a human flaw that always seemed to burn him every time. 

“Fine,” Fury slammed a Shield Pad on the table, making the kid jump in his seat, “Tell me what's happened here.” He slid the pad into the kid’s eye line, pressing the play button on the security footage. It was of the incident. 

Peter tried to look away, unable to watch the disaster but Fury wouldn’t let him. He was forced to watch the horror of his actions. His eyes felt heavy with tears that burned. When the footage went black, the teen let out a shaky breath. His body trembled as he gripped on tightly to his wrist. 

“Please...just arrest me. Do whatever...” Peter whispered. “I did it. I killed those men...I’m guilty.” Fury sat back, staring at the broken teen with conflicting emotions. The kid admitted guilt, now all he had to do was arrest him formally but something stopped him. There was something inside him telling him to ask more, search deeper. 

However the director reminded himself that he wasn’t here to tend to this child’s emotions. He was here to bring justice. 

“Peter Parker you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...”

Peter sat in the cold cell, wondering whether he would die in prison. 

Fury was right, walking through Time Square wasn’t a mistake. He showed his face knowing they had every traffic camera and cellphone listening. It was the best plan he had to draw them out. He waited until he saw the Agents make their way through the crowd. Despite the weakened tugs of the stones he sat on the bench watching the sky carefully. He remembers feeling Fury sit next to him, as if to say it was over without even opening his mouth. All he did was holding out his arms in surrender and follow them to his grave.

Peter dragged his index finger on the smooth metal wondering whether there was another person on the other side.  Where they tracing the walls like him? Or were they asleep? Or were they unaware of his presence?

Suddenly the sound quicken footsteps caught his attention. They moved down the hall, stopping next to his. At first Peter didn’t want to move, he didn’t want the guilt. 

“I’ll cover for you.” 

The words felt foreign, so cold and distant. The teen cringed mentally. He felt the cell doors dematerializes, telling him that if he ran he wouldn’t be electrocuted with bolts of electricity. He didn’t move. 

“Hey!” Before Peter could react to his senses, he was grabbed his shirt, yanking him off the cold bench. He was slammed into the wall where he was met face to face with a Shield uniform. “So you’re the bastard the killed my friends, huh?” 

Peter couldn’t speak. His throat constricted and his eyes were saucers. 

“You call yourself a hero but really you’re just a brat in a suit,” The Agent spat. His words were venomous, infecting him, rendering his body paralyzed. “Tell me, did you get off on it? Is that why you did it?!” 

“I-It was an accident…” 

Peter was thrown to the ground like a piece of trash left in a junkyard. His body collided with the hard cold ground beneath him. He could barely take a breathe before the Agent’s leg met his stomach. All the air was knocked out of him like a deflated balloon. 

Fight back.

Red Skull yelled at him to fight, to stand for himself and use the power blessed onto him to stand up. 

No.

Peter didn’t raise a hand. He let the cold fist connect to his face. He allowed the release of anger on his body, staying on the ground. He wouldn’t take another life. Never again. Not like this.

He needs this, the pain, to make him feel something, anything.  

He deserves this.

“Fury!” The Agent’s friend exclaimed. The man attacking him froze, running out of the cell, following his friend and shutting the cell doors as Fury’s heavy steps grew closer. They ran, leaving Peter bloody and defenseless. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Fury sounded upset as his eyes landed on the beaten teens body. “Would any of you like to explain why Stark’s ward is bleeding on the ground?!” The Agents shrugged, protecting their fellow comrades. They knew but would never turn.

“Shit,” Fury cursed. Stark would bring a hurricane when he sees what happened to his precious mentee in custody. 

“Who the hell did this to you?!” 

Peter held an ice pack to his bruised eye, avoiding eye contact. After the time away, looking at Stark felt like fire to his skin. A feeling of disappointment filled him. His body closed off, his eyes burning holes into the cold table underneath him. 

“He’ll live,” Strange muttered, finishing addressing the wounds covering the teen’s body. Luckily he was already healing so there wasn’t much they could do. He didn’t warn the kid when he dumped the rubbing alcohol over his wounds, maybe he was a bit bitter about the whole left unconscious in the woods.  

Peter barely hissed when the last bit of rubbing alcohol dripped onto the fresh wounds, instead clenching his other fist. 

“You know any normal half-brained doctor could’ve done this,” Strange told Stark. 

“No offense but I’d rather take your magical ass over Fury’s mental agents to look after the kid,” Stark grumbled as he examined the scrapes and bruises. 

Strange didn’t seem to react at the billionaires words however he closed the medical kit he borrowed quickly as if to say he was done. 

“I’ll leave you two be.” Strange states, standing abruptly and leaving. 

Peter clutched the ice pack tighter as the door closed behind the wizard. When the two were alone, his head fell like a child awaiting a scolding. He waited for Stark to yell at him for being so stupid. To tell him he was monster for what he did. He couldn’t imagine the disgust Stark felt for him. He must’ve hated him for all he did. He was a horrible excuse for a human being. 

Peter shut his eyes, awaiting the anger and disgust. However it never came. Instead he felt a warm hand on his cheek, planting itself on his cold pale skin. It pricked for a moment as the warmth of Stark’s hand heated up his skin.  It reminded him of the way Ben would do the same to him. The hand led him to met the billionaires gaze.

“When I get my hands on the bastards who did this to you, I swear to god I’m gonna kill them.” The surprised on his face was unrideable. How could Tony still care for him and look at him with his soft gaze? Why didn’t he hate him? Why didn’t he disown the kid once and for all? Get rid of the extra baggage he didn’t need. The murder. 

“I’m fine,” Peter muttered weakly, pulling himself away from Stark’s fiery touch. The abrupt coldness on his cheek was like a smack across the face. The sudden emptiness where Tony’s soul shined left a giant hole in him.

“If you call having a concussion, black eye, and bruised body being fine then I guess you must be thriving.” Tony leaned on the table, pulling his hand away with a tinge of disappointment. 

Peter’s fist clench. Sarcasm wasn’t what he needed to hear. In fact, he didn’t need Stark to be here. He didn’t need anything. He glared at the wall, avoid eye contact with his mentor. 

Peter knew Fury’s Agents were watching, plotting their next attack on him while Strange and the man himself were trying to figure out what to do with him next. He could hear them talking like he wasn’t a person. Like a toy that could be discarded. 

However that’s what he was. Just a being that people threw away like some out of date toy after they grew bored of it. Nobody cared about him. He was just a poor orphan kid with the shadow of death by his shoulder. That’s what everyone saw him as. Well everyone except Beck. He was the one person who didn’t throw him away, abandoned him, use him. He stuck by him even when it meant he could die. 

Beck sacrificed his life in the end. Then again, when didn’t it end that way?

Suddenly banged his hands on the desk, ripping the cuffs that held him apart before throwing the table against the wall in a fit of sudden rage. 

“Okay, anger outburst,” Tony states out loud, pointing out the obvious, “feel better?” 

Agents burst in holding their weapons, aiming to stun however Stark had a very different plan.

“Shoot him and I’ll make sure you fry to a crisp,” Tony threatened, barely sparing a glance at the men and women. 

“It’s your funeral,” Agent Beckham told the billionaire with a bitterness. He led his men out, deciding if Stark wanted to die, who was he to stop him?

“Go home Mister Stark,” Peter told his mentor, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“When my kid is in trouble, hell yeah I should be here,” Tony pointed out, crossing his arms. 

Peter shook his head, “I’m not your kid.”

Tony pretended not to be hurt by the kid’s comment. He sucked up his emotions and just focused on the kid, who was in desperate need. Plus, this wasn’t about him. This was about helping the kid. 

“Did you kill those people?”

Peter fell silent, his eyes rising to the window onto his reflection. He studied his pale, sunken face. Any trace of his old self gone, replaced by a dysfunctional robotic monster. His breath hitched, giving the billionaire his answer. 

“Why?”

Peter glanced at the billionaire for the first time in such a long time, his eyes full of salty tears. He didn’t say anything but Tony didn’t push. He knew the kid, the guilt was eating him up inside. Gnawing at him like a hungry piranha. The kid must’ve had his reasons.

However a voice lingered over him, echoing him, knitting holes of self doubt.

“Have you seen what I’ll become?” 

“This is the end.”