Chapter Text
One by one. That's how they went.
He watched with wide, wandering eyes as the heroes before him slowly faded away. Their bodies drifted off into the wind as if there was never anything there in the first place. A small pile of dust leaving the only proof of the fact that there was once someone standing in that very spot.
It was painful to witness the fear pooling in these heroes' eyes as they watched their friends fade out of existence, and then glance down to come to the terrifying realization that the same was happening to them. That they lost: that it was over... and there was no going back. The confused desperation displayed in their expressions when they look up at him for the final time, as dust dances at their feet, causes his chest to tighten in an uncomfortable knot, because there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do to save them. There was no loophole, no trick... he had no idea what to do.
Their faces were blurred, and their names were forgotten, floating in the back of his mind, just beyond his reach no matter how far he stretched to find it. Why couldn't he remember their names? Why didn't he recognize them even though their faces were so familiar? What he did know… he knew they didn't deserve this. They were good... he knew they were good. They didn't deserve it.
He choked back on the lump in his throat as he watched each individual face fade away into the empty expanse of the unfamiliar horizon. They were gone. There was nothing left of them except for the dreadful pile of dust that pooled where their feet once were. The painful reminder of what it once was.
He was running out of time. There was slowly becoming nothing left of the heroes who ‘used to be’, and soon, there would be nothing left of him either.
That is how it works, isn't it? He's left to witness the consequences of his failure before facing the same fate himself even when he's not sure what led him there in the first place.
He needs to keep it together though, because this… this wasn't real. It couldn't possibly be real. How could he have screwed up this badly? What could he possibly have done for all these people, these heroes, before him to suffer this terrible fate.
He watched, helplessly, as the last man's body slowly mutated into those dreadful flakes and piled together right where he had once been sitting against the rock after mumbling an onslaught of indiscernable words that he couldn't quite decipher… and then patiently waited for his turn.
He felt the deep desire building inside of him and he yearned to be taken with the others. He wanted to watch as the dust slowly appeared at his fingertips, giving him a single moment to realize what was to happen only seconds later. It would be one moment. Only one second of hysteric, manic fear before he drifted off into the wind and his very own pile of dust formed where he was standing. There would be no pain, no feeling, no thinking. Just a short spurt of dread before he had the joy of feeling absolutely nothing. Peace of mind is what it’s supposedly called, and oh, what a feeling that must be. A lifetime of pain and suffering would all be forgotten before he finally received the fate he deserved. Death; and all he had to do was wait just a little while longer.
He failed, he screwed up. This was his legacy; this was his fate. He had always been destined to fail, and then die in the process. He had always known. No matter how many wrongs he tried to right, no matter how many problems he tried to fix, and no matter how many people he tried to help… this was it; this was his legacy. It was his turn to finally suffer the punishment he deserved.
Although, this feeling in his chest felt far from any form of suffering. What was that? Relief? He could feel the burdens of the world lift from his shoulders, and he could finally… finally breathe again. He could feel all of it. All the sorrow, pain, rejection, and betrayal slowly emerge from the cages of his mind and heart, where it had been festering during its years of confinement. It all drifted away, and he was ready.
He was ready to finally be at peace. To join the others who had suffered the same fate of death. It was finally his turn… after all these years of waiting.
He took in one final breath. He had to savor the sweet sensation of fresh air seeping into his lungs one last time, because he knew he'd never get the opportunity to feel it again. It should have saddened him, but, instead, a small smile slowly edged it's way up the corners of his mouth at the prospect of never having to breathe again. Of never having to accumulate a panicked fear from the lack of air during his nightly panic attacks, because this was it. It was finally happening.
So, he gently closed his eyes and waited with his relieved smile still present on his face. He waited for it to come, for it to take him to a place unknown. He waited for that final feeling of nothingness to surge through him, as he was picked apart into miniscule pieces, and float away. Forgotten, and alone; finally being able to sleep, to not think. To just be… nothing.
He knew that the world would be safer without him there to screw it up. He'd been selfish in the past, with his attempts to stay alive; he knew that now. He had thought he was needed, heck, even just wanted by a select few of people… but he knew now. This is what was good for everyone, this is what had always been good, and he should have committed to the brief thoughts plaguing his mind constantly throughout the years... but he'd been a coward. He'd been selfish, but not anymore.
This is what he wanted, this is what the world needed, this is what he, along with many others, had been wishing for for a long time. He'd apologize to Pepper, and maybe Rhodey, for not coming home, but they're better off without him too. Even Peter… It's best that he's gone so poor, innocent Peter has the chance of turning out alright. It’d be a shame for a good person like Peter Parker to be ruined by a person like Tony Stark. This was for the best...
But the dust never came. He never felt that enticing sensation dancing along his fingertips to warn of his impending doom. He felt nothing but the large pressure, from the pain slowly seeping back into his chest. His hope dwindled momentarily as he wondered why he was the only one left. Out of everyone who merrited death, wasn't he the one that deserved it the most?
“M-Mr. Stark?”
No. Peter was here too. NO!!
He heard the fearful quiver in his boy's voice and he knew what was coming. The dread that had escaped him earlier returned as a large wave. It nearly knocked him to his knees as all hope of finally being at peace was ripped from his grasp… because his kid was dying. He had to watch as Peter was taken from him, and the sudden prospect of losing him had his heart clawing at his chest, painfully, and he just wanted to scream. This kid… this was the most precious thing in his life, and he was too dumb to only realize it until it was too late. Now… there was nothing he could do about it. The world was cruel... and the world was going to make him watch.
“I-I don't feel so good…”
The boy stumbled forward, into his unsuspecting, shaky arms. He couldn't do anything but drag in heavy breathes as his chest grew tighter and his lungs constricted around his heart, because no! No! This couldn't be happening. Not to his poor, innocent Peter. Tony Stark, the man of so many sins, was the one supposed to die. This was supposed to be his passing, not Peter’s. Oh, please not Peter. Anybody but Peter...please.
He clutched the boy in his arms, pulling him tightly against his chest, in hopes of sharing some of the odd karma that seemed to work against death. Maybe if he were to squeeze him hard enough the universe would let Peter stay, and then maybe his time on Earth would be just a little more bearable. He'd do anything. He'll stay alive without a fight if Peter could just stay, because for some damn reason the universe chose to favor him over the more precious people in the world… the most precious: Peter. Without that stupid, self-sacrificing kid, there wouldn't be anything else in his life worth living for. No. Please, no.
That's when he saw it. He saw the familiar specks dancing in the wind, he heard the whine in the kid’s voice as he begged to be saved. He-he was helpless, he couldn't do anything, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. All he could do was squeeze his kid as tight as he could and hope to etch the feeling into his mind so he would never forget it. Because he knew… he knew he wouldn't have the opportunity to feel it ever again, and that… that’s what broke his heart. It was ironic really… the first hug he ever gave Peter was also the last. What he wouldn't give to hold him in his arms and never have to let him go ever again… but it was too late for that.
Oh, why Peter? Just why? Why him?
He slowly lowered them to the ground while Peter continued to cry out for his hero to save him. He felt his own eyes begin to water again, because this was getting to be too much, and he didn't think he could handle it anymore. Peter fully believed that Tony had the ability to save him, but Tony couldn't. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do. Nothing except let down his kid for the last time.
Then, with just a single blink… He was gone. Peter was gone. All that was left was dust. Dust? Ash? No. It was Peter. That was Peter, that used to be Peter.
And that's when he felt it. That's when Tony Stark finally and truly felt nothing. Absolutely nothing: all he ever wanted.
He had expected to feel that overwhelming sensation of searing pain flood through his body as he mourned his precious loss, but instead, he went limp. There was an unfamiliar numbness encompassing his heart. It had given up. So, any feelings were blotted out by the hardened numbness that slowly spread through the rest of his body. The tears that he had been desperately trying to hold back fell freely down his cheeks in streams. There were no forces holding them back anymore.
Then, he slowly lifted his hand to inspect the remnants of dust that had strayed onto his fingers. He stared blankly at the ash-like substance, his head cocking to the side as if he were confused to what it was. He knew, though. That was Peter. That was what was left of Peter.
He should have felt SOMETHING! Why can't he feel anything?! The numbness overtook the sadness and anger that was buried beneath it, and he felt empty. The tears fell harder, and sobs wracked his frame even despite the lack of sorrow in his heart. It was too much for him to handle, and for the first time in his whole life his brain wouldn't work. He couldn't comprehend, he couldn't compute… Peter was gone; everyone was gone. And he was all that was left...
He was all that was left… and it was all his fault.
Nothing. He felt nothing. No pain. He should feel something!!
He was broken. He wasn't human anymore. How could he be human when he felt like this?
He had just a few seconds. A few short seconds of empty, painless sorrow before the universe realized that numbing the pain was too good for the man that failed everybody time and time again.
So, the heavy emotions that had been hanging over his head crashed down on top of him in one swift, painful movement. His jaw tightened, and his stomach churned, because it was too much, too fast. It was crushing him, and he could no longer breathe. Too much, too fast.
Peter was dead, and he was still alive. He didn't deserve life, and Peter didn't deserve death. Yet, here they were, or… here he was. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair
It was too much. Too much, too fast.
His throat was raw, and he didn't even realize he was screaming until he fell forward into the pile of dust, signifying the presence of another person that there once was. His lungs screamed for air, his throat was throbbing from the strain and the tears trailed down his cheeks, dropping into the pile he was bent over, and burning his skin like acid.
The strangled scream that emitted from his throat was something he'd rather not hear again. The sound of pure and utter agony, because what else could it be when he felt like this. He's the man that killed the Avengers. He's the man that killed his son. He killed all of them. And that's not even the worst part. No. That's definitely not the worst part.
Why was he still here?
The tears fell in streams down his face and he clenched his fists at his side as he screamed into the large, empty expanse. Gripping Peter’s ashes in his tight fisted hands.
“NOOO!!”
Because what else was there to be said? It's not like anyone was around to hear him anyway.
***
One sharp intake of breath and he was awake. Sitting upright in his bed as the beads of sweat dripped down his face. What the heck was that?
It was so real. But it couldn't have been, right? Peter was still alive, he was still okay. Everyone was okay. He would know if it was real, right? He's had enough of those PTSD induced nightmares to tell the difference between real and fake, right? Oh, god. Please just let it be another dream.
He glanced to the space next to him where Pepper was sleeping peacefully. He slowed his breathing to bearable and ran the back of his hand along her bare arm slowly. Feeling the soft skin contrasting against his callused knuckles. She was alive, that meant it was just a dream. It was only a dream. Another one of those weird dreams that made him think he had psychic abilities. What in the world was going on?
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and groaned, because it was 3 in the morning and there was no way he could go back to sleep.
He slipped out of the room as quietly as he could, because Pepper deserved to sleep, she had been working so hard lately. She was trying to prepare things for the wedding as well as doing SI CEO stuff. She needed her sleep.
After the dream he had the previous night he expected for the nightmares to dwindle down a bit. Hoping for more wonderful dreams of baby Morgan and beautiful Pepper standing outside looking at the little goats they had on their family farm. But that was all a dream too. Pepper had confirmed it yesterday, during their morning jog. It was just a dream.
He sighed and ran a hand down his face, because this dreaming thing was getting ridiculous. Maybe he could invent some sort of medication to prevent dreams and nightmares. Was that even possible? Probably. Hopefully. He'd have to look into that.
He wandered down the hall and pulled at his hair with one hand and tried to rub the sleepiness from his eyes with the other.
“Hey Fri, Give me an update on Pete, will you?” As much as he knew that it was just a nightmare, he was still a little shook up about watching the kid disintegrate in his arms. So, it would be nice to have a little confirmation that he was still alive.
“Last I checked Peter is currently at his apartment in Queens. He finished his patrol before curfew and should currently be sleeping. I have not received any alerts that he might be in any danger.”
Tony nodded his head and rubbed his eyes. No matter how desperately he wanted to sleep he just couldn't do it right now. He entered his lab and collapsed into the chair near his desk.
“U-um. Call him. He might still be up. I need to talk to him.” His voice was shaky, his hands were shaking, and he was still drenched in his own sweat. What was wrong with him? It was just a stupid dream.
Not even 10 seconds later and Peter's groggy voice flowed through the speakers in the lab.
“Mr. Stark? Is something wrong?” Tony cursed at himself for waking up the poor boy. He put his needs before the kid’s needs, and that was unacceptable. What kind of terrible person is he for interrupting a growing boy from a restful sleep?
“Hey, kid. Nothing's wrong. Just checking in on you. Didn't hear from you today.” He hated the way his voice wavered slightly, and he could feel his chin begin to tremble. His eyes stung as he held back the oncoming tears, because Peter was fine. He was alive. He didn't fail him. Not yet.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered with so much empathy Tony almost burst into tears right then. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Tony didn't answer right away, because there was no need for the kid to worry about him. Peter needed to go back to sleep so he could go to school tomorrow and earn good grades. That way he could go to MIT and eventually take over SI. Tony couldn't get in the way of that. He couldn't stand in the way of this bright young boy.
“I'm fine Pete. Nothing you need to worry about. I just didn't realize what time it was when I called. Sorry for waking you up bud. Have fun at school tomorrow.”
He was about to tell FRIDAY to hang up the call, but the kid spoke up before he could. The kid had super senses even over the phone.
“You know, it's okay to have nightmares,” he rambled tiredly, “I have them all the time. Aunt May says it's just a way for our mind to process what we're scared of. You told me there's nothing to be ashamed of, so you shouldn't be ashamed that you have nightmares either Mr. Stark.”
Tony couldn't help but smile, because this kid was just too good to be true. He really didn't deserve him. Nobody deserves him.
“I know that kid. I just had a rough night. Why don't you come by after school and stay for the weekend? I'll ask your Aunt in the morning and make sure it's alright.”
That should put him at ease, and maybe he'll even get a little more sleep with him here. It was worth a shot. Plus, it would be nice to spend time with him before the whole hero worship thing wore off and the kid didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He might as well take it as he can.
“Sure Mr. Stark!” It made him smile a little bit to hear the excitable tone. At least Peter hasn't come to his senses yet. That gives Tony maybe a few more months before it all goes to crap.
“Oh! By the way. Pepper was totally right about MoMA. The field trip was awesome. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow!” Tony continued his smiling, because he really adored this kid. More than he should.
“Yeah, that sounds good kid. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Kay. G’night Mr. Stark. Love you.” Before Tony even had time to process what was said, the line went dead, and he was alone. All alone, with the silence encompassing him, but it didn't scare him. It didn't make him feel alone, because his kid said he loves him, and that makes him the happiest man in the world. Maybe it's good he got another chance at life.
“Y-yeah um… L-love you too.”