Peter and Tony One Shots

The Second Year

Peter Parker-Stark had had his fair share of trauma, that was for sure. It was to be expected, of course, as the son of the infamous Iron Man and nephew to all of the superheroes associated with his father. Peter had grown used to it and, over time, he'd adapted. He now knew his coping mechanisms and he was seventeen years old, no longer a kid in need of a bedtime story in order to get him to sleep.
What Peter didn't know yet, however, was that trauma could resurface. And, sometimes, it could be just as bad as before...
Peter sat at the table, tucking into his cereal and humming under his breath. "Morning," his Uncle Bucky greeted him as he strolled into the kitchen. "Morning, you alright?" Bucky nodded and poured himself some coffee before joining his nephew at the table. "Any plans for today?" He asked yawning, clearly the coffee hadn't kicked in just yet. "I'm heading to the library in a bit, I'm going to try and get some work done before finals tomorrow."
"Good plan. I'll let the others know when they wake up." Peter nodded, took his bowl to the sink and grabbed his bag. He wasn't planning on being out very long, just a bit of last minute revision.
As he headed towards the city library, he suddenly saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. The hairs on his neck stood up and his senses began to tingle. He looked around wildly, trying to assess the threat. Then, he saw her. A little girl, no more than six, was crying on the pavement. She had brunette curls that had been tied back into a ponytail, but the similarity was uncanny. As Peter looked at her, his mind was forced back in time, the memories all unlocked. He felt as if he had been forced back a year in time. Back to the day when there had been a little girl trapped in a collapsing building, and he couldn't save her...
Peter's heart rate began to dangerously accelerate and his mind was racing. "Breathe. It's been a year. It isn't real. You're imagining it. This little girl is safe. She is not in danger. She does not need saving. It wasn't your fault last year when that other girl died. No one could have done anything." He repeated over and over to himself, under his breath, sternly.
The girl's parents hurried over to her and he overheard the mother say, "goodness, Julia! Don't run away from us! There, there, sweetheart, it's alright now."
Without pausing to do anything else, Peter turned around and headed back home to arrange his thoughts. Thankfully, he didn't pass any Avengers on the way to his bedroom, so he could afford to be alone a little longer.
Once in his room he sat on the bed and he allowed the memories to come flooding back to him...
Swinging towards the building, he took a middle aged women, from floor ten, under his arm and placed her gently on the ground. "Nice one, kid." His dad praised and he beamed. The building began to shudder and lurch as Peter watched on in awe, thankful he'd managed to get everyone out of the office in time. All of a sudden, the middle aged woman started screaming a name repeatedly, tears streaking her face. "Clarissa! Clarissa!" She yelled, sobs wracked her entire body. Peter immediately headed towards her, demanding to know the problem so that he could fix it. "My daughter! She's only four! She's still in the building!" She screamed at him and Peter felt his heart drop.
Automatically prepared to go in to search for the girl, Peter shot his web fluid at the top of the building. Before he could take off from the ground, however, Tony grabbed his arm just as the building collapsed into ruins before their eyes.
Peter was still trembling with fear as he resurfaced, visibly sweating. Getting shakily to his feet, he headed into his bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. As he did so, he heard someone yell, "dinner!" Confused, he grabbed his phone and saw that the day had already passed and it was nearly eight pm. He'd spent the whole day thinking about Clarissa.
     "Pass the potatoes," Clint asked, a cheery smile on his face as Peter entered the room.
"Say please." Nat teased with a mischievous smile, handing her best friend the bowl of steaming new potatoes. "Peter! Come, sit!" Peter, without saying a word, resumed his seat at the table and tucked into his meal. He couldn't eat much before he started pushing the food around his plate, his mind kept wandering back to the little girl and he no longer had an appetite.
"What did you think of the game today, Buck, did you watch it?" He heard his Uncle Steve mention something about the baseball game that was on television the previous afternoon. "God, the team was shocking! The whole dynamic has collapsed under the new manager, Jones. It's a shame, really, they would have done better if they hadn't traded Watson last summer." The conversation began to filter towards the sport, but Peter could only latch onto one word: collapse. The familiar sinking feeling in his stomach forced him to inhale sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut. It's not real. Everything's ok. I'm at home, I'm home. He told himself again and again.
     "You alright, Pete?" His Uncle Bruce had been the only one who had noticed his sharp change in expression. Peter nodded painfully. He didn't want anyone to worry, he was bad enough last year when the event occurred. It didn't make sense for him to be upset about it all over again.
"Yep, I'm fine, food just went down the wrong way that's all." He lied boldly. Bruce seemed to buy it, however, and soon the conversation turned towards Peter. "How did studying go this morning, Pete?" Bucky asked him and Peter shrugged.
"It was ok. The library wasn't very busy." In fairness, he knew that on a Sunday the library wasn't usually busy, so it was really a white lie.
"Surprised the library is still open, that building must be ancient by now." Tony joked but Peter couldn't take anymore. Every word reminded him of Clarissa, the girl he couldn't save.
     "Guys, I actually don't feel very well. I'm going to go lie down." He excused himself very swiftly and headed into the lounge. He was exhausted but every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was Clarissa's mother sobbing and begging him to help. As his head hit the pillow on the couch, he fell asleep, much to his gratitude.
"Peter! Look out! The building's falling!"
"I have to go back in. My dad's in there, there's civilians in there!"
As Peter swung into the lobby of the building, the walls began to crumble around him. "Dad! Dad! Help! Help! Clarissa! Dad!"
Waking up with a start, the nightmare still burning, Peter choked back sobs. "Peter?" Tony questioned, his worried face gazing down at his son's. "You were yelling for me. You were yelling for help. You were yelling for Clarissa. What's going on, Peter?"
     And so, with a heavy heart, Peter explained the events of the day to his family. "I'm just so annoyed with myself," he finished at last. "I feel like all the healing I did over the past year to get over my failure has been for nothing! I'm back where I was a year ago!"
Bruce shook his head at the teenager slightly. "Peter, what you're feeling is totally normal. It's a valid trauma response. Healing doesn't happen overnight. It doesn't make you weak to have setbacks."
Peter nodded, slowly, and tried his best to muster a smile. "You don't have to put on a brave face in front of us, kiddo." Tony added, giving his son a comforting hug.
"Yeah, Peter, we're your family. You don't have to be brave anywhere, least of all in front of us." Natasha chipped in with a smile.
     "Thank you, guys." Peter looked around at his family members and realised they were right. Everyone goes through trauma at some point and everyone will get through it, they just need the right sort of people to pick them up again when they stumble. People like the Avengers. People like family...