Irondad and Spiderson

The Arc Reactor Isn't the Only Hole in My Chest Anymore

“Do we have a signal to find Tony?” Natasha’s voice, while she tries to keep the concern from it, still edges on worry. Everything has been silent in the quinjet for the past three hours. The eight hours before then were silent too, other than the occasional cough or rustle of clothing.
Yes, the Avengers were on their most important mission yet: find Tony Stark, save his life (which is probably being threatened by some crazy madman), and bring him home. The only problem was that when Tony wanted to disappear, he really knew how to go off the grid. They tried tracking him, Pepper, and even that kid that Tony was always gushing about. Nothing. It was if Tony Stark has ceased to exist for the past few months.
“Of course we don’t.” Steve Rogers’ voice is high-strung, but then again, his entire figure is. He feels as if his skin is pulled taut around his bones, allowing the nerves to bounce around his body freely. The people in the ship know nothing about what they’re doing. They would have found Tony in two minutes if he had been here.
“Steve, maybe it’s time for you to-” Bruce starts a weak sentence before Steve slams his fist against the arm of the seat.
“I’ll rest once we find him!” His raised voice hangs in the air like a threat, and everything falls silent once more.
“Incoming call, Captain Rogers.” Natasha says. Her voice is thin, which matches the angry line her mouth makes. She only calls him Captain Rogers when she’s in a really good mood or mad at him. Steve is betting that it’s the latter.
“Just take it.” He grumbles. He’s being insensitive to his friends, sure, but there’s a gnawing feeling of worry continuing to creep up. They can all feel it. The thought that their team member--their friend--may never come back from whatever sticky situation he got himself into this time.
“It’s Pepper.” Natasha half screams, after listening to the quick voice on the other line.
“Put her on speaker.” Steve says, already reaching for the button on the dashboard.
“Hello? Natasha?” Pepper’s worried voice carries a hint of hysteria.
“Yes, we’re all here, Pepper. What’s going on?” Steve calls into the jet.
“It’s Tony. He left a few hours ago, back when it was dark. It’s mid-morning and he still hasn’t come back. I’ve called his cell, I’ve tried to talk to FRIDAY, I’ve even tried Peter’s Aunt May. None of them will call me. I’m sure that something bad has happened to him and Peter?”
Peter? Steve mouths to the rest of the group.
“His kid.” Three of them say in unison.
“Wait, where are you guys?” Bruce says nervously. They were currently flying over Switzerland. What if Tony was in another country, across the world?
“Milan.” Comes Pepper’s reply. It’s as if the angels above parted heaven to allow gleaming hope into the Avenger’s lives. Milan is barely a ten minute flight from where they are, if Steve hits the throttle. As if he read all their minds collectively, Steve pushes the lever on the jet and they shoot towards their new destination.
**********
Tony lays on the ground, wavering between the thin line of death and life. The blood loss is making his arms feel heavy and his eyes like they weigh more than eight tons. He doesn’t honestly know why he’s prolonging his death. He knows that in just a few minutes, they’re going to slip closed, and he’s going to skip across the light and into the afterlife.
But there’s a biting feeling, gnawing on the edge of his mind, that he needs to stay awake as long as possible. Like something is going to happen.
“Oh, Tony Stark.” The man sits in front of him, staring at the genius clinging so desperately to life. “I don’t know why you fight.” Tony wants to make a remark, say something to him, but his brain is hardly working well enough to conjure a thought, let alone words or a facial expression.
“To think that you sacrificed yourself for a kid. An insignificant, worthless kid. I bet you that he’ll be dead in the parking lot in just a few minutes.”
Tony wants to scream. To miraculously make a recovery for the sole purpose of slapping the life out of this man. But, that won’t happen. He’s accepted his fate. But something catches his brain, and suddenly, the energy spent fighting is moved to make a thought. A horrible, sinking thought that brings Tony’s already weak breathing to a standstill. The man notices this, and with a smirk, says, “Oh, we said we would never hurt him. But we never said anything about driving him to hurt himself.”
Oh. Oh, God, no.
“Is that surprising, Mr. Stark?” The man laughs gleefully. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘you are made up with the pieces from the people around you’? Peter was around you quite a lot, maybe he picked up some of your… darker tendencies.” He grins sadistically down at Tony. “I’m sure that’s how the papers will spin it. Ah, I can see the headlines now: ‘Dead Genius’ Kidnapped Son is Driven to Suicide by His Pretend Father’. It has a bit of a ring to it, don’t you think?”
Tony decides that once he comes back to life as a ghost, he’s going to haunt the everloving crap out of this horrible man. Blood dripping down the walls, dead animals on his doorstep, the whole nine yards.
He stares at the man, his will to live now fueled with rage and livid, molten hate. He’s so close to being able to say something, but something stops him dead in his tracks. A gunshot, loud, angry, and carrying the aching feeling of death, rings through the strange basement and into the large room.
“Goodbye, Spiderman.” The man bows his head in a mock-mourning fashion, before turning to Tony Stark. “You can leave now. Be with your precious son.”
And then, just like that, Tony’s world crashes around him.
Everything goes silent, besides a faintly annoying ringing. His heart hammers blood through his ears and shrill screams jump through his mind, one after the other. The air around him is thick, filled with the metallic and bitter taste of fear. The ache in his chest is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain of his shoulder and leg melt away, replaced by the bigger, worse pain of his heart.
Peter’s smiling, innocent face surfaces to his brain. He screams again. He’s not sure if the screams are just in his head or if they’re emitting from his throat. Either way, his throat is on fire, being torn to shreds with emotion. A wild animal bounds happily through his body, tearing and destroying every centimeter of skin that it can find to maul.
Suddenly, it’s not important to live anymore. But Tony can’t muster the will to close his eyes. All that he can feel is the pain, the love, the months and months of searching, protecting, fighting, and the one person he would go to the end of the universe and back for is gone. Dead because of a bullet and his influence.
His influence. God, if he had just been better, if he hadn’t acted so… himself around Peter, maybe Peter would still be happy. Peter would still be alive. A noise escapes his mouth between a groan and a whimper. The man stares at him, his expression enthralled with the scene in front of him.
Tears, sweat, emotion and grief all pool in Tony’s eyes, begging them to close. All he wants to do is die, to be with his kid. The sooner it’s all over, the sooner he can hold Peter in his arms, kiss his head, and whisper apologies into his ear.
Suddenly, loud voices break the silence above. Yelling, more gunshots, the slamming of something heavy against metal. And then the pattering of hysteric footsteps down a ladder and into the room. Another bullet, perfectly placed, flies through the air and lodges in the back of the man. His eyes lose light immediately, and a spray of blood covers Tony in tiny dots. It’s everywhere; his eyes, nose, mouth, choking him and mixing with his own blood.
“Tony!” A voice. A voice that he recognizes. His eyes shoot open, and he’s staring into the face of Bruce Banner. The apologetic face. His mouth is moving, silent words that Tony doesn’t care to hear escape his friend’s lips. He pulls out a pen, and a cold liquid is sprayed over the wounds. The blood stops flowing, but Tony doesn’t care.
Why are they here? Why couldn’t they just let him die in peace?
They put him on a stretcher, carrying him from the room. The air is alight with the fire of excitement. His friends are so happy to see him, despite his bloody, grotesque state. They’re relieved to find him; shaken, near-dead, but alive.
The entire time he is mumbling to them, begging them to leave him behind. He begs them, at the very least, to find Peter and bring him along. Tears slip from his eyes and soak the thick cloth underneath him, but he can’t muster the strength to move. Nothing matters anymore. Emotions are pointless when all you can feel is numbness, when breathing becomes a chore, and every second just brings more pain to choke your broken heart.
    The hole where the arc reactor comfortably sits isn’t the only gaping hole in his chest anymore.
They carry him up the ramp of the jet. They put him on the floor, but Tony refuses. He musters all the energy in the world. He doesn’t need to think, or to speak, or to breathe. He just needs that energy to see Peter.
The very last dregs of his energy push him towards the edge of the ramp, where he has a clear view of the car that Peter came here in. The windshield is spattered in dark red blood, dripping down onto the dashboard of the car. He can’t see inside, but something powerful overtakes him. He has to get to that car. To save Peter. If he is required to survive, he at least needs to save his son.
“Tony, it’s time to get on the plane.” Steve grabs his friend’s arm, tries to ease him back into the gurney.
“Nuh!” Tony slurs. His voice is unrecognizable, the look in eyes comparable to that of a madman. “Gut tuh th cur.”
“The car?” Steve’s head turns to look at the car before his eyes widen. “You came here with the kid… didn’t you?” His stomach sinks lower in his stomach with each word. Oh, God.
“Gut hum.” Tony’s head hits the ground with the effort. Steve just nods, before walking slowly to the car. Truth is, he doesn’t know what he’s going to see when he opens the car, and he doesn’t know if any of them can bear to see the cause of Tony’s constant euphoria dead.
It’s too much, but Tony watches Steve pull a limp Peter from the car after punching through the window. Peter is covered in blood, all across the front of his shirt. His face is masked in it, covering every inch of his skin. It’s even caught in his hair, slicking it back and sticking random pieces to the scalp below. Despite the red stain shadowing his features,  Peter look peaceful, almost as if he’s asleep.
“Tony, lay in the bed now.” Steve carries Peter in his arms and firmly brings Tony back to the makeshift bed. He gently places Peter beside him, and Tony reaches a hand down and entwines his fingers with Peter’s. Tony’s eyes close a second later, and Banner goes to work cleaning his wounds and stitching him up.
“He’s going to live.” Bruce says a few minutes later.
“What about the kid?” Steve prepares for the worst.
“I didn’t get the chance to check him out yet.” Bruce looks guilty as he says it. “...Should I?”
“I think it would be better for Tony if you did.” Steve nods. Bruce matches the nod, quickly checking him over. After a second, he looks back at his friends, his mouth dropping open in shock.
“What? What is it?” Steve’s breathing starts to increase rapidly. Is it really that bad?
“The kid… he’s… it’s impossible...”
“What? What is it?” Steve says.
“He’s… I don’t believe it… He’s… alive.”

/AN/ You didn’t really think I was going to kill my baby boy, Peter, did you? I’ll be able to explain what all went down in the next chapter or so, but I, for one, am excitedly waiting for the reunion between Tony and Peter…
Also, happy birthday @captain_killian100 ! It’s past midnight here, but I hope it’s still in the same day for you and you see this really soon! I’m so sorry I didn’t get it in earlier, but I had to work all day (blegh). Also, I can’t believe I made it to 100k views!! AHHHHH! It’s like a dream come true. My entire life, I’ve loved writing, and now to have people so invested in it and interested in something that I wrote purely for fun… I’ll never be able to accurately describe the influence it has had on my life. Thank you all so so so much. /AN/