The sound of the world rushing through the slits in the reinforced window was the only reason Peter was managing to stay awake.

A brutal headache was coursing through him, making his eyes burn, and the blood flowing from his arm was showing no sign of slowing down. His heart was thumping abnormally hard, and his senses were going even more crazy than normal.

He could hear two other vans, driving on either side of the one he was in, holding the other soldier. Or agents. Or hitmen. Government people? Either way, they were bad guys. But Ross was in this van.

In fact, he was sitting directly in front of him, eyes drilling into Peter's. It was a cold hard staring competition of pure hate and loathing. And fascination, on Ross' part. All Peter was fascinated in was getting the hell out of here. The uncomfortableness of Ross' eyes roaming him, getting inside his head, reading his thoughts while the only noise was the soft humming of the van's engine, was almost too much. He considered attacking again, but he didn't want to get shocked. And a part of him was curious as to where they were going.

"You came a lot easier than I thought you would, Spider-Man." Ross broke the silence, making Peter's insides boil. Although, everything the old man said made him want to stuff his head down a toilet.

When Peter didn't answer, Ross smiled with a disappointed sigh.

"It's because I threatened your aunt's life, is it not?" The man asked, politely, almost as if he cared. "You really are quite like Stark. He would do anything to protect the people he lo—"

"You betrayed him." Peter croaked, his throat still raging from the shocks. But he furrowed his brow at the man sitting in front of him, blinking against the black dots vignetting his vision.

"Betrayed is a strong word, my boy," Ross replied, and Peter felt like throwing up at his last two words, "we were never truly allies. I merely picked the side I knew would win. These days, it's the Avengers against the world."

"No, the Avengers save the world. It's the Avengers against political freaks who think they know what the hell they're doing when really they don't, like you." Peter spat, anger rising up inside of him like a fast-tracking disease.

"Oh, I am no political freak, Peter. I am merely a cause to a revolution. A...greater life, one filled with m—"

"Insanity."

"—eaning and purpose." Ross ignored Peter dejectedly.

"You're a political freak, just admit it."

"The Avengers kill more people than they save!" Ross yelled, his face red with sudden rage. Peter reeled back slightly, surprised. "They don't save the world! They merely do the villain's work for them!"

Peter was silent for a moment. Partly because he was hit with a dizzy spell and it took a moment for him to gather his bearing, but mostly because he was realising something. It was dawning on him, what this rage could be. What it could only be.

"You lost someone." Peter whispered, face soft despite the fury and anxiety inside of him.

"My son, had to watch, as a building was crushed on his head. While Iron Man stood mere metres away from him, laughing with a goddamn wizard." Ross' eyes clouded with the memory, and Peter couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. Stuff you, emotion. Stuff you. "He was twelve." Ross' voice cracked, surprising Peter even more. There was a man under all that rage and insanity and power. There was a real man, under every villain's mask of pain.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, you're not!" Ross screamed. The van hit a bump on the road, causing Peter's head to hit the side of the door. He winced.

"This isn't the right way to deal with it. Okay?" Peter said slowly, trying to keep his voice as low and calm as possible. Maybe he could talk some sense into a clearly unhinged man. Maybe.

"Tony's lost people too, you know? Parents, friends. He had to watch the love of his life fall into fire and his best friend hit the ground from thousands of metres in the air." Peter reasoned, gripping a shaking hand over his bullet wound.

"He didn't love his parents." Ross snapped. Peter shrugged.

"That's what he says." Peter didn't know if that was true. But he would be willing to say anything, to try and keep Ross from going crazy on him. He didn't need to be more hurt than he already was. He just wanted May to be safe. He wanted Tony to save him.

"I lost people too." Peter stated, squeezing his lips together tightly. "My parents died in a plane crash, my uncle got shot and died because of me, my really close friend nearly died trying to protect me." His voice hitched, but he reminded himself that this was a distraction.

"There's nothing like losing a son, boy." Ross growled, making an animalistic noise in the back of his throat. He leapt forward then, grabbing the hand Peter was using to attempt to stem his blood flow. Peter let out a sharp cry as the older man twisted it in his grip.

His palm was facing upward, his elbow twisted the wrong way around. Ross was gripping Peter's wrist in a crushing grip, but the strength that had been sapped away by the shocks did nothing for Peter's favour. He struggled, trying to pull away, but couldn't.

He was so weak.

"So, I will make Stark feel the same pain I had to, realising my son was ever going to come home. I will make him cry with the agony, he won't be able to sleep. And, what's more," Ross grinned slyly, fingering the black remote in his hands, "your suffering will be his own doing. He will self-destruct."

"He won't. He doesn't care about me that much—" He hoped.

"Oh. But he does. And he will watch as I pull you apart." He's a madman.

"You'll only hurt me. You can't hurt him by hurting me." Peter almost pleaded that to be true. He knew it wasn't. But he wanted it to be. For both of their sakes.

"No." Ross' toothy smile returned.

Peter froze, feeling shivers down his spine. He hadn't expected Ross to believe him. Or, at least agree with him. Part of him hadn't wanted Ross to agree, because he wanted Mr Stark to care about him enough to be sad about his death. But his insecurities always told him otherwise.

"No, he won't have to watch you die. At least not to begin with," Ross added quickly, twisting Peter's arm even more, making the boy moan. "he will have to watch you fall apart, knowing it's his fault. He will have to watch you forget all that you hold dear. He will have to watch you kill, and that will kill him.

Unless you kill him first."

Peter's world seemed to slow to a halt.

Everything rushed through his ears into one big whoosh.

Nothing seemed to be working apart form the thoughts running through his brain.

Why would I kill him?

What does he mean?

What is he gonna do to me? Why will I kill him?

"What?" Peter gaped.

"You will kill Tony Stark. It's your legacy."

"You can't make me. You can't make me do that. You can't." Peter stuttered, the pain, fatigue, confusion and terror all colliding into one big coil of ugly desire.

"I won't make you." Ross let go of Peter's arm, holding the black remote up. Peter recoiled his arm against his chest, groaning. "You will do it willingly."

"I won't."

"Before long, you will want to kill Tony Stark."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, dread in every part of his being, but Ross was clicking the button on the remote and holding his finger there, holding it down and everything disappears as Peter's world turns into one of pain and torture and electricity and writhing and he doesn't want to-

Make it stop-

STOP-

Kill me, kill me, make it stop-

White hot, white hot pain-

There's nothing, nothing, nothing-

"I don't know if I should be proud or scared..."

Mr Stark, Tony-

Why would he kill Tony-?

Stop it! Make it stop-

Stop! STOP-

KILL ME-

Then everything's gone.

Forever.

...

"Two days."

Tony leaned into Pepper's shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. He was doing everything in his power to scream wordlessly into the heavens, crying because someone's taken his boy again.

"Two days and we still have no lead." He whispered, it physically hurting him to have to voice it out loud. Pepper hushed him, rubbing his back in circles, like it was supposed to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, Tony. I'm so sorry." Pepper murmured against his neck. He let his body go limp in her hold, arms gripping her to him like he never wanted to let go.

"What if he doesn't come back this time?" Tony asked, pulling out of the embrace as the thought struck him. "What if I can't bring him back this time?"

"No, don't think that. Don't think like that, Tony." Pepper pleaded.

"But-but he died last time and if I'd been a minute late he would've been lost, what if-what if I'm a minute too late this time? What if I never find him?"

"We'll find him—"

"You can't say that!" Tony exclaimed, unable to keep his breaths even. All the what ifs, what ifs, what ifs running through his mind were making sure of that. "You cannot say that, Pepper. Because what if he doesn't? I don't want to think that—"

"So, you're gonna live in fear—"

"That's not what I'm saying, Pep—"

"—and not hope? Isn't it better to have hope?"

Tony thought about that for a moment. The logical answer would be yes. Of course, it's better to live in hope than fear. He knew that Pep wanted him to say yes. But he couldn't. Not when Peter's life was at risk for the fiftieth time. What if Toomes had caught him again? What if his poor kid was being tortured again? Was he supposed to just sit on his couch watching sponge-bob, trying a little hope?

"No! No, it's really not." Tony replied eventually. Pepper shook her head at him, love in her eyes.

"Well, I have hope. And my hope is telling me we'll find him."

We'll find his body-

"Tony!" Pepper shouted.

Oh crap, had he said that out loud?

"Oh, I'm sorry Pepper, I didn't realise...I mean, I didn't want to-I'm just scar-look, that didn't come out the right way...well, it wasn't supposed to-to come out at-at all, but—" Tony stuttered, feeling terrible as Pepper's eyes filled up with unshed tears.

"Tony," She whispered, hiccupping, "just because I have hope, doesn't mean I don't love him, alright? I love Peter like he's my son, nothing will change that." She opened her mouth again, probably to say more, but Tony was enveloping her in a tight hug. She immediately reached her arms around his torso, and Tony ran a shaking hand softly through her hair, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Pep. I just don't want to lose him." Not again.

"You won't! Just trust me, okay? We won't lose him." Pepper's voice strained. "I know that. In my heart. I can feel him out there somewhere. Alive and fighting."

"Are you sure?" Tony whispered, breath hitching. "Please be sure." His voice cracked. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his wife (it still felt strange calling her that), admiration seeping into his worried mind. She was so brave. She was so, so brave.

Tony loved that about her. He needed that about her, because he had no bravery for himself.

He needed Peter too. He needed the innocence and the resilience. That kid had lost his mom and his dad, his uncle. He'd lost his life, he'd lost his love, he'd lost his mentor. Though, Tony had come back to Peter, because he realised he couldn't live without that kid. His kid. He didn't want to live without Peter. If Peter wasn't alive then he didn't want to live.

That's just how it was.

That same love he had for Pepper, he had for Peter. That same love he had for his team before half of them betrayed him, he had for Peter and more. Thanos' plan was to destroy half of the universe, but he'd only succeeded in destroying half of Tony's universe. Peter could never be the same after the war. So many unspeakable things had happened, that no one could walk away from. Tony had had to orchestrate some of those unspeakable things.

Maybe a bit of the trust Peter had put so faithfully in Tony had faded, which broke the older man. But Tony understood. What he'd had to do to save Peter's life was horrific – something no person should've had to have gone through. Especially a child. And what if he'd given up when Quill had told him to? What if he'd injected Peter, not realising the kid might have made it? But he'd had...

Hope...

He'd had hope then. But the newest hurdle the world has thrown at them has thrown Tony's head all over the place. He couldn't afford hope until he had confirmation. Not this time.

Call him dramatic, he knew—

"Stark?" A voice rang through Tony's thoughts at that moment, piercing it like a sharp knife to the flesh. Pepper jumped away from him, Tony doing the same. He spun around to see the source of the voice.

Steve.

"Are you watching the news?" Cap asked, from his position in the doorway into the lounge in which Pepper and Tony were standing.

"What? No, of course I'm not watching the bloody news—"

"Tony, maybe this isn't the right time..." Pepper murmured, gesturing at Steve's expression. Tony stopped talking at once, realising the super-soldier's eyes were stinging with tears and his face look tired and...dead? Was that the right word? Just damn over it.

"Fri, turn on the news." Tony demanded slowly, in a slightly questioning voice.

"Sure thing, sir!" Came the all-too cheery voice in reply. Steve's face crumbled even more as the screen behind Tony flickered to life, automatically switching through the different channels until the news was displayed on the screen.

Tony's heart stopped.

A bombing. A wreckage beyond hope, piles of smoking cement and burning wood scattered across the ripped-up earth. In the middle of Queen's, fire raging high into the air, crowds and crowds of people all surrounding the devastation. People crying, people screaming, people holding onto their loved ones, dead and alive. Everything slowed into a blur as Tony watched the horrific picture.

"Nearly a hundred people have gathered here today, loved ones of the lost lives..." came the voice of the news reporter, solemn and low.

Steve walked closer to Tony, making the billionaire tense.

The screen showed a shot of the mass devastation. There were at least three buildings that had been blown to pieces, and the small, motionless figures within the wreckage could only be the bodies of the victims.

"There's been no evidence of bombing, although officials are still working on the case..."

"What happened?" Pepper asked, voicing Tony's exact thoughts.

When Steve didn't answer, Tony let his confusion get the better of him. He spun around, grasping Steve by the collar of his shirt and shoving him into the wall. Even Tony wasn't entirely sure what had sparked his sudden attack, but he didn't care-

Maybe it was the pent-up feelings about Siberia that had never gotten out, that he'd kept hidden-

Maybe it's because he needed to let his emotion out-

Maybe it's because he was looking for a fight.

"Tony! What're you doing—?" Pepper began, afraid.

"What is this?" Tony hissed in Steve's ear, who was looking at Tony with a mixture of surprise and understanding.

"Stark, stop." Steve replied, not attempting to fight back. "St-Tony, I'm not the bad guy here, okay? You need to watch this." The ex-soldier's voice broke out into the smallest whimper you might ever hear. Tony blinked thickly, slowly letting go.

"What's—"

"And there's been three more confirmed deaths. One Mr Hutton, another one unidentified..."

Tony's brain stopped listening. He was already dialling from his watch for F.R.I.D.A.Y to bring him a suit. He and whoever was available had to save everyone there as soon as possible. That was the immediate danger. And as much as it killed him to even think it, Peter had to wait. Peter needed to wait. His heart ached.

"Alright, Pepper, Bucky and Nat are downstairs at the Centre – I need them ASAP. Steve, you think you could go on one last miss—?" Tony began, turning to Pepper-

Who wasn't listening.

Her eyes were as wide as saucers, glued to the screen. They were wobbling with tears, that slowly broke away and tipped down her cheeks. One of her hands were clutched to her chest and the other was pointing shakily at the television. Steve was looking at his feet, the shock and pain shown clearly on his face.

There was no noise in Tony's ears, no feeling in his legs, as his head turned like a rusty machine to look at the screen.

And suddenly he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, nothing else existed apart from that screen, the horror it showed. The indescribable agony it was pressing in on the sides of Tony's head, making his vision swim. His heart had surely stopped beating. There was surely nothing left but his cold, lifeless corpse, because this couldn't be happening.

The TV was blinking at him, flashing the names of the victims.

And the third victim. The one Tony had paid no heed to.

Was the one he loved the most.

The one he was nothing about,

And this isn't real, this isn't real.

Because this can't be happening. It shouldn't be happening.

He wanted to die. He didn't want this.

Why him? Why me? Why him?

NO, STOP, NO-

The world was dissolving in a whirlwind of grey colours-

And dull noises-

And he was dying-

Because

The name-

Parker, Peter.

-

Oh, what have I done?

I have nothing to say, but sorry and thank you.

Sorry for if you had to just read this, and thank you for just reading this. Please do not be mad with me. I love Peter. I really, really do.

This is not the end of the book, as you've probably guessed. 

TTFN, loves.

LuvForStydia xx