Something's Happening

Mind destructing, Agony Inside of Me.

My Pulse Is Racing

Mental Torture, Self-Destroyer.

Can't Ignore the Paranoia.

The same words, repeated.

Over and over again.

Never stopping.

Never ending.

Over and over and over and over—

"Again."

One word.

So much fear. So much agony.

More shocks. More brainwashing.

A step closer. Every time, a step closer.

Closer to nothing.

Nothingness was his fate.

Mental Torture, Self-Destroyer—

Something's Happening.

Mind Destructing, Agony Inside of Me.

My Pulse Is Racing.

Again and again.

Holding onto his life.

Holding on for dear life.

For his memories.

"Again."

The same cycle.

Over and over and over and over—

Can't Ignore the Paranoia.

A pause.

A moment to rest.

Then—

Something's Happening—

...

Tony knocked, body feeling numb.

"May?" He called out after a few moments of silence.

Still no reply. He felt dread settle in his stomach, and he knocked again. But, despite his efforts, he was only met with more silence.

With a sigh of both worry and resolve, his hand twisted the doorknob and he used his shoulder to shove it open. It creaked as the hinges were spun; like it hadn't been open in...maybe a week.

Ha, what a coincidence.

"Mrs Parker?" He asked again, quieter this time, as he wandered into the pitch-black apartment.

His heart was nearly bursting from his chest. Everywhere he looked, he saw Peter's life. Peter's home. Every single wall, floor, ceiling, piece of furniture – it used to Peter's home. God, the house even smelt like Peter, as creepy as that sounded.

And he wanted to cry, right then and there, but the small part of logic attached to his brain told him not to. If May was here, then his first impression shouldn't be him bawling his eyes out. That definitely wouldn't go well. No matter how much he didn't want to, he had to be strong for her.

After all, she was the last person he knew to ever see Peter. Maybe she knew something or noticed something, no one else did.

Maybe. Tony knew it was wishful thinking. But hey, what's a life without hope? One not worth living.

But, still, no one replied. He was only halfway down the long hall, and he had already walked past Peter's bedroom and the study. He'd made a point in not looking at Peter's door, or nothing would've stopped those stupid-ass tears.

He stopped at May's door, leaning his head against the wood, eyes narrowed. He waited and listened for any sign of life, heart doing weird flips in his stomach. But nothing. Not one sound.

And that's when he noticed the faint glow coming from the end of the corridor.

He hastened toward it, knowing it leads into the living room. The glow flickered as he paced down the rest of the hall; flashing white and then going back to the soft blue, before it disappeared for a moment, then returned, brighter than before.

"May?" He uttered, as he got to the end.

He blinked stupidly at the scene before his eyes, once he'd rounded the corner.

Because there May was, sitting on the two-seater sofa. The TV was on, the remote held in her shaking hand, and the channels were flicking every few seconds. Her eyes were glued to the screen, face blank and body still. And, in her other hand, was a bottle.

His stiff legs ached, as he forced himself to walk forward. His brain felt numb, especially when May didn't even turn to look at him. It was like he wasn't even there, but he knew she would've heard him calling her name. Either she was ignoring him or completely wasted.

He didn't know which he'd prefer.

He pulled in a sharp breath; "Uh, M-May? Hello?" He asked quietly, once he'd reached the couch.

She didn't even blink. Tony thought he saw the very edges of her lips tighten a bit, but he could've easily been imagining it. But the channels continued to flick between the Current Affairs and some Outback Truckers show. Tony swallowed down his rising panic.

He lowered himself onto the seat next to her, hesitantly reaching out a hand. With his arm outstretched, he squeezed his hand into a fist to try and stop the trembles that were coursing through them. Then, with a shaky sigh, he laid it on her shoulder.

And, finally;

"Get off." She whispered, throat raw.

"May, I—"

"Get off." She warned again, wrenching her eyes away from the screen to glare at him in fury.

He pulled his hand away, feeling like he'd been shocked. Never had he thought such a look could be possibly for someone as kind as May Parker. But the stare that was drilling right through him was evidence enough that maybe she wasn't as innocent as he first thought she was.

He tried again; "Hey, please—"

"What do you want, Stark?" May snapped, voice suddenly full of spite and such a venom that he thought for a moment that this wasn't May Parker and he'd walked right into a trap. "Huh? You want information? Do you want money? Pity? Because I have none of that." She growled, beer bottle gripped so tightly in her hand, Tony was afraid it might crack.

He gaped like a fish out of water at her, trying to figure out what to say. Yeah, he wanted information. And, by God, he knew she had some, despite her denial. In fact, her denial was the exact reason he knew she was lying. It was that way she said it; there was anger, definitely, and he couldn't blame her. But there was also fear, and no one got scared about telling the truth.

"Yes. And you're gonna give it to me," he demanded coldly

Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh, but Tony had a lot of experience with drunks. Especially violent ones. He used to be one. Sometimes all someone needs is to be told what's gonna happen, and not be given a choice about whether they'll comply or not.

At least, that was what his psychologist had told him. Whether it worked in real life, he didn't know, because he never used any of their strategies anyway.

But it did.

She spun her body around on the sofa to look at him properly. She blinked sluggishly up at him, looking slightly worried, slightly mad but mostly apologetic. She hesitated, opening her mouth, then shutting it again with a shake of her head.

Tony started again. "Alright, you listening to me?" He asked, his voice softer this time, but still with a hint of authority.

She nodded slowly, the worry growing slightly more obvious in her eyes. Tony sighed, nodding to himself in encouragement.

This is the right thing to do, this is the right thing to do—

"Peter," he began, voice cracking, "when was the last time you saw him?" He asked patiently, knowing the answer would be hard for her to remember, especially drunk.

But, he was surprised at how quickly she responded.

"I, uh...he was taken from me," she slurred, blinking down at her lap in confusion, "they took him away..."

Tony's heart seemed to do some weird thing, half way between stopping and going way too fast.

Not what he'd been expecting. He thought she'd reply with a "you know, breakfast just before he went to school" or something like that. But she said he was taken.

She was drunk, though. Right? And besides, she probably meant Ted or Fred or whatever his name is, came over and picked him up for a kiddie play-date or something. Not...

Not, like, kidnapped.

Right?

"What do you mean? Who took him?" He asked, concerned despite his calm thoughts.

She shook her head, breaths coming out too fast to be healthy. Tony immediately leapt into action, grabbing her forearms and forcing her to look at him. May's eyes searched his frantically, like she was looking for something, and answer probably. They searched, but they didn't find one.

Oh, May—

"'Kay, just breathe, yeah?" He said, raising his eyebrows at her, smelling the alcohol on her breath and trying not to notice the bile rising in his throat.

"Yeah," she replied vaguely, taking exaggerated breaths, in and out.

"Good," Tony nodded, being careful to blink his eyes rapidly so she wouldn't notice the wetness there. "Now, can you answer my questions?"

"Um...people with guns threatened me—Peter didn't want me to die," she elaborated, stumbling over her words.

Tony's eyes darkened. So, it was a kidnapping. His son was kidnapped before he died. He was scared before he died.

Oh, crap, had he said son?

"Who? Who was it?"

She frowned.

Looked at her wrist, picking at the hairs there.

Then her eyes lit up in fire.

And she looked straight back at him.

And, boy, was she fuming.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" He asked, suddenly feeling scared for his life. He felt himself slowly pushing himself up from his seat on the couch.

"Why'd you take him?" May spat, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Wh-what?" He asked, dumbfounded and terrified.

"Give him back! Give him back now!" She shouted, poison in her tone. He gulped audibly, taking a shaky step backward, away from May and toward the hall.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"What're you talking about?" He asked, watching her as she stood angrily to her feet. "May?" He pressed, when she didn't reply.

She only advanced on him, bottom lip trembling, causing Tony to stumble back a few more steps – nearly against the wall. Noticing his surrender, she halted her movement, tears in her eyes.

"What've you done with him?" May yelled, face red. "Give him back!" The Parker managed to scream even louder, and Tony cowered under her glare. If looks could kill, he'd be buried fifteen feet under the dirt hundreds of times over.

Actually, not funny—

"I-I don't have him!" He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Please, May, what do you m—"

"No, no, no! Give him back, you liar!" She screeched, raising her arm with the bottle in it offensively. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Tony realised what was going to happen before it did. He himself had been in many situations like this, Happy and Rhodey being the main victims of his lashes.

But the bottle hurtling toward him still gave him a shock. The beer spiralled through the air, splashing the floor and walls.

Tony dodged just in the nick of time, the glass cracking against the wall only centimetres away from his head, and shattering at the impact. He gasped in shock as the pieces clattered to the floorboards and smashing into more little pieces. Beer pooled around the broken glass, staining the ground a horrible brown.

May Parker had a mean throw, but when it was aimed at him? It wasn't as impressive.

He spun his head to stare at her, eyes wide in surprise. She was breathing heavily, arm still outstretched from where she'd thrown the bottle. She looked livid.

"Get out! Get out!" She screamed, pointing a finger at the hall that lead to the front door.

Tony nodded, holding his hands out in front of him in surrender. He couldn't speak; he couldn't trust himself to without showing May how much his voice was wavering. He took a step backward, into the entrance, eyes still transfixed on her inhumane face.

"GO!" She bellowed when he didn't get there fast enough.

He turned, then, and began walking swiftly to the door. One hand on the door handle, he heard her scream something that made his blood curdle and stomach to twist itself into sickening knots.

"You bring him back, Ross! YOU HEAR ME?" Was what May Parker screeched, as he wrenched open the door.

And oh, he wasn't going home. Not yet.

He had a rat to catch.

--

woah, okay! so this was basically just a filler chapter, but now Tony's found out about Ross...pity he doesn't realise Peter's still alive.

so, now he's gonna go and have a friendly little chat to him about hURTING HIS SON--

anywayssss, i hope you enjoyed. i feel like i've been pretty good with updating recently, so be grateful while it lasts XD

love youse all, have a good one :)

LuvForStydia xx