My Kid

(Don't read this if you plan to see Infinity War and have not yet. I found some of the events of the movie to be lacking in emotion. For me, this version is more emotionally gratifying.)

Chaos. That's all it was. It was dizzying. Thano's army, descended on them. Deafening explosions split the air. Shouts from comrades cried out over the din. Friday was screaming in his ears. He smashed into a boulder, sent flying by one of the aliens. The suit buckled and he felt the impact in his gut and bones. Already he knew he was hurt. Friday was telling him, but he ignored it. He pushed himself up, same as always, and flew back toward the others.

Already something was off with the suit's power. He couldn't fly normally, jerking around, barely making it to his destination. His fist made contact with the alien's head and Tony snapped his left arm down, activating a lance like sword to replace his hand. He stabbed the alien in the gut and then twisted it. The alien writhed and shrieked. Tony sent it flying from him with a burst of energy. From the corner of his eye he saw the kid swinging agilely, covering an alien's face with web. He caught his eye but then the air exploded all around them. Tony spiralled out of control, having no idea which way is up or down, frozen, until he smashed into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him. What the hell was that? Disoriented, he sat up and spotted Quill taking out an alien with his guns, most likely the one that triggered the bomb. Stephen Strange pulled open other dimension portals...with magic, swallowing up enemies and locking them out before they could escape. The one called Drax looked virtually indestructible, smashing aliens aside like the Hulk with no armor. But where was Spiderman?

Craning his neck he finally spotted a figure on the ground, and he his breath caught. Somehow, he managed to activate the jets again, and flew over to where Peter's crumpled form was lying.

"Damage?" He shouted to Friday and she scanned him.

"Multiple contusions, suit breach to the left side, heartbeat detected," she said in her robot monotone. Tony pushed up his own mask up and gently shook the kid the way you should never shake an injured person.

"Pete?" he said urgently. He pulled off Peter's cloth mask. Don't be dead. God no. Please god. "Pete!" he shouted, his heart starting to race. There was a faint cough and Peter opened his eyes, dazed. "Kid," Tony moaned, relieved he was awake.

"Mr. Stark?" He asked in a small weak voice. Too weak. Tony scooped him up and flew him away from the battle. He soared about a mile away then landed and set him down gently on the ground on his back. The others already had the upper hand at this point. It would be a win for them. Tony felt the kid's cloth suit and his Iron Man suit fingertips came away damp with blood. Peter cringed in pain and Tony quickly emerged from the Iron Man suit, not wanting to hurt him with it.

"What happened?" he asked and it took Peter what felt like forever to answer. He gripped his shoulder and finally Peter spoke.

"Alien had this sword-thing. I didn't see it. I was flying, and then I felt this flash of heat, and then I started bleeding. I fell and couldn't get up…" he trailed away, voice fading.

"Ok, no biggie," said Tony, lying immediately. "No big. I'm going to put some pressure on it okay?" He said and then gritted his teeth in anticipation. The wound looked bad, deep and was dripping blood steadily. He made a compress with his hands and pressed down on the wound. Peter predictably screamed. He tried to writhe away from him, but the movements were weak. Tony cringed. It was gut wrenching, hearing him yell like that. It grated at his eardrums, and made his heart race to a sprint. He felt a panic attack coming on.

"God, I'm sorry buddy. But I've got to," He said pressing harder and feeling the warmth of his blood under his hands. His stomach squirmed and he knew this was majorly bad. Peter screamed again as no, no, no beat the inside of Tony's brain to the tempo of his heart. He was doing the math, even though he tried not to.

"S..top, please," Peter managed. Tony shut his eyes and didn't let up. His composure was slipping. Peter reached up and grabbed Tony's hands and tried to push him away, but it was hard to believe he was really trying.

"Pete, it's okay, you'll be okay," he managed in a poor bedside manner voice. He had no experience with this. Peter gasped like a fish out of water and it made Tony sick to watch. How much blood had he lost? He used the Iron Man arm to attach a clotting agent to the wound site, holding Peter still firmly with the other arm. He didn't know what else to do after he clotted the wound. He wiped his bloody hands on his pants and gently felt Peter's arms and chest. "Anything else hurt or broken?" he asked him urgently. Peter seemed to be drifting, losing lucidity. "Hey, Pete, stick with me bud, does it hurt anywhere else?" he asked sharply, checking his legs.

"No...no I'm fine.." he said faintly; and it was so far from the truth. Tony noticed he was shaking; was he cold? He reached up and grabbed his shoulder again, a comforting gesture. He was soaked in sweat and really was shaking. It was more like a convulsion. God no. Christ. An internal bleed. Tony covered his mouth with he free hand, holding back a scream and turned his face away; hiding his tortured expression. This was not happening. He was dying. The kid was fucking dying. Tony did scream, a strangled cry of desperation, but cut it off, because the kid gasped. He looked scared. Tony had to be the adult.

"Stay with me kid.." he said then cleared his throat. He sounded much much worse. And he couldn't see because his eyes were tearing. He willed himself to stop but couldn't; he needed to stop, he was scaring the kid. Reality was settling in and he knew Peter wouldn't make it.

"M..Mr. Stark, tell Mae I…" he tried to start, but barely got the words out, choking a little.

"No goddamn it!" he exploded, feeling something shatter and break in him. It felt like madness. Utter and total madness. The kid couldn't be dying. He had his whole life ahead of him. Tony's gaze zeroed in on him and it was tunnel vision. He shook with grief, losing his grip on composure. The kid knew it. It was on his face; the knowledge of his death. He weakly lifted his arms to Tony, and he felt sick. He was a kid; a fucking baby. "Pete," he moaned, not able to talk, or plead, or fight anymore. Peter's gesture made him feel a rush of what slowly had been building for months now. This wasn't just a kid. It felt like his kid. Without pause he pulled him into a hug, comfort being the last gift he could give to what felt like the closest thing he ever had to a son. Tony shook and wept. The kid shook too, but from his wounds.

"I'm not sorry," Peter managed. "This is what I wanted," Tony heard him and felt it when Peter finally started crying into his shoulder. He just couldn't bear this. Not for one moment. Never. He gasped and cried too. He processed that he was saying goodbye to him and gasped, choking, shaking his head, unable to accept it. He heard him crying, most likely in terror, and couldn't let him be this afraid, it wasn't fair. He deserved more. He managed to make his frozen body rock him slightly. He had to be the adult. Peter needed him, more now than he ever had before.

"It's okay, I've got you," he croaked, trying to sound soothing and not quite managing it.

"I don't want to go.." he sobbed and Tony thought he'd die from just hearing this. He clenched his eyes shut; it was unbearable.

"Shh..I've got you; I'm here" he repeated, tears in his voice, and put a hand behind his head, supporting it. Peter was hugging him but his grip was fading. Say it, you'll regret it, a voice echoed in him. A voice similar to his mother's. "I love you, like you were my kid," he said, words never spoken before. He knew Peter heard him, because he managed to hug him tighter.

"Mr..Stark..I.." he said but then he froze up, convulsing once. There was a gasp, a pained breath, and then nothing. Just dead weight. Nothing at all, and Tony knew he was gone.

"No…" he wept, tears blinding him. "No..no.." he laid him gently back down. His eyes were shut, tears on his bloody face. He wasn't breathing. Desperately, he used the suit to try and shock him back to life. He screamed, his voice strangled. He felt pain in his throat from it. Peter didn't revive. He didn't have a pulse. "P..Peter.." he cried burying his face in his arms on his chest, he let go, not holding anything back now. He was dead. He couldn't call him back. "You...we're supposed to live.." he pleaded. "God...no..jesus..no." His stomach lurched and he flinched away, throwing up. He shook uncontrollably, in utter shock, struggling to breathe.

He managed to get his suit back on him eventually, and lifted Peter in his shaking arms. It was his fault. He killed him. This was hell. His hell. He stood and flew him back to the others, cradling him to his chest. His eyes streamed silently, he was numb with shock. He crashed to the ground, losing control but protecting Peter from impact. The fight was over. Stephen saw him and dashed over.

"Is he…" he breathed and all Tony could do was cry silently. Cry and nod his head. He closed his eyes and wished he could trade places with him. Anything. Stephen kneeled next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Tony weakly tried to pull away but Stephen held him fast. "I'm so sorry Tony," he spoke gently.

"I killed him. It's my fault," he moaned, brokenly. Stephen shook his head but said nothing, knowing nothing was best. They didn't have the time stone. This was something that couldn't be undone. They sat this way as the sun on this planet steadily rose. Its light fell on them, warming them, painting the landscape gold and red. The light reflected off of Peter's suit. And they just sat. All Tony could do was stare. And exist. He had no will or energy to do anything else. Not now. Not ever. The cost was too much. He couldn't go on. He blinked, mind frozen in free-fall.

"We have to go," Quill spoke softly from behind them suddenly. Tony didn't know how long he had been standing there. He looked back at him and saw his sobered expression. Stephen switched from a kneel to a crouch and used his magic to lift him up. He lifted Peter up too but Tony wanted to carry him. He took him into his arms with extreme care and carried him to the ship, no longer able to cry. He was hollow. Tears had glazed his face and his eyes burned raw from the salt. He sniffed, and boarded the ship. Mantis appeared next to him and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. She started crying, feeling his aching pain and sadness. A moment later, the pain that choked Tony cut back slightly. He felt comforted. Still broken hearted, but a little stronger. Carefully he laid Peter on the ground, safely tucked away. He touched his cheek, unable to process his overwhelming guilt and grief.

"Thanos killed my wife and daughter right in front of me," Drax spoke quietly from behind him. "I know your pain," he said and Tony turned to make eye contact with him. He nodded to him in solidarity. Tony fell into a chair, slipping out of the Iron Man suit and caught his head in his hands. "I'm sorry for your loss," Drax said and continued on to his seat to strap himself in. Mantis settled next to Tony and put her arm around his shoulders, comforting him. The contact helped him hold on; to feel some strength. He closed his eyes and replayed past conversations with Peter, hearing his voice clearly in his head. Seeing his eyes light with excitement. They had to kill Thanos. Because Peter had to be avenged. His death was too high a cost. Thanos would pay, even if it meant dying himself; Tony didn't care. They had to. He had to. For Peter. This he promised him. It was the only thing left he could do for him.

"Peter," he whispered, and the ship shuddered to life. They lifted off the planet's surface. And Tony felt himself flying.