Pepper was awake and sitting up in the bed when they wheeled Tony's bed in several hours after she'd woken up to find Ned keeping her company. He lifted a hand in greeting, but was silent as the nursing staff settled his bed close to her, made sure all of the IV lines were clear, double checked the rest of the monitors and then told them both that someone would be by to check on them in a few hours, and made certain the call buttons were close at hand if they were needed.
"Did you see him?" she asked as the last nurse closed the door behind him.
Stark nodded, pulling the IV from his forearm and slowly and painfully sliding out of his bed and moving over to hers. Pepper shifted, also eliciting a pained noise at the movement, but giving him room to join her in her bed, which he did.
"They brought him in right after his surgery," Tony told her, gathering her into his arms once he'd put the side rail up – just to make sure he didn't fall out of her bed. "Stephen told me that there were a lot of little pieces of shrapnel from the bullet that he had to clear out. He says he got them all. Now it's just a matter of him healing. Which we know he does quickly."
She put her cheek against his chest.
"He's going to be okay, though, right?"
"He's going to be fine, momma," Tony assured her, resting his chin on her head, and brushing his fingers through her hair. "You'll see. He'll be out of bed and bugging us about driving himself to the next competition before you know it."
"Which we'll let him…?"
"He did everything right, this time," Stark pointed out. "It's not his fault that someone he had nothing to do with got greedy and tried to overthrow a kingdom he's never even heard of."
"I know." She sighed. Closing her eyes, relieved to have him with her and wishing that Peter was there, too, stuck between them where they could make sure nothing could hurt him and could remind him with a touch that they loved him and that they were there for him. "T'Challa's alright?" she asked, sleepily, the pain medication that the doctors had given her finally being allowed to relax her.
Or maybe it was just the fact that he was with her, holding her.
"Yeah. They'll keep him a couple of days – just to make sure he can travel – but he's awake and talking."
"Shuri wasn't hurt?"
"No. Go to sleep, Pep," he told her, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. "If anyone comes, I'll wake you."
She didn't argue, and he felt her fall asleep in his arms. It took him a lot longer, but he was just as wiped out, and he eventually dozed off as well.
OOOOO
"You're Stark's boy, right?"
"Yeah."
Never had he been happier to be able to say yes to something. It took him a while – probably longer than was necessary, but he'd come to embrace the fact that Tony wanted him. That Tony had accepted him, embraced him and had done everything short of writing it on his hand that he loved Peter and wanted to step into the role of father for him.
Peter had been so long without a dad that it had been scary to allow that role to be filled, again. He knew from experience that when he loved someone, they left him, and he didn't want that to happen. But he had done it. He'd given himself to Tony Stark wholeheartedly and wallowed in the love that he received in return for that.
Even more, he'd done the same with Pepper, and had even tried out a word that he couldn't remember ever having used before in his young life. Mom. A small word that was so profound for him it had taken even longer for him to use it than it had for him to call Tony dad.
But he'd done it.
He was Stark's boy, yes. And Pepper's. He loved them to his core, and knew that they loved him, and that love was a risk that they were willing to take with him.
"He's dead. They're both dead. Blown to hell so I can take over Wakanda."
"You're lying."
He wanted to believe that. The man was just trying to find a way to hurt him. Wanted to believe that the universe wouldn't do that to him again. Wouldn't give him parents who loved him, put him in a situation where he finally had everything that he wanted, and then pull that rug out from under his feet and allow him to be wounded, once more, in the cruelest of ways.
He wanted to believe it, but it had happened to him, and he knew the universe didn't play favorites. If it could happen once – and it had – then it could happen to him again. And it had.
They were dead, and he was going to be alone, again.
"They're dead, kid…"
"I know."
"I killed them."
Grief and agony tore through him, causing a far greater hurt than the ache that came with moving as he tried to escape that awful reality.
He should hide from that.
Where?
"Peter…"
He felt hands on him. First on his hand, prying his fist open. Then holding him. Felt a gentle crooning in his mind. Someone was touching his face, trying to soothe him. Holding him down. Weighing him down completely.
"They're dead."
"No, they're not."
"I'm alone, again."
"Peter."
"No… Please… I can't do it. Not again."
"They're dead, kid. You'll have to go on without them."
"I can't."
He'd done it once. Done it twice, really, and that was enough trying for anyone. Maybe he didn't have the strength or the will to go on trying, again.
"They're not dead, Peter," a voice told him, firmly, hands holding his face, tenderly. "I promise."
"He said they were."
"I know, baby. But he lied."
"I never lie, boy. T'Challa is dead, blown to hell, and your mom and dad are, too."
OOOOOOO
They were both awake when Strange entered their room, followed by two nurses – both pushing wheelchairs. Still in the same bed, instead of being apart. They'd napped off and on for the last several hours, holding each other while they waited for news. They needed that contact. Tony waited to be told to move so he could argue, but that command never came.
"I need you," Strange told them. "Both of you."
"What is it?" Tony asked, immediately easing himself out of the bed and wincing.
"It's Peter."
Of course it was. He'd never have allowed either of them out of bed for any other reason. Not so soon after putting them into the bed in the first place.
"What's wrong?" Pepper asked, allowing herself to be eased from the bed and into a chair, watching as they did the same with Tony, but also watching Stephen, worried.
"He's delirious and we can't get him calmed down."
"You've given him something?"
"He's burning through it faster than we can safely administer it," Strange told them. "He seems to be convinced that you two are dead, and nothing we tell him is helping. Natasha has already pulled the teleporting stone from his hand, twice, and he's going to hurt himself if we can't get him snapped out of this."
As he was explaining the problem, he was leading them back to the recovery room, which was only a few doors down from the room they'd been in. They heard him even before they arrived. Heartbreaking sobs and low, agonizing mutterings.
Natasha was on the edge of Peter's bed, leaned over him and trying to hold him without hurting him. The cloak was draped over the boy as well, and when they were pushed up against either side of the bed, Tony saw that Peter's hands were in tight fists, with bandages wrapped around them, heavily. Presumably to keep him from holding the teleporting stone.
Romanoff looked over at their arrival and vacated her spot when Tony got out of the wheelchair and moved to take her place.
"Peter…" he said, softly.
The boy didn't open his eyes, Whatever nightmare/panic attack he was enthralled in had him completely in its grasp.
"They're dead," he whispered, brokenly.
"Peter," Tony said, again, his hand brushing the boy's forehead, tenderly, his voice firm, despite the gentle touch. "Listen to me, son. We're here."
"No…" he shook his head. "I'm alone, again."
Pepper sobbed at the ache that they could all hear. She moved to the other side of him, her hand reaching for his, holding it awkwardly since it was so heavily bandaged.
"We're here, sweetheart," she told him, bending over to speak directly into his ear, where he couldn't ignore her. "Open your eyes, Peter. Look at us."
He shook his head.
"It's a trick…"
If he opened his eyes, it was the final proof. The final truth. He was an orphan, yet again.
Stark had Peter's other hand, the cloak moved to avoid being pinned between so many bodies and Strange and Natasha could see that the bandages protecting his injured belly and chest were bloody from the exertions. It was the least of their concerns, just then.
Tony brushed his jaw against Peter's cheek, and let the hand that he was holding go when the boy automatically reached for his face. With the bandages holding his hand closed, there was no way he could have actually felt the facial hair under his fingers, but it wasn't the sensation that he needed. It was the jolt back to reality that the contact provided.
He opened his eyes, and Tony pulled back just enough to allow him to look at them.
Peter's eyes went from him, then to Pepper, who had also moved a little, and then back to Tony, once more, and his struggles ceased.
"Tony?"
"We're here, son."
He still didn't look like he believed what he was seeing. Pepper brushed her fingers along his cheek, while Tony did the same on the other side.
"He told me you guys were dead…"
"We're not." Stark pressed a kiss against Peter's forehead, holding his cheek once more against the boy. Proving what he was being told.
Peter's hands came up. One went to Pepper's cheek, holding her against him on that side, the other held Tony where he was. Then he started crying; deep, shuddering sobs that wracked his entire being and might have caused him to hurt himself if not for the two people holding him so tightly.
"That's what I needed," Strange murmured, softly, to Natasha, stepping forward as a syringe appeared in his hand.
He administered the sedative, and now that he wasn't held so tightly by the nightmare, the drug did what it was designed to do. The boy's hands came down, limply holding Pepper and Tony, who hadn't moved, and the shuddering and crying stopped.
Pepper pulled back first, kissing Peter's cheek as she did, and brushing away the tears that smeared his face. Tony finally pulled away, as well, and he settled Peter's hands back onto the bed, looking down at the bandages, alarmed.
"Is he alright, Stephen?" he asked, noticing that the cloak was smeared with bloodstains, as well, and absently thinking that Peter would have smiled and said it was grumbling about that.
"He will be," Strange assured them. "Back to bed, you guys. Thank you."
"But we should stay," Pepper objected. "What if he needs us, again?"
"Let me get him stable," the doctor told her, gesturing for the nurse to help ease her back into the wheelchair. "Once he is, we'll put you closer to him – just in case."
It took a bit more to convince Tony to leave, as well, but with the crisis over, he was feeling every ache and pain, and he finally did as he was told.
"You'll call if he needs us?"
"I will."