The wonderful monrieh89 has made us some beautiful art for this story. Some of them are for future chapters so spoilery, but for C21 she made a piece you can view on imgur-.-com-/-kn8gU18– without dashes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tony sipped his coffee, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. It was early, but he had a feeling Peter was up. He'd heard him moving around in the bedroom. Tony's mind wandered to Pepper, and he thought that maybe he would take her out for breakfast when she got out of the shower. She deserved a day off, and he missed spending time with her.
Footsteps approached that weren't Peter's. They didn't have distinct whirring of the braces. He turned to see Bruce coming into the kitchen. The man looked worried, and it unsettled Tony a little.
"Hey, Bruce. You want coffee?"
Bruce shook his head. "Where's Peter?"
"Still getting dressed, I think. Why?"
"I need to talk to you. Can you come down to the lab?"
Concern burned bright in his chest, and he nodded, setting down his coffee and following him out. He told himself that it could be anything, there was no reason to believe it was something bad, but something about Bruce's expression told him otherwise. He didn't want to think about what could be wrong.
They got to the lab, and Bruce closed the door behind them, going to the microscope. He checked it then brought up a hologram.
Tony examined it. It looked different now than it had before. He couldn't make out what was going on. The cells seemed to be clashing and bouncing off of each other, and some of them looked too small, malformed. Some were bigger than they were before.
"What am I looking at?"
Bruce took a breath, seeming to steel himself. "There's a change in the cells, and, Tony, it's not good."
His heart clenched painfully, but he tried to stay calm. He took a steadying breath and let it out slowly, conscious of the way the air left him. He needed to stay in control. He had to stay calm.
"Tell me."
Bruce pointed to one of the larger cells. "These are the mutated cells from the bite."
"He's still got them," Tony said, "and there's more of them. They look bigger, too. That's good, right?" Part of him knew it wasn't, though, but he had to hope.
"They're fighting back."
"That is good!"
"No, Tony." He pointed to one of the misshapen ones. "These are incomplete cells. Somehow, Peter's body isn't developing them properly anymore. He's …"
"He's what?" Tony had to fight the urge to grab his collar and shake him. "Tell me!"
"The mutated cells are resurging and fighting back, and that's defeating the incomplete cells, but his body is just making more. His body isn't functioning properly anymore. The asthma … It's not asthma, Tony. It's his lungs struggling to cope without the perfect cell replacement they need. I can't be sure without more to work with than blood, but I think that's happening across his body. All his organs need cell growth. Cells die and are replaced all the time. But it takes time. Usually, a person's cells are replaced over ten years, and the body handles it, but Peter's are dying too fast, and they're not the right cells replacing them."
Tony pressed his hands to his face and just breathed. It made sense. It was basic science, even he knew that, but he didn't understand what it really meant for Peter. If he had incomplete cells, and it was happening fast, what happened when all the good cells were gone?
He was afraid to ask.
"The mutated cells are trying to fix the mistake, but they're making the problem worse. They're destroying the cells he has."
He swallowed hard, lowering his shaky hands. "What does it mean for my kid?"
Bruce looked pained, and his voice was a little stilted as if he was forcing the words out. "It means he's dying. I don't know how long it will take, I can't predict without further testing, but if what I see in the blood continues, he will die soon."
Tony's hands found Bruce's collar, his fingers twisting the material of his shirt. A surge of anger shot through him, and he embraced it. Anger, he knew. It was a familiar old friend. "No! You're wrong."
"I'm sorry, Tony, really, but it's happening. Peter is dying."
His thoughts seized, and before he could think, he was lashing out. His fist slammed into Bruce's jaw, and Bruce stumbled back, cradling his face. They stared at each other, and Tony felt a hint of regret. It wasn't Bruce's fault. His anger began to wilt, and then Bruce took a breath, stepping closer again, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Tony. I really am."
Tony didn't want apologies. He wanted Peter to be okay. The sadness in Bruce's voice, though, drained the rest of his anger, replacing it with pain. He was losing his kid.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. His lungs were moving, but the air didn't feel like it was reaching him. He caught himself with his hands, lowering himself to the floor, so his forehead rested on the cold tile. Everything began to spiral. His breaths came too fast, and his head swam. The only thing he could think about was Peter dying. He was too young. It wasn't fair.
He could hear Bruce beside him, and a hand touched his back, but he couldn't make out the words. The hand on his back felt like a red-hot iron. If he could find his words, he'd ask Bruce to move it, but his tongue felt too big in his mouth. His whole body was shaking like he was in the throes of a seizure. Tears burned at his eyes.
Time had no meaning. He just existed in his mind. Bruce's words replaying again and again. Everything felt too fast, his heart, his breaths, his tears, but his mind was slow. It was locked on Peter. He could see his face, his smile, the way he'd looked the day Friday called Tony into the gym to see him walking alone.
He felt like he was being burned alive. No anxiety attack before had felt like this because this was worse. This wasn't an attack. This was dying. His body, his world, was breaking apart, and he felt every tear.
The burning hand moved from his back, replaced by a smaller, gentler one, and he heard a new voice.
"Tony, breathe. You're okay. It's an anxiety attack. You're perfectly safe."
"Pepper?" He choked on the name.
"I'm here. I've got you."
He felt strong arms, lifting him like a doll, and then he was sitting back on his haunches, Pepper kneeling in front of him. She was holding his face and thumbing away his tears, soothing him like a child.
"Dying…" he sobbed.
"No, you're not. It's an anxiety attack. You're safe. You'll be okay. You just need to breathe."
Tony shook his head. She didn't understand. He was dying, but that wasn't what he meant. He was trying to tell her, to make her understand what was happening, what was killing him, but he couldn't say the words.
She looked up to Bruce. "He can't go on like this. You've got to have something. I know you've tried drugs."
Bruce murmured a reply.
"Then use it!"
Footsteps moved away, and Tony tried to speak again, to get the words out, so she'd understand, but he could only make strangled gasping sounds.
"Do it!"
He felt a sharp prick in his arm, and then lethargy was sweeping through him. He knew this wasn't death. It was just a stay of execution. His body went slack, and he was caught, lowered by the hands that burned. Pepper was leaning over him, his head pillowed in her lap.
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because you needed it."
He wasn't asking why he'd been drugged. He already knew the answer. What he wanted to know was why his son was dying.
When Tony woke, he was on the couch in the gym, covered in a blanket, his head on Pepper's legs. He didn't immediately remember what had happened, how he came to be there. His head felt foggy and slow.
"Tony?" Pepper said, stroking his hair. "How do you feel?"
Tony licked his lips. "Thirsty." His throat was parched.
She picked up a bottle of water, holding it out to him. With a shaky hand, he took it, unscrewing the cap and gulping it down, feeling it hit his stomach and making it churn.
He blinked up at Pepper. Her eyes were red, and her mascara was streaked. She'd been crying. He wondered what happened.
And then, just like that, he remembered. It all came flooding back. His hand went slack, and Pepper plucked the bottle out of his hand, setting it on the floor. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Where's Peter?"
"He's doing some schoolwork May set up for him. He's okay."
"He doesn't know?"
She frowned a little. "I thought it should be you and May that told him."
Tony was a coward. He didn't want to be the one to tell Peter, but he was the only one that could. Peter deserved to hear it from him. He had to tell May first, though. The news should come from both of them. He swore no more secrets, but he worried he wouldn't be able to find the words to her.
"What did Bruce dose me with?"
"A combination he tried for himself to help with his … problem. He was worried about being in the tower so much with Peter here, so he kept it as a backup."
"Drugs don't work for him."
"No, but I think he needed them here anyway. He had to feel like he had some failsafe in place."
Tony nodded. "I need to see Peter."
"You've got time. We got you in here without him seeing. I told him you had a migraine. He won't expect you for hours." He knew she was offering him a gift, the gift of time. "You could have a day."
Tony nodded, but no matter how much he wanted that day, a stay of execution, he needed to face the situation. He didn't feel as out of control as he did before, so that was good, but now he was more numb as he began to process the facts. What was he going to do? How was he going to fix this?
Pepper leaned against his side. "I'm sorry, Tony."
"Yeah, me too."
"I don't understand how this can be happening. Bruce explained it. It's just—"
"It's not fair."
He heard her sniffle, and though she was looking away, he knew she was crying. Maybe it good he couldn't see her because it might break him even more.
"It's not."
Something in his voice seemed to tip her off, and she straightened up, examining him. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I'm going to fix it."
"Bruce is already looking into it."
"Good." He nodded. "I need to see May."
She looked pained. "I know. Do you want me to be with you?"
He did, he really did, but he knew this is something he had to do alone. "No, it should just be us. I'll go by her place. She did the night shift, so should be… What time is it?"
"Past three."
"Wow."
Whatever Bruce had given him had knocked him out for hours. He was impressed his body handled it. If it was created to beat back the Hulk, it should have done him in. Perhaps Bruce had been careful with the dose, or maybe Tony had been lucky—or unlucky.
No, he couldn't think that way. He didn't get to check out of the situation, to die, because he had a kid that needed him right now.
Climbing to his feet, he looked over his rumpled appearances. He wouldn't usually go out like this, but if he went up to the penthouse to change, he might bump into Peter, and he wasn't ready for that yet. He needed May by his side, a second line of defense for the fallout of what was to come.
"I can go see Peter," Pepper offered.
He studied her face, seeing her damp, tear-stained cheeks, and realized she needed to process things just as much. "Maybe you should get some rest. You look tired."
Perhaps she understood what he was seeing in her, or maybe she was just as scared of seeing Peter as he was, whichever it was, a flash of relief crossed her face, and she nodded. "I've got some work to do."
She got to her feet, pulling him into a hug, the warm, soft scent of her perfume grounding him. He melted into it, drawing strength. He would need it. Soon he would be breaking May's world apart, and then Peter's. He couldn't let himself feel the true weight of that, or he'd break again.
He'd thought before that he needed to be strong, and he'd tried and sometimes succeeded, but this was a different kind of nightmare to face.
He was not going to lose his son, he would find a way to save him, but he couldn't hide what was happening from him as the kid had a right to know.
And Tony needed to be there to save him from that fall.
Tony's footsteps felt like they weighted as he walked out of the elevator and into the penthouse, May a step ahead of him.
Peter was at the table with his schoolbooks spread out in from of him. He was chewing his pen but looked up with a smile when he saw them approach. Tony was struck by how young he looked, his hair tousled, and the chewed pen clamped between his teeth. He was young. He was still doing schoolwork because he was a kid. That thought hit Tony hard. Peter was too young for any of this, and if Tony and Bruce couldn't make it right, he would never get a chance to grow up.
Tony stiffened at that realization hit. If they couldn't fix this, he'd never get to see him got to college or someday have kids of his own. A chill spread down his spine, and he fought a shiver.
Peter looked at him with concern. "Whoa, Tony, you look awful."
Peter carefully got to his feet and walked over, his face filled with worry. Before he could reach Tony, though, May stepped forward and pulled Peter into her arms.
Tony understood how she felt, and he wanted to hold Peter, too. He wanted to cling to him and never let him go. He held himself back, though, because Peter didn't need to be smothered, not yet.
He could see Peter's face over May's shoulder. There was a line of worry on his brow and touch of confusion in his eyes. May was a tactile person, but this was different, and it looked like Peter could sense it.
When Tony had told her what was happened, she'd broken. He knew what it must have been like for Bruce and Pepper when he was breaking down because he had watched it happen to May. He'd tried to be strong for her, to help, but it had been almost impossible. He had cried as he held her, and she had clung to him like a lifeline as she sobbed. He'd tried his best to hold himself together and not burden her with his pain, too.
"What's going on?" Peter asked. "Are you still sick? Pepper said you have a migraine."
Tony shook his head. "I'm fine. Come sit down."
Peter nodded, releasing May, but she still clung to him. Tony placed a hand on her arm and said her name softly. She nodded, holding Peter tighter for a moment, before letting him go and forcing a smile.
Peter was frowning, he tried to smile back at her, walking ahead of them to the couches. He took a seat by the arm, and May settled beside him, close enough their shoulders were brushing.
Tony sat in one of the armchairs, facing Peter. He was guiltily relieved to have a little space, to not be the one Peter would collapse on when it fell apart.
"What's going on?" Peter asked again, his eyes moving from Tony to May. "Something's wrong." His face slackened as his eyes darted back to Tony. "Are you sick? Was it not a migraine?"
Tony shook his head slowly. "No, I'm fine, really."
"Then what's wrong?" He looked genuinely worried.
Tony opened his mouth to speak, faltered, and snapped it closed again.
May gave him a small nod, picking up Peter's hand. She held it in his lap and said, "You know, Doctor Banner took some blood from you because Tony wanted to know the level of the changes?"
Peter visibly relaxed. "So it's all gone now? I'm back to human?"
Tony swallowed hard. He wished it was that easy.
May flinched and said, "No. Honey, Doctor Banner saw some things in your blood that are… Do you know what was happening before?"
"Yeah, I had these crazy cells attacking the Spider-Man ones."
"There are other changes now, honey. Some cells are not growing properly. It's not asthma that was making it hard for you to breathe. It's the side effects of the different cells. Your body is …" She bit her lip. "It's struggling."
Peter stared at her for a moment, seeming to be searching for something, and then he looked at Tony, who had to force himself to meet his eye and not look away.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
May bowed her head. "It's bad, sweetie."
Peter nodded slowly. "Is it going to kill me?"
May's answer came with a muffled sob. "Yes."
Peter flopped back against the cushions with a rough exhale as if all the air had been kicked out of him. His eyes were distant, stunned. Tony just stared at him, wishing he could talk but unable to form words. Peter needed comfort, and Tony knew he had to be strong, but he just couldn't. It was taking everything he had not to break again.
"Okay," Peter says dully, wiping a hand over his face. "How long?"
"We don't know," May said. "Doctor Banner would need to do more tests to have an idea."
A steely look came into Peter's eyes. "I don't want more tests."
"I know they might not be comfortable, but the more we know…" May trailed off, looking broken.
Peter leaned forward, holding up a hand. "No. It's not going to help me to be counting down the days. I don't want more tests, and I don't want to know." He shook his head. "No."
May nodded. "Okay. No more tests."
Tony finally found his voice, and it was harsh when he spoke, "Pete, we need to know more."
"Why?" Peter asked. "It's not going to help any of us to be staring at a clock."
"No, but—"
Tony pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He'd been determined not to do this, to keep it to himself, but he had to say it. May had already warned him off the topic, just like she had in the hospital, but Peter needed hope. It sounded like he'd given up already, and Tony couldn't let him do that.
"We need to know more so we can fix it."
May growled his name, fury on her face, but Peter had his attention. Peter was staring at him as if puzzling something out, and then he nodded. "After my accident, did you try to fix it? Did you have Doctor Banner working on a cure for me?"
Tony nodded stiffly. "Yes."
Peter smiled slightly. "And did it help?"
Tony's mouth dropped open. "What?" Peter couldn't think they'd found a cure and not tried it.
Peter shook his head, still smiling. "Did it help you?"
Tony was struck by how old he sounded. He'd always been mature for his age, he'd needed to be, especially lately, but it was like talking to someone like Rhodey, someone with a lifetime of experiences, knowledge, and wisdom.
"Yes."
Peter nodded and smiled. "Okay. I'll do what you need me to do, you can have your tests, but I don't want to know how long I've got."
"Peter, there is going to be no 'how long.' I will fix it!"
"Stop!" May was shouting now. "Stop it!"
Peter patted her arm. "It's okay. He needs it." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to lie down for a while."
"Peter—" Tony didn't want him to go, to be alone with this. He wanted to cling to him.
Peter shook his head, releasing May's hand and getting to his feet, walking away. Tony heard his bedroom door open and close, and he put his head in his hand.
"I can't believe you did that!" May said, her voice shaking. "I told you not to give him false hope."
Tony looked up, and there was something in his face that made her pull back a little. "It's not false hope," he said. "I am fixing this. I am not letting our kid die."
May drew a shaky breath. "You might not be able to control it."
Tony leapt to his feet, hands fisted and shaking, and forced himself not to explode with his anger. He marched out of the room and down to the lab where Bruce was waiting.
Bruce had his arms crossed over his chest, and there was an expectant look on his face. It was as if he knew what Tony was going to say, and when Tony faltered, he proved he did.
"We need MRI and CT scans, more bloodwork, and a spinal tap."
Tony nodded, thinking of what Peter said. "We'll get it."