Chapter 66 - Hate Is Easy, Love Is Harder

Tony's arms hurt. The fingers of his right hand kept cramping. It was just a reminder of how much time he had recently spent behind a keyboard or studying documents that his body was not accustomed to the strain of a long session of active workshop tinkering. Still, there was something so grounding about this kind of work that he almost relished in the small spikes of pain as the fingers of his right hand cramped again.

Those damn shooters. The web fluid had clogged them up completely. He had never removed the still half-filled vials when he had stuffed the kid's suit into one of the wall panels the previous week. How had it only been a week? It felt more like a month since he had made Peter Parker take off that suit. Since he had banished him from the Tower.

Tony huffed out a low breath. He'd been a fool.

His talk with Natasha had been a brief one. She had filled him in on everything they knew about Barnes, which wasn't much other than that the NYPD had moved the soldier from the hospital into one of the basement cells of the police's headquarter.

Tony had his back to his workbench, his elbows braced against the surface. "Is there any line of communication set up?"

"We have Clint's two contacts but can only use them sparingly. We'll try to get word to Cap about the trial." Natasha stood directly opposite him, her arms crossed in front of her. The scowl on her face hadn't lifted ever since she had reentered the lab.

His neck was killing him. One of his hands rubbed roughly against the tightly wound muscles, trying to ease the strain. Maybe he should sleep. Not for long. An hour, maybe two. That should be enough.

He tried to concentrate on the issues at hand instead. "Any intel on what they'll do with Rogers?"

"No."

"If Ross wanted to send him to the Raft wouldn't he have done so by now?"

"Maybe." Natasha didn't move, her stance stoic. "It's not Germany. Maybe this was too public for them to have him simply disappear. It's still Steve. People still love him."

"Right," Tony huffed.

"Those who don't want him to pay for his indiscretions. Publicly."

She wasn't wrong. There was very little middle ground when it came to Captain America. People adored him. Or they didn't. Tony shook his head, unwilling to figure out where he'd find himself on that considerably small spectrum.

They only had a limited amount of topics to discuss, which was part of the problem. He was no closer to solving this shit than he had been before the Rogues had reappeared. He sent Natasha back to her floor for some rest before she would meet up with Clint at the Compound while he vowed to continue his work on a solution to their problems with Ross. And Clarke.

Even with Barnes' trial looming and the deadline for finding anything to bring Ross down getting closer and closer, Clarke was still a top priority. A threat they would need to tackle fast. Best-case would be taking both men out at once but so far Tony didn't have anything that would stick on either of them.

He had gone through his notes. He had gone through everything he had collected on Ross. It wasn't even that he didn't have receipts of Ross' misdeeds, they were simply unusable. Bribes, intimidation, promotions and careers ruined when people had crossed him. Lives in ruins of those who had not done as he had ordered. It was all right there, but Ross had been too good, had always placed someone else in the line of fire to protect himself. It was a clear pattern but to unseat the Secretary of State, Tony needed more. To put him behind bars, he would need a miracle, a mistake, something.

The frustration of his uselessness had brought him to where he was now, bent over the workbench fiddling with the kid's web-shooters. He had just needed something to clear his mind, something that would help him think his way through this mess and he was best at that when he was tinkering.

He had needed a task where his hands could just be busy, could just work while his mind was free to rattle on. No updates, nothing that required him to pay attention, that would require him to think, so when he pulled the Spider-suit out of the wall panel it was really just because it was convenient and right there.

It wasn't a big deal, nothing to do with the kid. His kid.

He had fitted the Spider-suit onto a holding frame, keeping it upright and pulled into shape. FRIDAY was ordered to run diagnostics, something he should have done a lot more when the kid had actually used it. Maybe he would have found out faster. Maybe he would have caught on.

"All systems are fully functional, boss. Geo-tracking and satellite control have been restored. Only remaining error code is E7."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "E7, huh?"

E7 meant there was an obstruction somewhere, possibly a foreign object that was lodged...

"Right," he mumbled and had gone to work. The web-shooters had been left untouched. The fluid had a limited shelf life and he had let it just sit there for days, of course if would have clotted by now, obstructing the shooters.

It was easy to remove the web-shooter units. He carried them over to the workbench and made to unclog them. A monotone job, perfect for thinking, if only his thoughts could stick to the one issue at hand. It was important. He needed to figure this out not just for the team but for the boy, too.

His boy who was lying in bed one floor above him. His boy who he had yelled at just hours ago, who he had let down no matter what everyone else said. He should have done better, should have been collected and strong for him to lean on.

"Fuck." Tony bit his lip. His hand had slipped and the knife had nicked the side of his left index finger. He pressed his hand close to his chest, cursing his own flimsiness. With an annoyed shake of his head, he inspected the wound but it wasn't all that bad. He pressed his lips against the cut hoping to still the bleed.

"Boss, the first aid kit is—"

"It's fine, I don't need..." He could taste blood but it seemed like he had been lucky. There had to be an easier way to do this. Something that would just disperse the dried up clots. A quick glance at the cut confirmed that it was only a minor wound, nothing to worry about. "It's fine, FRI, you can stand down."

Tony left the tools and web-shooter on the workbench and dropped down onto his chair. The finger pressed against his lips again, stilling the bleed, he rubbed his other hand across his eyes. He had been trying to ignore the exhaustion but now he felt it. He felt it deep in his bones. A sense of wariness that he couldn't afford to give into. It was late. He should rest, look at things again in the morning. Fresh eyes, fresh mind.

But he could feel the time he had left to solve this run through his fingers like sand. How could he rest as long as—

"Sir, code AES 007."

Tony didn't even remember standing up straight, all signs of exhaustion replaced by a sudden shot of adrenaline. "Where's Pepper?"

"She's still in his room. Her vitals suggest that she is sleeping."

His eyes flickered to the corner of his projection checking the time. It was just past 2 am.

"Rhodey?"

"In the guestroom, Sir. Asleep as well."

A sudden wave of panic made him move towards the elevator. His body was buzzing. He was overreacting. He knew that he was overreacting. The kid probably just wanted a snack, some water maybe. "Lockdown the penthouse level, FRI. Restrict access to the outdoor areas."

"Sir, I would advise against a lockdown as your son is currently out on the balcony."

Tony's heart skipped a beat. "Get me up there and fast."

As the elevator doors opened onto the penthouse floor, he couldn't help but rush up to the balcony door, a hundred scenarios playing in front of his eyes of everything that he could walk into.

"Stop!" His heart weight heavy in his chest, filled with anxiety. "Stop right there!"

The kid was dressed in black from head to toe. He had walked up the balustrade, his back turned towards the balcony door, towards Tony, whose heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. Peter didn't step back from the ledge of the building. He just stood there, eyes on the streets laid out about 1000 feet below them.

"Come... come on, come back inside..."

The boy was staring out into the night sky almost like he hadn't heard Tony like he hadn't heard him approaching. Unlikely. It wouldn't surprise Tony if the kid could even hear the elevator move when he was in full possession of his abilities.

"Come back inside and we can talk. I can... I can apologize for... for what I said and you... Kid, please..."

"I don't want your apology." The kid's voice was surprisingly soft. He hadn't raised it, sounded more like Tony had interrupted him in the middle of the calculation for a project, but at least he was talking.

"Alright, fine. Then we just talk. I... I'll try to explain better and—"

"I don't want to talk. I'm done talking." His breathing was forced low, the kid's own anxiety buried very close to the surface. "She needs me. I know she does and I can't just sit here... I... I need to go."

"And do what?" The words were out of Tony's mouth before he could stop himself. "What is it you think you can do for her right now?"

The boy's body twitched. His right hand came to rest on the balustrade and Tony's heart froze at the sight.

"Stop. Don't—"

"I'll... I'll help her. Keep... keep her safe."

"How are you gonna do that, huh?" Tony's skin was prickling with nerves. "Break her out of the hospital? And then what? You'll live on the run? She needs medical attention. She can't even sit up on her own right now!"

"I don't..." The boy did turn then, his face pale, eyes wide with shock.

"This doesn't help anyone." Tony's face probably didn't look much better than Peter's. His knees were shaking, panic threatening to weave its way into his every cell. "Least of all your aunt."

Peter shook his head. "I don't... I don't care, I just... I have to—"

"We'll find a way, but this ain't it." There would be nothing he could do if the kid decided to just go through with this plan. Nothing short of busting out his armor if he wanted a chance at stopping him. "All this does is draw attention to you, put you in a cell that I might not get you out of."

"I DON'T CARE!" The boy's face was twisted in agony.

His hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking, it took all of Tony's will to keep it together. "Well, I care. Pepper cares. Your aunt, she cares."

"Don't!" The kid turned his back to him and Tony's heart made a jump in his chest.

"You think she'll come with you? Flee the system? She won't." That was a shot in the dark. He had no idea what May Parker was actually capable of, just the hope that she would do the right thing for the kid. "Even if she knew what you can do, which she doesn't."

The boy's breathing was heavy and no matter how often Tony had seen him on the ledge of a building before, how often he had seen him jump off or even flip off one, this was different. Not just because of everything that had changed since then but it was the way the boy's whole body was trembling, how wobbly he still was on his legs. His left arm was just dangling by his side, the bandage from the bullet wound clearly bulging out the sleeve of his shirt. Sliding down the wall of an apartment building in Queens with only one of his arms able to support him was one thing, but they were on the 68th floor of a skyscraper. And it was the lack of a suit on the boy that bothered him most. No web-shooters, no safety measures should he need them. It made Tony's blood run cold.

"Pepper... Pepper called our lawyers. We're petitioning the court." The words rolled off his tongue so fast he hardly knew what he was saying. He had wanted to keep this quiet, had wanted to make sure they'd succeed before getting the kid's hopes up. "Trying to get the court's approval so you can see her."

Peter's head shot up before he froze. Then slowly, his hand slipped off the railing and he shuffled around, facing Tony again. "That I... that I can see her?"

Tony swallowed hard but nodded. "Yes. I know you want to. I know she wants to see you as well and—" He shook his head, eyes fixed on the kid. "Pepper called the lawyers today. It might take a day or two to hear back but—"

"And what?" The boy's face was stoic though just as pale as before. "May, she... she wants to see me and what?"

Tony held his gaze. He contemplated lying. He contemplated deflecting. It didn't matter after all, what Tony's motives in this were. Side motives. The boy would still get to see her. He was still doing this for the kid above everything else. All that mattered— Tony blew out a low breath. This wasn't the time for lies however white they were.

"And it'll remind her why she did all this." He was careful not to look away. "Keep her from taking a deal that Clarke's side might offer."

Peter's face twitched, his lips pressed tightly closed. His stance was a little crooked, the left arm still injured hanging stiffly next to him, the other one had a slight tremor, fingers picking at each other. "Clarke... Clarke is offering a... a deal?"

"Not yet. Not as far as we know. But we're sure they will." He wanted to get closer, get close enough to intervene should the boy decide to bolt. He still looked like he could bolt any second. "The justice department. Clarke will try his best to pressure them."

"But..." The kid shook his head, eye wandering down to the floor then back up to Tony. "But a deal might help. A deal might keep her free! A deal—"

"A deal will sell you out, kid."

Peter winced back, the railing pressed against his back, and Tony followed, stepping closer to him. "Shh, it's alright. Nobody will touch you. You're—"

"I... no... I don't..." The boy shook his head. "If that... if it would keep her free I—"

"No." Tony shook his head, his voice's sharpness out of his control. "Not gonna happen."

The kid's face twitched with a mix of pain and anger. "You don't get to decide that! You don't—"

"Kid, it'll not keep her free!" Another step, a small one. "Hey, look at me. They'll not let her off. They'll use her to try and control you."

"But you don't know that." He was shaking on his feet. "If they'd offer that... If she was free—"

"She wouldn't be, buddy." Tony's shoulders were tense. He wanted to reach for the kid, hold him, but he was too scared to spook him if he moved too fast. "Or if she was, it might end with you in the Raft. That's not—"

"It might! Or it might not!"

"It's not a risk we will take." Tony was stalking closer to the edge of the building, closer to his boy, hoping if they just talked a bit more, he'd at least reach him in time. "This is not the way to help her, kid."

The boy's feet jerked, almost pacing in place. "I'm not... I'm not... this... it's not happening." He turned his back to Tony, his right hand back on the balustrade. The soft whimper had Tony take another two steps as the kid slowly pulled up his other hand as well. "I'm not... not gonna let you take away that... that choice for her!"

"I... Kid, I'm not." Tony's hands were balled into fists. The adrenaline rushing through him blocked out the sting from the cut in his hand almost entirely. "Clarke can't be trusted. Anything he had his hands in can't be trusted. You know that! I'm trying to help—"

Peter turned, finger pointed at him, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. "Stop pretending like you want to help her! I know you don't!"

"I... I do..." His voice should sound more convincing than this. He should at least make himself believe that he meant that. "I promised you I would."

Peter shook his head, his cheeks hollow with exhaustion. "But you don't want to! You'll change your mind and then—"

"I... listen, I was tired and angry and... and I'm still tired and..." Tony blew out a low breath, desperate to pull himself together. "And angry... but I know that I wouldn't ever do anything to... to hurt her because I know you want to protect her. I know I would lose you over this and there is no way, okay? There is no way I'd risk that."

"But if you do... If you change your mind..." The kid's voice was just a low mutter. Tony had a hard time even hearing him over the high winds on the balcony. "It's life in prison if you do..."

The kid's feet shuffled further back, even closer to the edge of the balcony. By pure instinct, Tony's hand shot up as if that would stop the boy.

"Peter—"

"Don't!" The boy's eyes were on him in a flash, burning. "Don't call me that!"

"I... alright." Tony put both hands into the air now, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "I won't if that's what you want. I won't call you that."

Panic of what could happen if the boy went over the edge - willingly or unwillingly - dominated his every thought. He tried his hardest to stay calm, to remind himself that the kid was just a kid. That this was all too much and that he shouldn't— that he couldn't lash out again no matter how deep his own frustrations pained him, that he had to keep his panic all on the inside.

"If that's what I want?" His desperation swung in every word that rolled off the boy's lips. "When has any of this ever, ever been about what I want? It's about what you want. You're the only one who decides. You, only you, every time!"

"Just..." He bit the inside of his cheeks hard. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted the kid to calm down. "We'll talk about it, okay? You tell me... you tell me what you want me to do and—"

"At least Pepper doesn't play pretend like you do. At least Pepper doesn't lie to me all the time!"

His eyes stung. The boy's words landed like an open-handed slap to his face. "I didn't—"

"You said you'd help her! You—you said you'd do any—anything but you lied! I know they already charged her, I know—"

"I didn't lie." Tony took another step. His breathing was painfully heavy. "I have no power over what the justice department does, buddy, and we'll do our best to help her, but kid, she..." Another step. No lies now. "I want to tell you that everything will be alright and that the best lawyers I can find would buy her an acquittal, but that is not going to happen, buddy. She broke the law, I..." Tony shook his head, hoping the kid would hear him. "I can't change that. Nobody can."

Peter's breathing was panicky, mouth slightly open. He was either going to burst into tears any second or turn and just bolt. "I can! I will help her."

Tony was only a little more than an arm's length away. His hands were still up, stretched out wide like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. The only outlet for his frustration he could allow right now. "You want to take her and run." He gave his head a little shake, eyes glued to the boy. "That's not helping her, buddy. That just means you will be hiding from the law until you get caught."

"That... that's not..."

He looked helpless, lost, but there was no sparing him right now, not when he was still willing to risk his own future for a venture that would help nobody.

"They'll catch you and she'll be back in front of the court and things will only be worse for her."

The kid's eyes were red, frantically looking back and forth, looking for a way out of this mess. "I have to... I can't just—"

"There are other ways to help." He lowered his hands only slightly, creeping a little closer still. "Other ways to be there for her."

"No..." He shook his head. "No, I—"

Without another glance at Tony, the kid tried to turn back towards the ledge, but Tony was close enough now, fast enough to grab him by one arm and yank him back if only a step or two away from the 68 story drop.

"No!" The boy's voice was hardly recognizable.

His fists hit Tony's chest again and again and while it was just frustration and anger and no intent to harm, the kid's super-human strength - even weakened - had those strikes on his already battered torso sting all the same. Tony had to bite his lip hard not to groan out in pain and he pulled the boy closer hoping it would calm him down.

"I hate you. I hate you!"

"Shh, I know." It hurt. He couldn't deny it. I was like a physical stab to his very core so much worse than the kid's actual blows to his chest. "I know, buddy."

He pulled the boy with him, wrestled him inside and there was a low vibe of relief for Peter let him. Tony was under no illusion that the Spiderling could overpower him at any moment if he really wanted to as weak as he still was on his feet. It would only need one good shove so he would be able to pull away from Tony. But as much as he wiggled and cried, as much as his swings against Tony's chest burned and his words stung, the boy didn't push him away.

"You ruined everything!" His voice was high, speckled with hiccoughs and sobs. "Every—everything!"

"It's gonna be okay." He doubted that the kid was even really listening to him. "Whatever happens, I'll do everything so you're okay."

"It won't! It won't be okay, it won't!"

He pulled the boy with him, unsure what to do next. The couch was closest and Tony let himself fall into the cushions, Peter still in his arms falling with him to his right, still cursing, still crying. Tony held onto him as the boy squirmed, held him close to his chest, the kid's hand now alternating between the odd push against Tony and gripping and tearing at his shirt, raving in his arms. He tried not to listen, not to take the boy's words to heart. He was scared and confused, his whole life coming apart at the seams. It was everything Tony had feared, everything he had wanted to shield him from but there was no turning back. There was no way to undo what had been pushed into motion, so Tony just kept repeating the same meaningless phrases of how it would be okay. How they would figure it out.

The scary truth was that those words were empty. They meant nothing. In all likeliness, the kid might not be okay, might not even be safe no matter what Tony did. He couldn't promise safety, but he could promise that he would do anything, everything to try.

Tony was talking, babbling the same things over and over more so to drown out the kid's agonizing hurt and fury than to console him for none of this would be enough. The quieter the kid got, the lower his own voice turned until they both stopped speaking altogether. It had been a while since they had both fallen silent. Peter's breathing was even and not as erratic as before. Tony craned his neck to see the boy's face, checking if he'd fallen asleep but two round brown eyes stared up at him.

"It's all my fault."

"Kid—"

"It happened because of me. Everything happened because—"

"None of this in on you. None of it."

Peter pressed his lips shut, his chin quivering with suppressed sobs. "You said... you said it's your fault. What happened to me." The kid swallowed hard but never pulled away. "You said you had to leave cause it was your fault. If that... if that's your fault, then this is mine."

Tony's mouth fell open. He blinked a couple of times, not sure what to say, where to go from here. All he knew is that he would never want his boy to carry that kind of a burden. "Maybe neither of us is at fault then."

Peter's gaze dropped down to his lap, his left arm cradled in front of him. "Without me, their son would still be alive. May would be free and healthy. Her whole family would still be alive, Ben would still be alive. If I had just—"

"Stop. That's not true."

"I could have stopped this." His voice husky with unshed tears. "I could have saved him."

Tony shook his head but then his mind caught up with what the kid had just said. "Saved him?"

Peter only ducked his head, eyes avoiding Tony's. They sat there for another few minutes, Tony wrecking his brain to figure out what he could say, anything, that would make him feel better.

"Did you really call the lawyers? Will I really—" The kid bit his tongue, not looking up.

Tony blew out a low breath, his hand brushed the hair out of Peter's face hoping it would make the boy look up again. "Pepper did. I asked her to."

Another moment of silence until the boy wiggled a bit, his body still tense. "Does she know? May?" He blinked rapidly, then added with a strained voice, "About... about Barnes? About... about know..."

Tony tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. "No." A low breath and he tried to wring out a few more words, just loud enough for the kid to hear. "Not yet."

The boy wiggled again and Tony gave him some room but he didn't turn away, only repositioned himself, eyes still on his own hands. "Are... are you gonna... I mean... will you do it? Tell her?"

His breathing had just calmed down and now his pulse was picking up again. "It's been suggested to me that I shouldn't."

Peter nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Maybe... maybe I should—"

"If you're proposing that you should tell her—" Deep breaths. He had to reign himself in. "You won't be there when she is told about Barnes."

"I don't..." Peter pulled his sleeve further down, covering the marks still visible on his wrists. "I don't want to... to be there."

"Alright." The urge to tug the boy a little closer was strong and hard to suppress. "It'll be alright."

"It doesn't matter," Peter whispered. "She'll hate me."

"She won't, buddy." Tony's heart ached, desperate to make things better. "She loves you."

"She shouldn't. She won't when she finds out. She'll never even want to look at me again."

"Hey, that's not—"

Peter pushed himself away from him, not far, just enough to look at Tony properly. "You hate her. You hate her because... because of me. Because she was like... vaguely involved in why you couldn't... couldn't find me."

"I... I don't..." Tony swallowed hard but was careful not to look away. "I don't hate her."

"But you do," the kid whispered, his voice wavering. "And I'm not even dead."

A cold shiver went down Tony's back, made the hair on his neck, on his arms rise with goosebumps at the thought. At the memory of all these years that he was so close to believing that he was. That his kid had been lost forever, dead.

The boy gasped as Tony pulled him close against him. It didn't matter that his chest stung, that his arms were shaking, he couldn't stand the thought of not holding him, of how long he had thought he would never get to hold him again. Slowly, Peter's arms wrapped around him and he held onto him, his forehead pressed against Tony's neck. Tony's every muscle was shaking from a mixture of exhaustion and nerves. All he could do was hope that the boy didn't notice the tears that were falling into his hair but by the way he had shuffled close, how his hands were clasping hand-fulls of Tony's shirt, he probably did.

"I don't..." The kid's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "I don't hate you... I... I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Shhh." Tony cleared his throat, one hand on his boy's back holding him close, the other in his hair. "It's okay, buddy. You're tired and... and you're angry. Don't worry about it."

He couldn't deny the sense of relief that engulfed his as the kid pressed his face back into his shirt, at how tightly he hugged him even if Tony's ribs suffered momentarily. It was a good kind of pain, the one that made him feel alive and lucky to be.

For a moment at least, a split second for there was even more to worry about now. Something that hadn't even registered as an issue until Peter had started talking.

"Hey, kid..." There was a chance that he'd ruin this once again but he couldn't shake the thought. "You... you weren't there, were you? When Ben Parker was killed?"

The boy twitched in his arms but shook his head no.

"Alright. That... that's alright." Tony's hand was still on the back of Peter's head, tangled in his hair.

"I should have been," Peter whispered. "Maybe he'd still be... still be alive. I... I could have stopped them. Cou—could have done... done something."

Tony pressed his eyes shut, arms tightly wrapped around the small frame of his crying kid. "There's no way to know that, buddy."

"If I hadn't mess—messed around with... with my powers—with... with some stupid tricks and... and things, if I had fo—focused and... and done some—something useful—" His voice broke and he wiggled a bit more until he had his face turned back into Tony's chest. The kid's fists were balled up in his shirt, shaking.

All the "it's not your fault"s and "you couldn't have known"s that rolled of Tony's tongue sounded hollow next to the desperate sobs of the kid. It had never even occurred to Tony that Peter could have been anywhere close to Ben Parker when he had been killed... murdered. Something. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to think about it, to calculate how many weeks into Peter's abilities he had lost the man that had basically raised him. Had raised the boy instead of him.

Tony gave his head a sharp shake. This wasn't the time. This wasn't about him. It was about the crying boy in his arms who had held onto this guilt for months. Guilt over how he hadn't been able to protect a grown man at 12 year's old. It made Tony's stomach turn and he slowly let his hand run through the boy's hair again and again. All he could do was hold his kid, comfort him, and hate himself for how good it felt - despite everything - that he was the one that could be there for him.

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[author's note: Thank you guys for reading and following along! Hope you're enjoying the ride!

I love reading your thoughts on the story since comments are still civil for the most part ;)

Next chapter will be up when it's done which could be any time between this weekend and next week :P]