Happy Saturday! How's your week been? Mine's been okay. Story V is still going well. I'm into the third arc, reaching points I'm excited about. The whole story stands at around 70k now, and there's still so much more tale to tell. I'm in the emotional depths of the plot—both good and bad—and it's great for me to sink my teeth into the challenge.

Thank you Rjcarreno77 for pre-reading, and thank you all for the reviews and follows. It means so much to me to know you're enjoying the story. Seriously, you're all making the experience of writing this challenging world worthwhile.

Chapter Nine

Standing on a rooftop in Queens, Tony waited for his son. He didn't have to wait long before Peter swung past on a web, and Tony grinned and followed. He realized what Peter's focus was at once, as a man was running down the street with a red purse swinging in his hand that did not match his grubby jeans and sweatshirt outfit.

Peter dropped down onto him, knocking him to the ground, and then shot webs at him in dual streams, pinning his hands to the sidewalk.

"Mr. Mugger, you hurt someone. When you knocked that lady down to grab this purse, she fell and broke her wrist," Peter said, his voice stern. "That makes it a second-degree felony, and the maximum jail time is fifteen-years. I hope you get a tough judge."

The man writhed and groaned, then began to spit curses that made Peter web up his mouth and scold, "Language!"

The man's hate-filled eyes fixed on him, and Peter said, "Karen, can you get the police here. Tell them there's a mugger restrained. I've got to go help the woman. There were a few people with her, so she might already have help, but I should return her purse at least."

He swung up on a web, and Tony followed from a distance as he went two blocks back and found a woman who was leaning against a wall, her injured arm held to her chest, and her cheeks stained with tears.

"Hey, Miss," he said. "I got your purse back, and the mugger is going to get picked up by the police soon. Has someone called for help for you?"

She wiped her cheeks with her good hand, then took the offered purse from him and said, "I'm going to get a cab to North Shore," she said.

"I'll go with her," the man at her side added.

"Thank you, Spider-Man," the victim said, her voice choked with emotion or pain, Tony couldn't tell which.

Peter lifted a hand and then turned and started walking away. Tony followed, and then stopped as a new voice shouted from a distance and said, "Hey, Spider-Man."

Peter looked back over his shoulder, and he lifted a hand, almost as if he was greeting the man jogging towards him. Tony sensed something wrong, saw something in the eyes of the man, and started forwards. He was too late, though. The man reached him and with three jerky punching movements, jabbed Peter in the chest, gut, and side, then fled.

Peter threw up his hand and then fell backward like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Tony ran at him, but people were already gathered around him.

Tony shed his faceplate as he shoved them aside and dropped down on Peter's right, his eyes taking in the blood blossoming on the suit and the small holes in the fabric.

A knife, Tony realized, he'd had a knife. Peter had been stabbed.

"Pete," he breathed, tearing off Peter's mask to show his starkly pale face. "Hold on, okay. I've got you."

Peter blinked drowsily, and a frown furrowed his brow. "Tony? How are you here? You've not been here before."

"I'm here," he soothed. "I'm always here. I've gotta move you, Pete. I'm getting you to help." He directed his voice within. "Friday, alert the med team at the compound. Tell them I'm bringing Spider-Man in with stab wounds. He's losing blood, so have some on standby." Peter whimpered, and he added, "And the painkiller serum."

He took Peter's shaking hands, shaking almost as much as his own, and placed them over the points that were bleeding the most; his chest and gut, and said, "Pete, you've got to keep the pressure on here. I've got to carry you."

Peter continued to stare at him, seeming still stunned to see him there, confused. Tony scooped his hands under Peter's back and legs, lifted him, then took flight north to the compound.

"I've got you, kid," he said. "I'm here. You're going to be fine."

Peter coughed, and a small trickle of blood trailed down his chin. "It doesn't happen like this," he rasped. "I always die alone." He coughed again. "How are you here?"

Tony didn't understand what he was saying, and he didn't care. He had a son bleeding out in his arms, and he needed to get him to help.

Peter's eyes drifted shut, and he seemed to struggle to open them again.

"Eyes on me, kid!" Tony ordered. "Look at me!"

Peter's eyes flickered, and his lips parted with words Tony could barely hear over the rush of his thrusters.

"I don't know how you're here."

"I'm here because I'm going to save you," Tony said, voice rough with emotion. "I'm here because I love you."

Peter's lips tugged into a smile, and then they parted with a breath that was not followed by another.

"Peter, no!" Tony cried. "Hold on!"

He powered even faster, carrying his child in his arms and wishing he could stop and do something, but he knew the best thing he could do was get him to the people that had a chance of saving him.

"I've got you," he intoned. "I'm here, and I've got you. I love you, Pete; you hear me? You don't get to do this because I love you. You are going to be fine, understand? I'm going to fix this, fix you. Please, don't give up. Please, Son, don't—"

"Tony!"

The sound of thrusters vanished, the air on his face and the weight in his arms disappeared. He shot bolt upright, almost slamming into Pepper, who was bent over him. She jolted back, out of his way, and then pressed a hand to his heaving chest, and said, "Breathe, Tony. It was just a nightmare."

Tony stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted with panting breaths. "Nightmare?"

She smiled slightly and stroked his face. "Yes. It was just a nightmare."

"I saw Pete die," he whispered. "He died in my arms."

"He didn't. He's fine," she said. "It was just a dream. Peter is safe."

He nodded and raked a hand over his face. "Damn, Pep, it was so real."

"But it wasn't."

He felt wetness on his cheeks, and he wiped it away, fresh tears quickly replacing the ones that were gone.

Pepper leaned her head on his shoulder and said, "Peter is perfectly safe now, Tony. He can't die."

"He can't die," Tony said. "Yes. He's fine. He can't…" He blew out a heavy breath. "I need to see him."

"You should," she agreed. "Go."

Tony kissed her cheek, climbed out of bed, and rushed barefoot out of the room, through the door that separated their apartment from the rest of the compound, and made his way directly to Peter's room. He didn't pause to knock before going in, and he didn't expect to find the person sitting on the side of Peter's empty bed.

Bucky looked up at him. "Did Friday tell you?" He sounded a little relieved, which confused Tony almost as much as his presence.

"Where's Peter?" he asked.

"Bathroom."

Just then, the door opened, and Peter stepped out. The t-shirt he was wearing was damp with sweat, and his hair was bedraggled. His skin was almost as pale as it had been in the nightmare, and his eyes were wary.

Tony didn't stop to ask questions, not when he was driven by a need to touch his son, reassure himself that he was alive. He crossed the room to Peter, pulled him into his arms, and held him tight, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple.

Peter held him in return and then pulled back and asked, "Are you okay?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I had a nightmare is all…"

"I saw you," Peter said. "You were there."

"I was… What's going on, Pete?"

Peter looked at Bucky, who gave him a small nod and said, "It's time, bud."

Peter bit his lip and then tugged the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it over his head, revealing the three scars that made bile rise in Tony's throat. The scars were in the exact places the blood had blossomed on Peter's suit in his dream.

"What the hell…" he whispered. "Peter…"

"I had a nightmare," Peter said. "I've had a lot, and I wake with the scars of the injuries I get in the dream."

Tony's legs felt like they were going to buckle under him, and he staggered towards the bed. Bucky took his elbow, eased him down, and said, "Do you want me to leave you to talk?" to Peter.

"No, you should stay," Peter said, coming to sit beside Tony. "It's coming out now anyway."

"I saw that happen," Tony said. "You caught a purse-snatcher, took the bag back to the victim, and then someone… I thought he was just punching you, but then you were bleeding out, and I tried to get you to help, but you…" He swallowed hard.

Peter nodded. "I died in your arms. I remember." He tilted his head to the side and said, "Soul, was it you?" He paused a moment, listening, then said, "Even at that distance? I guess I was."

"What are they saying, Pete?" he asked.

"It was my fault," Peter said. "I dreamed of you before the change happened and the nightmare, vision, whatever you want to call it, started. I was open to you and you to me, obviously, so we connected. I must have dragged you into the nightmare, too. I'm really sorry."

Tony stared at him, trying to make sense of his thoughts. He'd shared a dream with Peter; that was new, but more pressing was the fact Peter had been stabbed in his dream and woke with the scars of those injuries.

He touched the scar over Peter's chest, the one that had bled the most, feeling the ridge beneath. "You dreamed of dying, and it's not the first time?"

Peter shook his head. "It was the fifth time."

Tony closed his eyes, absorbed his shock, then asked, "And you get these scars every time?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. The Stones say it's because of them, that I'm connected to all realities and times."

"That's not all, kid," Bucky prompted.

Peter shook his head. "No, it's not. The dreams are because I've been attacked in other realities." He bit his lip. "They're trying to kill me."

Tony gasped. "Someone's trying to kill you!"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, but they can't. They're just moving through time and realities to target me, but it won't work. They can only create new timeline realities. They're not like me."

Tony stared at him. "Pete, I don't… Okay, you can't die, that's great, but someone is trying to kill you? Who the hell is it?"

"We don't know," Peter said, slipping into the plural for the Stones and himself. "It's always different people or situations. Toomes was one of them a week ago—he was on a mission to kill me after escaping jail." He touched his throat. "He strangled me."

"This is just…" Tony shook his head. "You didn't tell me!"

"I didn't want you to worry," Peter said. "I'm not really in any danger. It's just nightmares and scars."

"I was there, Pete, I saw what happened, how much pain you were in. That's not just a nightmare—that's torture."

"For the record, I wanted him to tell you," Bucky said, speaking up at last.

"You should have told me, Bucky," Tony snapped.

"I asked him not to," Peter said. "I didn't even want him to know, but he heard me freaking out after the first dream." He ran his hand over his face. "It's my fault, not his. I didn't want to freak you out about the attacks, not when I can't die."

"That's not the point, bud," Bucky said. "You're suffering in these dreams. Someone is targeting you."

Peter shot him a sad smile. "I don't know who, though. The only way I might be able to find out is to go looking through time, each reality, and hope I find the right one. I'd be gone weeks, months, searching."

"You're not doing that," Tony said roughly.

Peter being away before had been tough, but they'd known he was enjoying himself out there, learning, traveling, and exploring. Tony couldn't let him take off through time and realities looking for someone that was trying to kill him. He couldn't die, that was fact now, but he could still be hurt. Would whoever it was that was doing this find him there and hurt him?

"Okay," he said, planting his hands on his knees. "We're going to find some other way to stop this. You're not taking off looking; you'd be vulnerable if you found them there. If it's always someone different attacking, it's because someone is manipulating them. We need to know who."

"How do I find out?" Peter asked.

Tony bit down on his tongue as he had to answer; he just knew he needed to find a way. "We can't let it go on," he said eventually. "I know for sure I can't handle seeing that again, and what if it was someone else?" He sucked in a breath. "What if Morgan saw it?"

Peter visibly flinched then, without another word, his eyes became blank as he withdrew to talk to the Stones.

Tony stared at him, wondering what he was saying to them, what solution they were offering.

"You know, we might have a way to find out who's doing it," Bucky said quietly.

Tony's eyes snapped to him. "What? How?"

"Toomes, the man that killed him a week ago, was someone he knew. We don't know what happened to him after he killed Peter, but he's probably still in that reality somewhere. Peter could go find him and find out what happened, why he did it."

"Find the man that killed him?" Tony said scathingly. "You think he should offer himself up to be strangled again?"

Bucky bit his lip. "Risking that might be the only way to stop this."

Tony shook his head briskly, feeling the phantom weight of Peter's body in his arms again. "No. We're not doing that, and you're not going to even suggest it. I just saw my kid die, Bucky, and I'm not sending him off to lose him again. He can't die, no, but he could get trapped, attacked again. No."

Bucky gave him an assessing look and then nodded. "Okay. I won't say it."

"Good," Tony said roughly, and then his eyes snapped to Peter as he drew in a long breath.

"What did they say?" Tony asked.

"Soul is going to stop anyone seeing it," he said. "Or I guess I am. When we connect, it's because I'm open, reaching, and I know how to stop that now." His lips turned down at the corners, but his voice was firm as he said, "I won't let Morgan see that, never." He looked up at Tony. "I'm sorry you had to."

Tony hugged him to his side and kissed his hair. "It's not your fault, kid. It was hell, but I'm also glad you weren't alone. If you need me to be there again, reach all you like."

Peter smiled, though it seemed forced. "It's okay. I can handle it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want you to worry."

Tony kissed him again and said, "I get it, but don't hold back again. If it happens, have Friday wake me so I can come help."

"I can't do that without waking, Pepper," Peter said. "Besides, Bucky and I have a good system going."

Tony sighed. As much as he wanted to be there for his son, he knew Peter wouldn't want Pepper to become a part of the problem. It was another instance of Tony needing to let someone else take care of his kid in his place.

Bucky gave Peter a smile and said, "Yeah, we've got it handled. Right, bud?"

Peter nodded. "We really have." He leaned closer to Tony, resting his head on his shoulder.

Tony enjoyed the contact and tried to sort through his thoughts. He hated that Peter was going through this, and if there was a way to save him from it without risking him, he'd be on board, but he wasn't going to let Peter go off in time in search of someone that already killed him once.

He loved Peter too much to risk him being attacked in a time and place where he couldn't go to help.

So… Tony knows. Originally, Peter told them all after his very first dream, but Snarks said I was making him too mature and the story boring. She said there had to be problematic actions happening. That's what I went with. What do you think?

In case you missed it, I started posting a short Thanksgiving theme Irondad story on Thursday. It's a cute one, very different to this series, with family fluff and Tony in cooking crisis. It's called The Great Thanksgiving Feast, and I really enjoyed writing it.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx