Pepper held onto Peter's arm. She never let go and never broke stride. Her high, stiletto shoes clicked down the corridor in a loud, precise procession. They marched down the corridor, straight to the elevators. Peter questionably peered up at Pepper, uncertain what was happening. Her sudden arrival shocked him. He remembered her being so kind and caring to him that he felt safe in her presence. He almost relaxed until the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up. Those idyllic memories replaced with terrible reminders of the actual truth.

Did she know? Was she aware that Tony lied to him the entire time? Knew he kept him as a hostage? Was she an accomplice? Peter wanted to believe her innocence, but she was Tony's fiancé and CEO of Stark Industries. She must have known everything… and kept silent.

Pepper quickly glanced back to him like she sensed his dreaded thoughts. "It'll be okay," she promised again, but Peter doubted it. He couldn't trust her.

Peter started to pull away, but Pepper tugged him back. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," she reassured him, hurried. Almost breathless. "We're getting out of here."

His mouth went slack. "What?"

She didn't answer him. Only dragged him along until they got to the elevator, already opened and ready for them. She ushered him inside before ordering FRIDAY to take them to the garage. The elevator doors closed, and they descended.

Peter didn't know what to do. Or say. He knew Pepper. Liked her, but it'd been a long time since he had seen her last. It was the night when she and Tony attended the gala. Back when Peter trusted them.

Could he trust her now?

The question rattled in his head. He hesitantly peeked over at Pepper. He noticed her red eyes, her quivering chest from shallow breaths, her trembling fingers squeezing nothing, and her face was all blotchy.

Pepper looked broken. Heartbroken.

Her eyes suddenly flitted down to him. "I'm sorry," she said, in an honest, hurt voice. "I didn't—Tony said you were an orphan. That you didn't have a family."

Oh. She didn't know. Never knew because Tony lied to her too. Fabricated a tale to trick Pepper into believing him. And why wouldn't she? Tony Stark was her fiancé. The love of her life. Iron Man. Why would he lie to her about a poor, lonely kid?

Peter's fingers wrangled the fabric of his shirt. "It's okay," he offered, uncertain what to say. "I-I-It's not your fault. You didn't know—"

"But I should have known!" Pepper exclaimed, more so at herself. "I should have… when you mentioned your aunt, I should have put it together she was alive!"

She meant the first night he had dinner with them. When Peter still believed Tony and enjoyed himself in their company. He vaguely remembered the conversation. The sad look on Pepper's face when he brought up Aunt May. The manner of which Tony quickly took control of the conversation afterwards. How did Peter not see it? MJ would have caught on. He was such an idiot!

Pepper kept rambling. "I assumed you meant from before! And Tony… he said you were alone! An orphan, and I took it as meaning your family was gone." She hugged herself, face drawn. Then, her eyes went wide, alit with dawning hope. "Is your aunt… is she—?"

Peter darted his gaze away from her, blinking too quickly to filter out the dialing of his senses. All the air in his lungs turned cold. His throat constricted. The smell of burnt flakes wafting in the air around him. His eyes spied flakes in the corner of the shadows and his ears heard pleading whispers of the last words his aunt ever said. He jabbed his fingers down, the nails pinching the skin against his palms. The sharp pain drew attention, reeling him back to reality before he spiraled out of reach.

His long, painful silence answered Pepper's question.

Pepper clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh God… o-oh God. Peter, I—I'm so sorry."

She was saying that a lot, Peter thought. He didn't understand why. It wasn't her who ruined his life. Pepper didn't snap his life away.

"It's not…" Peter tried to speak, but it was hard. His throat felt thick. "It's okay—"

"Peter," Pepper's face flushed. An angry light in her eyes as her kindly face turned hard. "It's not okay. Don't make it okay!"

"Ok—sorry, I mean…" Peter inhaled, deep enough for a chill to course through his body. He squeezed his hands and blinked hard, looking back to Pepper. "It's just… you know, he lied to you too."

It was true. It wasn't Pepper's fault. She was like him. Lied and manipulated by someone she loves and trusts.

Pepper huffed, a slight scowl curling up. "Not anymore," she stated. "I'm getting you out."

That worried Peter. More than anything he would love to escape from the Tower and be free, but that was not part of the deal he struck with Tony. Rules applied, and one of them being that he wasn't allowed to leave the premises without explicit permission. And Peter doubted that meant Pepper.

"Miss Potts? Pepper?" Peter worried on his lip, eyes glancing upward where he knew FRIDAY listened. "I-I'm not sure I—"

He got cut off when the elevator jostled to a stop. Peter furrowed his brow, staring back at the doors with peculiarity. That was quick. Too quick. Were they even at the garage floor? Peter checked with Pepper and saw her face screwed up in confusion.

"FRIDAY?" Pepper called out to the AI. "What's going on?"

"The garage is closed at the moment," FRIDAY''s voice answered overhead. "May I redirect you?"

Peter's stomach twisted. He didn't need his spider-sense to know it was Tony. The man became aware of their flight. It was him who blocked their exit. Peter writhed in distress, gripping the ends of his shirt as he fretted over being caught. Pepper, however, remained undeterred.

She ordered FRIDAY to take them to the lobby instead. "We'll walk out through the front doors then," Pepper decided.

Peter didn't like it. Blood pounded in his ears. His fingers tingled, the sensation creeping up his arm. His mind buzzed with worry, apprehensive of the repercussions Tony would issue against him. And Pepper. Peter didn't like to think Tony would hurt his fiancé, but Tony was a lot of things Peter believed he could never become.

The elevator moved, but not far. Only down a few floors before it stopped again. Pepper took Peter's arm again, ready to charge out. The door slid open and they found their exit blocked.

Peter's heart dropped.

Tony Stark stood, nonchalantly, in his casual attire of dark jeans, a vintage band shirt and black sport's jacket. No sunglasses. They were tucked away in his breast pocket. He looked relatively unfrazzled, contrasting greatly against Peter's anxious manner and Pepper's startled face.

He raised his brows, pointing a single finger up. "Going up?"

Before either of them could tell him otherwise, Tony waltzed in, forcing Pepper and Peter to separate. Peter squeezed himself to the corner, pressing his shoulder blades into the small grooves between the panels.

The elevator doors closed. They were caught.

The ride seemed long and non-existent at the same time. Each tick of the clock dragged Peter further into a spiral of helpless and nervousness. He flicked his eyes between Tony and Pepper, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he waited for someone to start yelling. Waiting for Tony to lash out at him and threaten him. But no one said a word. Nothing was said. Pepper stared straight ahead, arms crossed and mouth in a taut frown. Tony stayed poised, but Peter noticed the set jaw and heard a sharp sniff as the elevator ascended into the clouds.

When they reached the top, a tingling sensation crawled all over him. His senses dialed up as the adults all shifted.

Tony side-stepped to make room for Pepper to leave first. "After you, honey."

Pepper strode right out, her heels clacking hard against the wood. Tony followed, as he urgently gestured for Peter to come along. Peter peeled himself off the wall and stepped out of the elevator too. Only once the door closed behind him, did the shouting begin.

Pepper went first. "Unbelievable!"

"Couldn't agree with you anymore," Tony remarked, his voice calm and a lighthearted smirk drew up on his face. "When did you get in? Just now?"

"I took the first plane out the second I learned about Peter," Pepper said, anger grilling her words. "No thanks to you."

The smile faded. "I was going to tell you—"

"No, you weren't!"

"Of course I was!" Tony defended, jaw twitching. "I had plans to call you the second things settled, and Peter was feeling better."

"That's a load of crap."

Tony irritably ran a hand through his hair and paced around the living room. A frustrated growl seethed between grinded teeth. "What? What do you want me to say?" he demanded. "That I'm lying? Because I'm not!"

The sharp tone shot old fears through Peter's head. The bad memory of Tony looming over him as he sentenced Peter to the Hole for eternity, seared back into his mind. Heart drummed to a warning. Senses attuned to the frizzled atmosphere between Tony and Pepper. A brewing of trauma and fear overwhelmed all his senses, triggering Peter to lurch forward and shield Pepper from the monster.

"Don't yell at her!"

"I'm not—" Tony stopped, took a breath, and quieted his voice. "No one is yelling. We're having a civil discussion."

Pepper scoffed, arms folding in front of her chest. "Like you even know what civility is," she said, stepping forward, unafraid of the dangerous man before them. "Maybe you're not lying, but you still hid the fact that Peter was alive. You knew for a month and never told me."

"I wasn't certain," Tony feebly insisted, "and I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"And what about Happy? Or Rhodey?" Pepper questioned. "You were okay with getting their hopes up? Because they care about the kid as much as I do, and yet they knew about Peter."

Peter heard the deep intake of breath from Tony. "They told you, huh? Which one?" he asked, but quickly dismissed it with a wave. "Never mind. It was Happy."

For a split second, Peter worried Happy may be in severe trouble. But the characteristically indifference Tony displayed eased that anxiety away. It appeared the revelation wasn't startling to Tony. Almost expected.

"Look—you're right. You have the right to be upset with me," Tony conceded with a general air of fatigue. Like he didn't like the idea of fighting any more than Pepper did. "I should have told you about Peter."

"Yes, you should've," Pepper agreed.

Tony raised his hands up in concession. "I know. I know," he nodded, taking a careful, considerate step to his fiancé. "Things are hectic right now. There are a lot of moving pieces and… and I didn't want to overwhelm Peter—"

Peter's eyebrows shot straight up. Overwhelm him? That's the lie Tony decided to use? Ridiculous! Tony didn't give a damn about overwhelming him this morning with talks about school, medical check-ups and other nonsense. Hell, he didn't mind overwhelming him by sending an entire army of enhanced humans after him, along with helicopters and guns. All bullshit! Tony's lie was too blatant to be taken seriously. Pepper wouldn't fall for an obvious lie. She was too intelligent to be undermined again.

"—I told you I was going to fix this," Tony said to Pepper, causing Peter to furrow his eyebrows in befuddlement.

Fix what exactly? The Decimation? The very thing he created—wanted? Peter looked to Pepper for a swift rebuke, but she remained silent and attentive. All Tony needed to keep talking.

"I promised that I was going to fix this, and I'm keeping my word," Tony avowed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Peter. It was wrong and I fucked up."

Pepper's unblinking eyes narrowed at Tony. Behind the glare, Peter noted the weariness. The disappointment in the man before her. It was the same old drama, and they were far too old to run the circle again.

"Thanks for the honesty. I know how difficult that is for you," Pepper said with an air of professionalism. "But I'm not changing my mind. I told you that the minute Peter got out of the Hole, I was taking him away. I'm keeping my promise." She turned to Peter and commanded, "Grab whatever you need. We're leaving."

Peter hadn't taken a step in any direction before Tony slid next him, snapping his finger in warning. "Hold up," he directed Peter before he focused on Pepper. "Pep—he can't travel. It's not good for him. He needs rest!"

"And he shall have plenty of it," Pepper returned. "Move aside, Tony."

"Pepper, please, wait… you can't do this!"

"I can and I will."

"I can't let you—"

Tony was silenced by the deathly glare Pepper sent his way. "Are you threatening me?"

"No! No, no—of course not, no," Tony bumbled, regretful of his word choices. "I meant… He's not well. Look at him! He's practically a scrawny ghost!"

Peter shrunk in on himself, eyes dropping to see his pale, boney fingers and thin frame. He looked less formidable than he did in his peak, when he was actively Spider-Man, swinging between buildings and saving people from dangerous thieves and out-of-control vehicles. Those days were long gone, and it showed in his lack of muscle definition in his arms. The lack of wind-swept hair, which made his hair curlier. The lack of friction burns from where his web-shooters used to rest against his wrists. Peter was a wasted version of Spider-Man. A poor illusion of the hero he once was.

Tony and Pepper continued arguing. Tony insisted Pepper concede to his decisions, but she stubbornly refused. She maintained her stance that Peter would leave with her. They were heading to California.

"He can't get on a plane!" Tony objected.

"We'll take a car!"

"Pep—"

"No Tony!" Pepper snapped, her cheeks flushed and eyes ablaze with newfound frustration. "You don't get to beg. Not after what you did to him." She jabbed her manicured finger right at Peter. "This boy is not yours! He's nineteen. He can go wherever he damn pleases!"

She steamrolled Tony, taking Peter's shoulder to push him back toward the elevator. Tony, however, snatched his arm, propelling back to his side.

"Peter isn't going anywhere!"

Something barreled into Peter like a hard punch to his chest, right in the ribcage. A direct hit that had him spinning. Dizziness overcame him. His lungs burned in his struggle to gasp for air. Smothered and winded. Memories flashed and blurred. Red dust laid at his feet. It shifted and moved below him. The ground sunk, swallowing him—

He needed to move. He needed to… to…

Peter scanned around, searching for an escape. He fumbled in his movements, hands desperately snatching to whatever he could to keep himself from sinking. He needed to move. Needed to run, or—

"Peter?" "Hey—Pete?" "Sweetheart?"

Ice touched the center of his forehead. He jerked, jolting up before cringing away from Tony's face that peered close to him. He scrambled backwards until his spine hit something soft. He looked behind him and discovered he was seated on the couch.

Tony tilted his head in concern, removing his hand from Peter's forehead to reveal a rag bundled with ice cubes. Pepper was a step away, arms wrapped around her torso. Her eyes worried.

"Peter?" Pepper whispered to him. "Are you there?"

Peter blinked. What happened? Did he disappear somewhere?

"A mild panic attack," Tony answered his unspoken questions. He gave one last examination before looking over his shoulder to Pepper. "He's going to be fine."

Tony put the rag back on Peter's forehead. Peter was too afraid to push it off and let Tony press the cold against him. "This is what I mean, Pep," he reiterated. "He's not well! He can't go off jetting to wherever! He needs to rest."

Pepper's glare zeroed on Tony. "He would feel more rested in LA than here."

"He doesn't want to leave New York!"

New York. Home.

After Titan. After the… the Decimation… Peter ventured back to Queens. Didn't know why. It was stupid. Pointless. Dangerous even. Yet, Peter wandered back to his neighborhood. Lured by a yearning of comfort he needed. He returned to the same streets. Saw familiar faces. Breathed in the city's smog. A relief compared to the stench of old sewer water.

But the happy relief died the longer he wandered the neighborhood. He stopped and sat on a bench. The silence filled him up, despite the busy streets, the chattering and honking of passing vehicles. And though it was August, the night wind was bitter. Peter wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm, but it did little. The cold nipped at his skin and clenched on his bones. His stomach rumbled. Hunger kicked in. There was no food around. No homecooked meals for him to pretend to enjoy. Nothing.

He took in the emptiness around him. There was no one next to him. No shoulder to lay his weary head upon. Aunt May no longer existed. Their apartment destroyed. Everyone believed him to be dead.

Fate, Peter realized, designed him to be alone.

Peter cried the hardest that night.

When all the tears spilled and dried, Peter returned to the sewers, resigned to life underground. It's where he belonged now. Spider-man and Peter Parker were dead. All he wanted now was to rest with his family.

But he couldn't. Especially not with Pepper's and Tony's voices bickering over their concerns. Peter didn't bother to listen. No matter who won, he would be forced to leave New York. Either to Cambridge or Los Angeles. Away from his family. Away from his friends. Away from everything he knew.

The elevator's arrival interrupted the argument and Tony glanced to see who arrived.

"Oh—Harley, there you are!"

Peter stiffened. He turned his neck sharply over the couch cushion to see Harley striding out of the elevator. Harley's eyes darted from Pepper to Tony to Peter and then back to Tony, confusion befuddling his face.

Tony removed the ice pack from Peter's forehead and rose from his squatted position. He laid a hand on Peter's shoulder, the grip reassuringly tight to keep Peter grounded.

"You two go downstairs for lunch," Tony ordered. "Pep and I need to talk privately."

"I'm not hungry."

It was an automatic response. Quick and flustered, and Peter's wide eyes looked from Tony to Pepper. Panic screamed inside his head. Deafening for him, but inaudible for everyone else.

Tony huffed a short laugh at Peter's rejection. "Of course, you are," he replied. "Starving to be exact. You'll feel better when you eat."

With a sudden burst of unknown energy, Peter shoved off Tony's hand and leapt to his feet. "I'm not hungry!"

Tony wrangled a brow up, surprised by the outburst. Harley more so by the outrageous look etched in his face. Peter stepped back, keeping himself out of Tony's grasp. But Tony didn't try to grab him again. He let his arm fall at his side and wore a strange expression.

"You need to eat," Tony reasoned, treating like Peter was having an absurd tantrum. "You nearly fainted a few minutes ago. Get some food and then we'll talk again."

Peter shook his head. He didn't want to eat. Or talk. Or go anywhere. He wanted to crawl back to his tunnels, curl up on the couch and lay there, deep underground and away from Tony's new world order. Disappear out of existence.

"Peter?"

Pepper was suddenly beside him. She managed to silently approach him, her hand giving a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. It loosened the tense muscles in his shoulders, slacking under Pepper's reassuring comfort. She lowered her head so that her eyes met his, speaking to him as if they were the only ones in the room.

"Go with Harley," she encouraged.

Peter shook his head again. It was too dangerous to leave Pepper alone with Tony. He may hurt her or make her disappear to prevent Peter from leaving the Tower. Just like he did to everyone else who got between him and Tony. He killed the Guardians and Dr. Strange when they tried to stop him from taking the gauntlet. He killed Captain America and the others because they hid Peter. And… and he killed Aunt May to secure Peter's place in the Tower forever.

Pepper may be Tony's fiancé, and they were in love, but Peter wouldn't underestimate how far Tony would go to get what he wanted. He already proved that mass murder was reasonable.

"I-I can stay," Peter offered. "I don't have to—"

Pepper cupped the side of his face, stopping Peter's frantic tremors. Her green eyes were kind and sympathetic, making Peter melt into her hold. His own gaze pleaded up at her, begging for her to leave with him.

"I know, I know, but nothing's going to happen," Pepper promised. "Right now, I'm more concerned about you. I'll feel better if I know you were getting something to eat while I wrap things up here."

It wouldn't make Peter feel any better. There was a low rumble humming in the back of his head. Constant and steady, making his spidey-sense prickle up in alert. Nothing dangerous, but the warning lingered. Peter sensed Tony watching him. He heard the man's sigh, the shifting of his feet as his patience dwindled in awaiting Peter to follow orders.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, grimacing as realized his predicament. He was a soldier now. And soldiers follow orders.

Reluctantly, Peter nodded, although it was stiff and there was pain behind his eyes when he looked to Pepper. She smiled, though it was neither warm nor disparaging. Only reflective and sad.

Pepper brushed back his hair from his forehead. "Save me a seat," she said, sounding more hopeful than Peter felt.

She shepherded Peter in the direction of the elevator. As he passed Tony, Peter lifted his head, and flashed a distrustful glare at the man. Tony feigned surprise by the quick fire in Peter's expression, but Peter knew it was an act. A way to look innocent in front of everyone, but he would never be innocent in Peter's eyes. They both knew it.

Peter dragged his feet to the elevator, heavy with the guilt of leaving Pepper to fight alone. He overheard Harley say something to Tony, confirming with, "Got it, boss!" Footsteps soon trailed behind Peter as he entered the elevator. He shuffled to the back and leaned against the wall as Harley stepped beside him. Peter heard Harley order FRIDAY to take them to the cafeteria. The doors slid shut and the elevator descended.

Nothing was said.

And then…

"What the hell was that all about?" Harley questioned, bewildered by the whole scene. "Why is everyone so… weird about you?"

Not the word Peter would have chosen. Controlling was more accurate. Pepper's defiance challenged Tony's control, his manipulations and lies slipping out of his grasp as Peter and Pepper teamed together. Separated, Tony could gain control again. Regain his footing and charm Pepper into believing him all over again like he did previously, when he told her Peter was a poor, orphan boy.

Peter didn't respond to Harley's inquiry nor looked in his direction. He stared straight ahead, hoping Pepper would keep her promise. That someone in this tower would be at his side, fighting for him.

He clung onto that hope, but the nagging buzz in his head never entirely faded away.

Pepper never came.

Peter searched. He checked every face as Harley dragged him from place to place, grunting in disdain by Peter's slow procession. He stared at every door, waiting with wrung anticipation of Pepper storming through the door to rescue him. It didn't happen. By the end of the day, Happy swung by, taking Peter off Harley's hands.

Peter studied Happy's restless face. The man didn't appear any different than normal. The slight annoyance he usually carried in his eyes were softer and even the normal scowl faded to a quiet frown. But Peter noted the man avoided eye contact with him. He wondered if the man got in trouble for alerting Pepper of Peter's return. Tony acted like it wasn't a big deal, but the master manipulator caused Peter to doubt. Perhaps Happy was in far more trouble than initially.

They returned to the penthouse. It was empty. No Pepper and no Tony. The stillness of the suite got under Peter's skin. An uneasiness squirmed in his stomach as he scanned every space, half-expecting for Tony to appear from the shadows.

Happy wasn't bothered at all by the eerie silence. He dropped Peter off and turned back to the elevator, wishing the kid a goodnight.

Peter snatched Happy's arm. "Where's everyone? Where's Pepper?"

Happy's shoulders fell a little, head bowed in some weird attempt to look comforting. "She's fine," he assured Peter. "They worked it out.

Peter stared at Happy with a puzzled look on his face. It was a long minute of Peter replaying the words in his head, taking them in, and accepting that Happy wasn't lying nor having a stroke. They worked it out. Worked out what? Peter panicked, looking to Happy for an explanation, but the former boxer didn't have the answer. Happy repeated his goodnights and left Peter to dwell alone in the penthouse.

Waiting hurt. Peter stayed coop-up in the bedroom. Pepper never came. Tony never returned. Peter paced, flattening the carpet under his feet while his hands fiddled together. Fingers clenched and unclenched in a quick rhythm. Head hurting from the growing void in the back of his skull. Something was going on. Something bad.

Waiting hurt. Another hour must have gone by. The sky changed. It got darker. Dark enough to hide life down below his glass prison. He stopped at the window, dropping his forehead against the cool glass. His forehead slid along the window as he drew in a tight breath, contemplating what happened between Tony and Pepper. What did Tony tell Pepper? What did he say to convince Pepper to believe him? To trust the liar again? And over Peter's own distress? Peter wanted to know, if only to counter it with truths.

Waiting hurt. All Peter thought about was what happens next? Pepper wanted to take him away. Tony wouldn't allow it. Happy said they worked it out. The unknown of such a decision about his life drew in a deep, painful suffering. He folded onto himself, holding tight to keep himself from breaking into pieces. If he cried or showed too much distraught, FRIDAY would rat him out. She tried to report his distress multiple times, but Peter stopped the AI from alerting Tony. FRIDAY was lenient and obeyed for now, how long could Peter prevent the AI from reporting back to Tony? Even that uncertainty left him feeling more knotted.

He hated waiting. Hated not knowing decisions that affected him the most. Hated being trapped in a room. Hated being monitored daily. Hated being dictated. Hated… he hated having no control! The familiar helplessness plagued him. Moments of being trapped, surrounded by silence and hurt, returned to him in a single storm. The remembrance of painfully watching the ones he loved most fade out of his life, being powerless to stop it… to fix it…

Peter's knees went weak and he slid down to the floor. Everything hurt. His throat constricted and his breathing became uneven. Senses dialed high, all the creaks and squalls and shrills rushed in his ears, blaring loud and pounding inside his skull. He felt smothered in his own skin. Feeling hot, he pulled at his shirt's collar, trying to breathe and alleviate the rising panic in his chest.

Breathe… breathe! Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't… breathe! Peter silently commanded himself. Take a breath.

Air struggled in and out of his body. A coiling pressure squeezed against his ribcage. God, he wanted to throw up.

"Peter—your heartrate is elevated along with your blood pressure," came FRIDAY's voice from all around him. "You are experiencing another panic attack. Would you like me to call Tony Stark?"

Peter's eyes almost bulged out from their sockets. "No! No, no, no… please." Not him, he beseechingly thought. If Tony saw him in such a state, everything would get worse.

"I am required to alert the medical team of any and all emerge—"

"I'm fine!" Peter gasped, choking on thin air. "I'm… I got it under control. I just need a minute. I'm fine. Don't—don't call anyone."

A long pause followed and Peter worried that FRIDAY chose that moment to ignore him. FRIDAY was not KAREN. She was loyal to Tony. Her protocols were set to protect and assist Tony Stark. Not Peter Parker. Though, Peter wondered what KAREN would do in his predicament. Probably alert Tony Stark too. She used to anyway. When he had nightmares of Ben's murder, she alerted Tony and Vision. Alerted anyone who was trusted and close by to help him cope with the trauma.

Now, there was no one.

The bedroom door flew open.

Peter startled, untangling himself to stand, but he didn't get far when Tony swept into the room. Immediately, Peter noticed Tony's expression. It wasn't anger or annoyance. It was something akin to resignation and definite.

"You're not going to Boston."

It was quick. No hesitation in its delivery. Tony turned right back out and closed the door behind him.

Peter stared, frozen mid-rise from the floor. What the hell just happened? Did… did he win the fight? No. Impossible. In the morning, Tony refused to compromise and reminded Peter that his college education was part of the plan. Always was. MIT was the plan. Peter didn't know what Tony meant by "the plan." They never discussed a plan. But when did Tony ever discuss anything with him? The man distracted Peter with lies and fake promises to subdue him into compliancy. There was no need to share his thoughts and goals to a boy who already looked at him through hero-worshipped eyes. More so now with the blinds lifted, the lies known.

The unexpected change flummoxed Peter. Tony spoke proudly of MIT. Before Peter learned the terrible truth, Tony insisted Peter attended MIT for undergraduate. He even jokingly threatened to bring professors over for dinner to meet and drill him. Tony was willing to pay Peter's tuition when reminded of Peter's humble finances, claiming that money shouldn't stop a genius from success.

Yet, Tony miraculously changed his mind and Peter realized it was all thanks to Pepper. What did Pepper do or say to get Tony to back down? More curious, where was Pepper?

The last thought broke the paralysis, and he went after Tony, catching him in the living room. "Where's Pepper?"

The question surprised Tony. "She's at her place."

Her place? Didn't she live in the penthouse with Tony? He remembered her living in the penthouse when he first came to the Tower. She had all her belongings at the Tower, calling it home when she said her final goodbye to him before everything exploded. Why would she have another home?

Tony noticed his perplexed expression. "She has her own place," he clarified, pausing for a breath, frowning. "We… um, she broke—we broke up. A few years ago, actually."

Peter took a moment, digesting the words. They broke up. Pepper and Tony were no longer engaged. No longer living together. But… no, that wasn't right. Harley said something earlier about her and Tony. Something that clearly identified the two as a couple.

A deep crevice formed between Peter's eyebrows, studying Tony's expression. The man must be lying. Peter would have read about their breakup in the news. Or heard about it from MJ and Ned. They would have reported to him if Pepper and Tony ended their relationship. The entire world would know about it!

Peter scanned the penthouse again. He noticed there was less artwork on the walls. The bookshelves slightly emptier. And if Peter checked Tony's closet, he wouldn't find any feminine clothes neatly stacked or hung in an organized manner. No dresses. No skirts. No stilettos.

Because Pepper Potts no longer lived in the penthouse.

A long sigh distracted Peter from his fumbling thoughts. He looked back to find Tony collapsed on the couch. The man gestured for Peter to take a seat on a nearby chair. Peter opted to stand. Tony shrugged, but didn't pester him on the little defiance.

"It was mutual. Or, well, mutual in the sense that I understood," Tony sounded solemn, looking forlorn by the memory of the moment. "I don't blame her. She made the right call and… anyway, she moved to LA. Decided to stay there. We do our best to work with each other in a professional capacity only, of course."

Peter remembered what Harley said earlier and the embarrassing attempts to schmoose Pepper. Harley's behavior pointed to Pepper and Tony still being a couple.

He wrung his hands, folding his arms over his chest. "Harley seems to think otherwise."

"That's probably because he doesn't know," Tony remarked. "No one knows."

"No one?"

"Well, besides you, Rhodey, Happy, and Reed… probably Sue too, for that matter," Tony listed off, grimacing when he said the woman's name. "We kept it out of the press. Didn't want it to be a distraction from more important things going on in the world, so… no. No one knows."

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes. No one knew because Tony didn't want the world to know of his duplicity. If the media discovered Tony and Pepper called off the engagement, they would dig. They would question and investigate and learn the truth behind Tony's persona image. Tony couldn't let the people know he was the reason the world collapsed.

Peter worked his jaw, thinking. "So—you need me to be quiet about this."

"It would be for the best, yes," Tony reluctantly admitted, "but not in the way you're thinking."

"You don't know what I'm thinking!" It was stupid to rise to the bait and Peter instantly regretted because Tony smiled.

"If you say so," was all Tony said before he pushed himself off the couch, straightening his back. "Did you eat something?"

Peter shot him a look. Why was the man so invested in getting him to eat?

"Didn't think so," Tony moved around the glass coffee table toward the kitchen. "C'mon! I'm thinking pizza."

Peter sat at the table with a large pizza box situated between him and Tony Stark. It was oddly reminiscent of the first time Peter sat down for dinner with Tony. The uneasiness, the bridling anger and the distrustful attitude toward the man were similar to what he felt back at the Compound when Tony lured him with food.

Not this time. Peter didn't reach for a single slice.

Tony didn't nag him on it. No offering or encouragement to take a bite. Nothing. The man grabbed his own slice and ate away. Peter watched Tony take another slice. No words were exchanged. Peter was aware Tony held out on speaking first. He was prompting Peter to initiate conversation between them. Begin the rebuilding of whatever relationship Tony envisioned, but Peter wasn't interested. He didn't want to partake in any mind games.

Peter went straight to the point. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry?" Tony asked, wiping his mouth with the provided pizza napkin.

"I'm not going to Boston anymore, so does that mean I—"

Tony interrupted with a loud sigh. "You're still going to MIT," he said, discarding the napkin. "Just remotely."

Peter deflated in his seat. He hoped the canceled move to Boston meant he no longer had to attend MIT. Not that Peter considered MIT an incompetent school. Hell—MIT was Peter's dream school before… well, before. Now, he wanted nothing to do with it. He would rather attend Columbia and be with Ned. Or go to Empire. Yet, Tony snatched that hope out of existence quick enough.

"Oh," was all Peter could offer.

"Yeah, it's online classes and video lectures, et cetera… et cetera," Tony rattled off, not thrilled by the idea of it. "But, I'm making arrangements to have a few professors come here for more hands-on studies with you in the lab. So, there's that at least.

"I know it's going to be boring," Tony added on, pushing the pizza box aside to leave a clear space between them. "All work and no play. Going to miss all the best parties. The fraternity rush (not that I think you would do it)—and the girls! With your face and charm, you'd have girls hanging off your arms."

The man chuckled as Peter ducked his head, stewing at the comment. He didn't care about the parties or the rushes or… well, he cared about girls. One girl. He thought of MJ and how devastated she looked when he walked away from her. Peter wished he did more for her. He thought back to the time they met again. When she appeared right behind Ned and her eyes turned as round as saucers when she saw him, almost instinctively believing ghosts were real. Then the surprise faded, and happy relief overwhelmed her. After she listened to Peter's tale, she became more intense. Angrier. Determined. She wanted the world to know what Tony Stark did, but Peter stopped her. He stopped her and Ned because he was afraid. Tony would kill them or throw them into the Hole to rot for the rest of their lives if they spoke out against him. Just like he did to Peter and the others.

Peter couldn't have that. He couldn't lose them. He told them to forget about it. To forget about him. Ned and MJ couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that, as Ned declared. So, Peter put up boundaries. Safety precautions to protect them, even if it meant he couldn't be with them all the time.

In the end, it was pointless. He lost them.

"Thinking about Michelle, huh?"

Peter snapped his head up so fast, he thought he heard a crack in his neck. Tony studied him with a sad contemplation drawn on his face.

"You know, you could call her?" Tony offered kindly, leaning back in his seat. "Invite her over even. Of course, she'll need to go through a lot of security clearances. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if she snuck something inside, but the invitation is extended. Ned too. I'm sure a computer brain like his would like a peek at the AI system."

The kindness turned like a knife into his gut. The offer of his friends tempted him to almost give in, but he remembered. He remembered all those other broken promises. The anger he tried to suppress inched its way to the surface. The anger from missing those he loved.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fists too hard. His teeth gritted together, straining himself from exploding. "Yeah, and we can have sleepovers and stay-up past midnight, playing nonstop video games and eating nothing but junk food and Red Bulls," Peter caustically mocked. "Hell, I can walk right out of the Tower too! Go catch a movie. Backpack around Europe. All those normal things!"

When Tony didn't say anything, Peter eyes burned as he hissed, "Yeah, your bullshitting has less effect on me nowadays. I know my place. You made that pretty loud and clear."

Tony opened his mouth to speak. "Pete—"

But Peter only shook his head, not interested. "Look—I don't want another fake apology. It means nothing and it won't do you any good either," he said, straightening up. "Just… get on with whatever it is you want to do. Not that I can stop you anyway. You, having the gauntlet and all—"

"I don't have the gauntlet."

Peter stilled. He sat completely numb, unable to believe it. Tony had the gauntlet. He picked it up from where Peter dropped it and used it against Dr. Strange and the Guardians of the Galaxy. Peter remembered it well. The whole scene replayed in his head every day, most vividly at night when he slept. Awake or asleep, his brain brought him back to those dark moments where Tony took the gauntlet and used it to burn the world around them.

Before Peter rebuked it, Tony spoke again. "I mean… I don't have access to it," he explained. "After, erm, after… I locked it away. It was too dangerous. Too powerful to ever be used. I made the decision to lock it away. Top security. Impossible to break into—well, almost impossible." He breathed deep, face becoming an iron mask, confident in his following statement. "It's safe and secured. Can't be used ever again by anybody."

Tony searched Peter's face, waiting for a reaction. Peter had nothing. Mind blank and words gone. He stared straight ahead, everything stuttering like a failing engine. Was Tony's words supposed to make Peter feel better? Was Peter supposed to be relieved that the gauntlet was unreachable? Never to be used by anyone? It didn't. I didn't make him feel anything.

Tony propped his elbows on the table, confliction in his eyes as he spoke in a sincere tone. "I assure you, it's completely secur—"

"I don't care."

He didn't. What did it matter to him if the gauntlet was locked away, never to be used again? The damage was already done.

"Peter—"

Peter flashed a dangerous glare at Tony. "Don't bother. I told you already. Your bullshit isn't effective on me," he said, hotly, and his mouth taut. "You know, Dr. Strange was right. You offer only oppression. You put a gun to everyone's head and pull the trigger on those who challenged you." Peter's body shook, all the anger sparking out of him. "And... and they told you the stones were dangerous! They warned you, but you didn't listen. You never listen! You think you know what's best and to hell with everyone else!"

Tony didn't contradict him. Didn't offer any rebuttal. He looked worn, a frown drawing his face long. There were heavy bags under his eyes and the deep stress lines embedded in his forehead that made Tony look completely drained. Being a dictator must be tiring, Peter sarcastically thought.

Peter ran his hands over his face and through his shorter hair, letting out a long exhaust. "You may not use the gauntlet again, but you don't really need to. You already have the world. You can do whatever you want," he said, somberly thinking of the those who died. "All I want to know is where I fit into all this. You said something about a plan. What is it? What do you want from me?"

Tony fell quiet. He tilted his head, studying Peter from across the table, his nonchalant expression unaltered by Peter's grilling. No anger or frustration or irritation. He stared at Peter with calm and patience not normally attributed to Tony Stark. It made Peter want to squirm in his seat, feeling unsettled like he walked into a trap of some sort.

The man suddenly smiled, ingratiatingly. "Like I told you the first time we met, Peter," Tony said, his focus latching on to Peter, enthralling him enough to keep Peter from looking away. "I want you to reach your full potential. Become something better."

Peter scrunched his face in disbelief. "What makes you think I want to?"

Tony laughed. The infuriating, cocky smirk returned. "Despite your objections, I know you. You and I," he gestured between them, "we're the same. We can't stop being who we are. And you—you can't let the bad things happen."

The man rose from his seat, taking the pizza box and putting it away. He left Peter in stunned silence, unsure how to process what Tony insinuated. Peter desperately wanted to argue. Deny everything said! He and Tony were nothing alike. Tony's a killer. Obsessed with power and an askew moral compass. Peter wasn't anything like that.

Peter admitted a lot of things have changed for him since that destined day. He wasn't the same person. Wasn't the same hero. He let the bad things happen. He let the worst thing happen.

He stopped being Peter Parker and Spider-Man that day.

"You're wrong," Peter finally said right as Tony trashed the empty box. The man glanced over at him, wrangling a brow up in contradiction. "You're wrong about me."

"I'm not," Tony dismissed Peter's insistence. "And deep down, you know that too."

Peter frowned, agitated by the dismissal as Tony walked pass and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Better head to bed," he suggested. "Pepper is going to come early in the morning to take you for the day."

Peter's mind stuttered. "W-what?"

"Pepper is coming here tomorrow morning," Tony repeated, sauntering in the direction to the bedrooms. "Probably around seven."

Peter twisted in his seat, brows knits in confusion. "I thought I wasn't allowed to see Pepper."

Tony tilted his head, eyes narrowed in perplexity. "Why did you think that? Of course, you can still visit Pepper. You're just not running off to LA anytime soon."

Peter digested this. "So… I'm not banned from seeing Pepper?"

"C'mon Underoos," Tony said, sounding a bit agitated by the insistent questioning. "You're not banned from seeing people. Like I said, you can invite your friends over. You can talk to them. Hang-out with them. You just can't disappear."

Disappear, Peter thought as he headed back to this gilded cage. He brushed his teeth and washed his face before climbing into his bed. FRIDAY turned off his lights, but Peter didn't close his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, his mind drifting off with that desire to disappear.

How many nights did he dream of disappearing alongside his aunt? He fell through a series of dreams where he died alongside his aunt and the Avengers. Or stealing the gauntlet from Tony and using it to stop him. Or never dropping the gauntlet after taking it from Thanos. Or… even dreaming of them never beating Thanos, letting the Titan win and cause full destruction. Even that alternate universe was better than the reality he lived.

He dreamed of those alternate realities, fantasized how that day could have been different. Such dreams made it difficult for him to sleep. He tossed and turned, heart racing at wishing for things to be different and his brain reminding him it never could. Fate was cruel to him.

Peter sunk into the pillow. He shut his eyes, pretending that the darkness enclosing him was his act of disappearing.

He sighed, lamenting. "But, I want to disappear."