Peter stumbled out of the police station. His ears were buzzing with Dutch he definitely couldn't understand. He didn't even know where he was. He just hoped Beck wouldn't find him.
He struggled into the football jersey those guys had given him, trying not to let his guard down as he did it.
Everything hurt. He really knew what people meant when they said it felt like they got hit by a truck. A train was probably worse, right?
His head throbbed. The sunlight felt completely blinding. The noise of people in the street, deafening.
He crossed over to a farmer who seemed nice. "Excuse me, sir? Can I borrow your phone?"
Peter heard the quinjet approaching before he saw it. It made him jump at first, it could have been Beck for all he knew.
He limped out to the tulip field the jet landed in, praying that it was actually Happy inside. When the ramp came down, someone who was most definitely not Happy walked down it. Peter froze halfway through the field.
It was Tony. Or, it looked like Tony. Peter felt like he was going to cry. He didn't have the energy to face Beck again, not yet. He started walking again, frustration building inside of him. Why did Beck have to torture him like this? Hadn't he already done enough?
As he slowly walked closer, he saw Tony looking at him with concern. "Peter, what happened?"
Peter only grew more frustrated, "I know it's you, Beck, you can't trick me like this."
Now Beck looked confused. He was nailing Tony's expressions so perfectly, it was throwing Peter off. His spidey senses weren't tingling, but they never would around Tony.
"Just drop the illusion," Peter yelled, "stop messing with my head!"
"Kid, I'm not Beck, it's really me," Tony said, pleading with him.
"Tony's dead!" Peter yelled, partially to remind himself. "I saw him die."
"Pete, I didn't die," Tony said, his tone sounding a little more desperate. "What can I do to make you believe it's me?"
Peter paused.
"Tell me something only you would know," he finally said.
Tony looked thoughtful, "When we first met, when I brought you to Germany, you tried to get out of it by telling me you had homework."
Peter stared at him, starting to wonder if it really could be Tony.
He shook his head, "it can't be Tony, I know it can't." His resolve was cracking, "You died," he said, "I saw you die. I went to your funeral." Saying it out loud felt like a stab to the chest. It couldn't be him, it couldn't.
Tony took a step forward, but Peter took a step back, still unwilling to believe it really could be Iron Man himself, back in the flesh. The man looked so hurt by Peter's doubt, that he almost regretted stepping back, but he just couldn't risk it being Beck, no matter how badly he wanted Tony back. It was like a dream and a nightmare wrapped up in one. All he wanted was for Tony to still be alive, but the tease, seeing him but being unable to trust that he was really there, was torture.
"Kid…" Tony started. "It was Strange," he finally said. "When he took me off the battlefield, he brought me to the Sanctum. I don't know exactly what he did, but it worked, I'm here."
Peter felt tears stinging in his eyes. He hated it, hated that he was this gullible, that he was starting to really think it was Tony, but it seemed so much like him.
"Why did we have a funeral if you weren't dead? Doctor Strange was there. Why wouldn't he tell us that you were alive?"
Tony shrugged, "he still didn't know if I was going to make it. He hadn't even told anyone what he was doing yet, he just let you all think I was dead."
Peter still couldn't comprehend what was happening. His head was swimming, he had to have a concussion. "Who knows you're alive?"
"Pepper, Morgan, Happy, Rhodey, now you. That's it."
"I still don't know if I can trust you," Peter said softly. He felt like he was being torn apart. He so badly wanted it—needed it to be Tony, but he felt like he couldn't even trust himself anymore. "I don't know what to do."
Tony looked hesitant. "I can show you something… something that Beck has no way of knowing about."
Peter's eyebrows scrunched together, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Tony looked uncomfortable, an expression Peter never thought he would see on the man. "When Strange saved my life, he fixed me up pretty good, but he couldn't fix everything." Tony pushed the right sleeve of his sweatshirt up to reveal an arm made of titanium, not flesh. "I haven't quite figured out this whole prosthetic thing out yet, but—"
Before Tony could finish, Peter was hurling himself at him. He crashed into him with a wild embrace, so relieved and excited, it surprised them both.
Peter wasn't exactly sure why that last detail was what made him realize that this was really Tony, but he was sure now, without a shadow of a doubt.
"I've been wanting to do this for so long," Tony said, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "I've missed you so much. It's been killing me to know that you've still been out there thinking I was dead this whole time, but it wasn't safe to let you know I was alive. I didn't want to put you in any more danger."
They pulled apart for a moment. Tony surveyed Peter's face, taking in just how beat up it was. "Geez, kid, let's get you cleaned up a little."
With that, they entered the quinjet.
Peter was crying freely now. All of the pent up emotions from his fight with Beck breaking loose. Everything hurt, but Tony was back. Tony was back. It felt like he was dreaming. He had longed for this since the moment Tony died, but it had seemed impossible. As impossible as being reunited with Ben or his parents.
Peter sat on one of the jet's upholstered seats as Tony pulled out a med kit.
"Kid, what happened to you?" Tony asked.
Peter sniffed, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. "I… I was fighting Mysterio and… he was manipulating me. I couldn't tell what was real. Nothing made sense. I saw your grave and Michelle dying and then I fell in front of a train-"
"A real train?" Tony interrupted.
"Yeah…" Peter replied, unsure what else he should say.
"You got hit by a train?!" Tony's outrage was palpable. "That son of a bitch is going down." He looked back down at Peter. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there to help you. I'm not really supposed to be here now if we're being honest, but when have I ever done what I was supposed to do?" he smiled wryly.
Peter laughed a little. "I'm just so happy you're alive," he said. "I don't think I've really processed it yet."
Tony helped ease Peter out of the football jersey. "Friday, run a full body scan on Peter."
After a moment, Friday confirmed, "Full diagnostic complete. Major injuries include a concussion, broken right fibula, cracked and broken ribs, and a deep gash along the left side of the thoracic spine."
Tony winced at the list, "geez, kid." He gently pulled up the back of Peter's black t-shirt to inspect his back. "I'm going to have to stitch this one up," he said.
Peter just nodded silently. The adrenaline from discovering that Tony was alive was quickly fading and the pain was beginning to pulse throughout his entire body.
As Tony prepared the needle and thread, Peter sighed. "I screwed up so bad, Mr. Stark. I gave Edith to Beck and now he's going to kill all of my friends." He groaned, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head drop into his hands. "I really failed you."
Tony paused. "Peter…" he started. "You could never fail me, you know that, right?"
Peter didn't respond.
Tony abandoned the med kit and sat down in the seat across from him. "Look at me kid," he said quietly.
Peter raised his head up, eyes red and puffy, face sticky with blood and dark with bruises.
It took effort for Tony not to jump up right then and head off to kill Beck with his bare hands. Peter looked so hurt, inside and out, that it made Tony's anger simmer. He swallowed it back, focusing on his kid. "I really don't care how badly you screw up, Peter. You'll always have me to back you up. No matter what. There's nothing you could do to make me love you any less."
Peter just stared at him, looking a little shocked.
"I know I never talked like this before… before everything with Thanos, but spending almost six years without you just made me realize that I have to tell you what I'm thinking or you're never going to hear it."
A hiccup escaped Peter's lips as he tried to keep from crying more. "I've been so lost without you," he said.
Tony leaned forward to hug him again, silently expressing his apology.
When he sat up again, he looked Peter in the eyes. "Now we're going to fix you up, and you're going to make a plan."
"Me?" Peter asked.
"Yes, you. As much as I want to finish this fight for you, I can't, but I know you can do it yourself."
Peter started to protest.
"Nope," Tony said, holding a finger up. "You got this Spider-Man, I trust you."