This is very one-shot-esque, based on the events of Infinity War, so #InfinityWarSpoilers for anyone who hasn't seen it.

Entirely Tony & Peter

Literally made me sob in the theatre so just, you know, get ready.


O is for Obedience


He'd told him "no."

Simple as that.

No, Peter. Stay here, Peter.

Stay home, it's too dangerous.

You could get hurt.

But that kid didn't listen, did he?

He'd told him "no."

The ragged terrain stretched for miles in either direction. A shriveled rock, with its desolate mountains and pits, void of life - an empty planet in an empty universe. A vacuum within a vacuum. This place, with its history and lost inhabitants…it must have held so many memories, once upon a time. So many dreams.

How many babies had been born here?

How many wars waged? How many battles and fights and laughs and loves? How many songs and smiles had been shared in the night? How many hopes? How many fears?

How many people?

There must be so much of a past, so much of a history beneath this surface. There must be so much life….

Dead and buried in the dust.

Tony knew the wind was whipping at his skin.

Sand and debris pelted him like raindrops, abrading his face and grazing his split skin. He knew it – he knew it was there. He knew, logically, that it must sting. But he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel…anything.

There was Just…

Just the numb.

'Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good.'

Tony was motionless. Not crying, not speaking - just breathing steadily. Just breathing. One breath, then another.

Then another.

A small red blur appeared in his periphery, running from the gash on his forehead, making its way to his cheek. It skirted around his high cheekbones and dipped into the contour of his jaw, sliding effortlessly toward a precipice that could not support its weight. The drop hung off Tony's chin, its grip waning, straining, stretching, for as long as it could, until finally -

'You're okay, you're okay.'

The blood met the sand without calamity. Such a brave droplet, one that had taken such a journey – yet it was consumed by this place, all the same. Tony stared at it, watching it fade - powerless to stop it. He could have slit his wrists and let himself pour into the desert, but even that wouldn't have quenched the ground's thirst.

It wouldn't have saved that one, single drop.

'I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark. Please, I don't wanna go – I don't –,'

Tony couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to move a single muscle. His eyes were fixed, his breaths shallow and slow, his tongue frozen to the roof of his mouth.

Everything in his world had just imploded. Everything.

But if he kept still – so very, very still - he could watch it implode in slow motion. He could try to navigate through it – he could use his brain to find a pathway back in time – he could reverse-engineer the problem, to put everything back together again so that…so that everything would go back to when…

Suddenly, Tony blinked.

He didn't mean to – he didn't mean to blink, he was trying so hard not to, it just – it just happened. No, no, no, he can't blink. He can't move. He needs to stop, he needs nothing to change, he needs time, that's all! Time to fix everything, time to figure it out, like he always does. Nothing can move from this point on, nothing can change. If we break it – if we ruin the freeze frame, then how are we supposed to get it all back – we can't just let it all go forward – we can't just–

We can't just let him be gone.

Tony closed his eyes.

Tears hadn't come yet. Maybe they never would. Or maybe his body would be ripped apart by sobs until his ribs cracked and his eyes ran dry.

Both? Neither?

He didn't care either way.

Tony Stark has lived a great many lifetimes in a short number of years. So many memories, so many nightmares; he has a brain riddled with things that no person should ever have to see.

'I'm sorry.'

Behind his eyelids, memories danced like flames:

Children ripped away from their parents. Innocent people beaten within an inch of their lives. Shot, starved, abandoned human beings, desperate for aid, being met with violence. Friends, colleagues, teammates – murdered, mangled, and martyred.

He's watched his loved ones, people he held most dear, die right in front of him. He has seen genocide, hatred, bigotry, greed, and betrayal.

He has seen hell.

But Tony Stark had never seen this.

'Mr. Stark?'

His eyes opened slowly, weighted with the painful reality of the things in front of him… and those not in front of him.

He took it all in: the terrain, the stars, the sun – all unfamiliar and strange, all foreign, and all terrifyingly discomforting.

These were the last things Peter Parker ever saw.

The realization struck Tony like a blow to the chest, and he staggered off his perch. The irony tasted bitter in his mouth, and his shoulders drew themselves in, a sharp exhale passing his cracked lips, followed by a shaky draw of air. His waxen face contorted in pain. His ribs seemed uncertain, his chest unable to remember the feeling of an easy breath. He tried to steady himself, to regain control, but the horrific truth tore blindly through his mind.

In an unfamiliar and terrifying place, a boy had become a man just in time to die.

'I don't feel so good.'

Tony's eyes closed once more. If he had ever thought the universe was laughing at him, he now knew better. The universe didn't care. It didn't care about anything. How could it? With all its multitudes and probabilities, all its cosmic schemes and parallel selves – it didn't have the time. Stephen Strange had known that before he died; in fact, he had tried to get Tony to realize it, in a way. But that Tony wasn't this Tony. This Tony understood all too well, now. Strange had said there was only one way to win – one single probability in all of existence.

Stephen Strange had known what it was, and what it meant. The price of victory was the magician's own death, and the deaths of countless others. So, so many people. So, so many living beings in the whole of the cosmos.

But apparently not Tony.

It was a fifty-fifty shot on every soul in the universe, and once again, Tony Stark seemed to have survived. He beat the odds. He came out on top. Again.

Tony survived.

Again.

'Mr. Stark?'

That's when it snapped.

The implosion - it snapped.

The last tether to the reality Tony had known before today - it snapped.

It was like the earth had split in two. Some molten fury, long dormant in its deep and dark hiding place, had come crashing upwards, spilling violently overtop its cage walls. Tidal wave after tidal wave of rage slammed into Tony, hammering him from all sides while he was powerless to raise even a hand against it. His mind was crumbling, the enterprises and achievements of a lifetime reduced to ash, his mind and all its genius turning to rot. His hands shook, and he balled his fists until the cartilage in his knuckles popped and his nails drew blood from his palms. Tony's eyes squeezed so tightly shut that colors burst and blood vessels popped behind their lids. His body was wracked with heaves and gasps, his shoulders contorting until he thought his spine would surely snap in half. This was suffering of the highest caliber for which there truly is no name. Agony seemed too small. Torture, too impermanent.

There was no word for this pain.

He wanted to scream until his throat bled and his body was blackened and burnt. He wanted to cry out, for Pepper, for Peter, for Steve, for his mother. He wanted to wail and writhe until his bones broke and his heart stopped. He wanted to weep.

But he never spoke. He never made a sound.

He couldn't.

'Mr. Stark?'

Tony couldn't bring himself to utter a single word. He couldn't allow himself to shatter the silence. Not since Peter…since he had left. Peter's words needed to be the last words ever spoken - the last ones ever murmured so that no one…so that no one would ever forget him.

So that he wouldn't be gone, another soul taken by this place.

So that he wouldn't be lost.

"I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark. Please."

Tony jumped.

His voice was so real that time. So close, so real in his mind. It caught the engineer by surprise, and before he could stop himself, Tony was on his feet, an unsteady, broken man, eyes glassy and feverish, pining with crazed fervor over an empty landscape.

"Peter?! PETER?!" He turned, desperate, searching, spinning. Until he froze.

Before he saw the red dust at his feet, before he saw the barren wasteland before him…

…He saw nothing but that goddammed innocent kid stumbling towards him, wide-eyed and so scared, reaching out to the only familiar thing in this entire, godforsaken place.

And the last, little bit of Tony Stark that was holding the rest of him together…it crumbled. Reality and fantasy were one in the same. There were no lines, there was no implosion, there was no vacuum.

There was Peter.

Staring at him, begging him, pleading with him to fix everything.

"I don't feel so good."

"God, no," Tony collapsed to his knees. "Please," he could hardly spit the words from his mouth. "Please, not again, Peter, I can't-"

"Mr. Stark, Please – "

The engineer crumpled, desperately slamming his head with his hand, trying to restore his senses, to stop this nightmarish replay, to protect himself from watching it happen all over again. "No, no," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "Oh god, no.."

"I'm sorry."

Tony's face contorted in pain, and he couldn't stop himself from giving in - from talking to the boy; he reached out one weak arm to the teenager, dejectedly, beckoning, his voice barely a whisper above the wind. "Peter...there was nothing I could– You were just gone and how am I – I don't know what – Please, Peter, please come back, I'll do better, I'll watch out for you, I'll be better, I'll –,"

"I'm sorry."

He hung his head, sick to his stomach. "Don't say that, Pete. Don't say that. Oh, god, please – don't." Tony drew in another breath, even sharper. He didn't understand what was happening in his mind. He didn't bother to try.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Oh, God, Peter-" he brought his watery brown eyes up, lifting his head as if it weighed a ton. "You…you were so brave." Tony's exhale hurt even more than the inhale, now. He couldn't register anything other than this pain in his chest. "You were – god, you were so brave, kid – and I – I'm so – "

That's when the tears started to fall. They just fell. There were no rolling drops, no lonely tears snaking their way down a grimy face. They just fell. A steady stream of pure grief and a wrecked soul. Tony let out a huff, starting to breathe faster and heavier now. His breaths were picking up pace, and his worst fear was coming to pass: reality had him pinned to the floor while the room steadily flooded. He was going to drown. He swung his head down, eyes teary and bulging from the sheer strain of filling his lungs. he clenched his teeth, ignoring the copper taste in his mouth, as he tried to pull himself together.

He lifted his gaze once more, trying to explain to-

Tony was met with an empty landscape.

"GOD – Oh, GOD." Tony was blankly staring at the place Peter had been mere moments before. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and he made it several steps back, trying desperately to get away, until small black dots crowded his vision and he stumbled to the dirt, still crawling backwards, tears ever-falling. Tony didn't realize until he felt soft dirt up against his back that he was laying next to the exact spot where it had happened.

He was sitting next to the only imprint left of Peter's body, pressed into the bank.

His eyes couldn't leave the impression.

"God, Peter…" He choked. "I'm so sorry, I can't bring you – I don't know how. I don't know how. I don't…I don't understand why. And why you…why didn't you listen to me…" Tony began to weep, his whole body wracked with wave after wave of pain. His hands found his face and he buried himself in them.

Pain and regret.

"Why?" He lifted his face to the sky.

Pain and regret and anger.

"WHY!?"

So much anger.

Tony spun to face the embankment, to face the last place Peter had ever existed in this world. He could see the boy's face, see his fear. Tony felt responsible – he knew he was responsible. Peter was his charge, his duty, his student – but the boy hadn't trusted him to know what was best. He had disobeyed. He had done exactly what Tony would have done.

And clear as day, Tony could hear his their own conversation not too long ago.

Peter had stood so righteously, so naively noble, looking shellshocked while Tony had reprimanded him.

"No, this is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking!" Stark spun on his heels. "What if somebody had died tonight? Huh?" Tony felt a flicker of guilt when Peter's eyes shot to the floor, ashamed, but he knew Peter needed to hear this - he needed to learn this the easy way rather than...well, rather than how Tony had had to learn it. "Different story, right? 'Cause that's on you." He pointed sharply at Peter's chest. "And if you died," Tony's throat tightened at the mere thought. "I feel like that's on me. And I don't need that on my conscience."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry. I understand." His voice grew unsure. "I just - I just wanted to be like you."

Peter's eyes were so wide, so trusting. Tony could have handled that so much better - could have treated it as a learning moment. But instead, he let his fear get the best of him.

"And I wanted you to be better."

He remembered watching Peter's face drop completely, the spark in his eyes flickering out. Tony had regretted those words instantly. He didn't need to project that onto a kid - did't need to be that cruel.

But that was then, and this was now.

And actually losing him felt even worse than he'd ever imagined.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?!" Tony demanded of the empty space before him. "WHY DIDN'T YOU EVER FUCKING LISTEN TO ME?!"

In logical thought, Tony knew there would have been no difference – Peter would have disappeared anyway. Thanos had snapped his fingers, and it was the luck of the draw. But in Tony's mind, if Peter had stayed on earth – if he had stayed behind, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Thanos would have lost, and Tony would have grabbed the gauntlet in time, and Strange would have seen a different outcome, and that Starlord prick wouldn't have botched the whole operation, and…and…

…and at the very least, if they had still failed, maybe Peter would have been surrounded by friends and family.

Maybe he wouldn't have looked so scared, in the end.

And Tony wouldn't have had to watch him die.

"YOU STUPID, RECKLESS, FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!"

Tony was on his feet again, staggering senselessly, kicking and punching at the air. Dirt went flying, and honestly, Tony wasn't sure if he was talking to Peter or himself, but he didn't care.

He was enraged, he was devastated, he was broken.

"ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN TO ME."

'I'm sorry.'

"NO! NO. DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING APOLOGIZE TO ME. YOU DON'T GET TO APOLOGIZE TO ME."

The world was swimming, Tony didn't know where he was headed, but he found himself propped up against the dirt bank, laying, once again, next to the final imprint that Peter's body had made before it had vanished.

The last shred of evidence that proved Peter Parker existed…and that Tony Stark had held him as he died.

Stark threw his head back, unable to form real thoughts and words, but also unable to stop them leaving his lips. He felt less rage now, less anguish, just…

…just less.

"Don't you…" He fell weakly to one side, sliding down the dirt bank. "Don't you do this to me." He tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat, but his mouth was too dry to muster any moisture. "I should….I should be the one…"

'Mr. Stark?'

"Just…no…don't you…not you, Pete. Peter….god, no…" his hands snaked through his blood-matted hair, his skin dirty and his face drawn. "Peter…"

Tears mingled with sweat, and blood mingled with the red dirt, and Tony Stark finally allowed himself to surrender completely to the landscape. He laid back completely limp, limbs like lead, withering and forfeiting to the dust.

He broke. He snapped. This was it, after a lifetime of uphill battles and scars, this was the last straw. Raise the white flag.

There was no numbness anymore - not from lack of feeling, anyway. Rather, he let it all in. He let it all in and didn't make a single move or single sound to stop it. The sheer overwhelming amount of raw, unadulterated emotion roiled through him like a blender.

It was a whole new brand of nothingness. Too much of everything, and suddenly, you can't feel any of it.

"Peter." He whispered, almost pleading, his eyes glassy. "Please come back?"

'I'm sorry.'

Tony tried his best to give a comforting smile, closing his brown eyes and seeing Peter in front of him, floppy hair and lanky build, his eyes looking frightened but bright with the admiration he held for his hero.

"It's ok, Pete. We did our best. And you? You were so brave, Peter. So brave, you have no idea."

'I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark.'

"I know, kid, I know. But its all gonna be over soon," Tony's voice cracked. "And then it will be fine. I've got you, You're okay."

'I don't wanna go.'

"I don't want you to go, either. But –" The wind whipped up again, battering Tony's bruised body and sending a shiver through him. "but Pete, you gotta know kid, before you – before you go-"

'I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark, Please-'

Tony choked again, tears coming harder know, his voice even less sturdy. "I know, I know. But you have to – I can't save you, not this time, kid. Not this time."

'Mr. Stark?'

"Peter I'm so proud of you. So proud of you. You..." Tony laid his head further into the bank, the sand folding round his head mercifully, cradling him, quieting the world. "You made the decision to be a hero, and you were – you are."

There was a quiet now – a peace. Even the wind went still as Tony continued to speak, ever softer, ever more at ease.

"And I'm so proud of you. I've never been so proud of anyone, Pete – you're the best thing I could have asked for, the closest thing to a son I ever had, kid, and I should have told you – god, I should have told you so many times. But there it is, kid. And-" Tony swallowed, his eyes shutting, accepting the end. "-And I love you, Peter. I wanted to see you grow, to grow up and have an amazing life, I had so many things left to show you, to teach you, to give you…so many plans…"

The winds shuffled, swirling the dust gently.

"But sometimes, we lose. Sometimes the good guys lose." He paused. "Do you understand, Pete?" It was hardly a whisper now, his voice nothing but a shattered breath, blending into he breeze.

He waited for a response.

"Peter?"

Tony's voice hitched. "…Pete?"

"Peter, please don't leave me." Tony felt one more tear caress his face. "Not again."

But the wind returned, as it always must, carrying with it the bronze sand and the memories of millions, lost to time and fate. It whipped around Tony with a newfound ferocity, mercifully carrying with it his blood and sweat, and cruelly shuffling the surrounding soil to disguise a single, treasured imprint in the dirt. The engineer watched stared blankly as Peter's last resting place was strewn to the unforgiving tide of the future, disappearing just as easily as its owner.

Once again, Tony Stark was simply left to witness, to grieve, and to remember.

Alone.


Fin


scuze me while I go cry myself to sleep 3

sorry this was super depressing, but definitely the last infinity war cannon piece I will do, the next chapter returns right away to full team status, cannon be damned. Thanks everyone, and I hope you liked this update! the P chapter is way more my usual thing, but I felt like I needed to write this one? That scene has been killing me for weeks now, so this was really therapeutic for me.