A/N: This chapter turned into an absolute beast. I hope you enjoy it!
When the news broke, Ned practically threw his popcorn to the side and dropped the carefully put together section of his Lego set. Ignoring the pieces that chipped off with the impact, he asked, "Mom, where is that?"
"Hmm? Oh, honey, I don't know, Indiana I think? A plane went down." She went to change the channel, probably to spare his delicate sensibilities.
"No, don't!" he yelled. She put the remote down and turned towards him sternly. "Please," he amended. "Did it say where it was coming from? Or going to?"
"I don't think they've figured it out yet, kiddo. Why?"
"Mom, Peter's flying today. He's going to tour Northwestern, remember?" He stared at the helicopter footage of the crash. A smoke pillar clawed at the sky, flaming wreckage piled beneath it, and Ned couldn't help but imagine his friend buried beneath it, metal singeing his skin. Don't be stupid. Hundreds of planes fly every day, probably thousands. There's no way Peter's dying in a field in Indiana. He's Spider-Man. He resolutely ignored the part of his brain that was screaming that there was nothing Spider-Man could do against tons and tons of free-falling metal, that he'd already failed to stop a plane crash once. That he probably didn't even have his suit.
"As of right now, we are still trying to figure out the flight number, but from footage of the crash as it happened, we can determine that the plane was coming from the east or northeast from a large airport, possibly in Philadelphia, New York, or Virginia. It is likely the plane carried over one hundred passengers, but as of now, no numbers have been confirmed. We will keep you all updated as more information gets uncovered. We are hoping we will have more answers after the commercial break." The broadcast faded out.
Ned paled, blinked. "Mom."
"Ned, hon. We don't know anything; he might not even be there. When's his flight?"
"I don't… I don't know the exact time, but he told me they were taking off like, an hour ago! It could be him, mom. Indiana is right in the middle of New York and Chicago."
"We don't know anything, hon. Let's just wait. Not everything is going to go wrong. It's so much more likely he's totally fine."
Ned nodded, but tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill over. His eyes were locked on the TV screen, even as it showed a commercial for paper towels or whatever the hell. He couldn't help but think back to Peter after Homecoming, after that building fell on top of him and he brought that plane down. Or Peter at six years old, confused and terrified after his parents had died after their airplane went down, after he'd suddenly had to move to a new school, Ned's school. He remembered wondering what it would be like to have someone in his family die that way. He couldn't have imagined.
"Based on drone footage and confirmation from Southwest airlines, we can confirm that the downed airplane is flight 2764 which was downed on its route from New York's own LaGuardia airport to Chicago O'Hare."
Well, he couldn't have imagined until now.
Ned's mother knew from his gasp alone. She vaulted herself off the couch to sit in front of him, taking his hand in hers. "Are you sure it's his flight, honey?"
Ned nodded. He was sure enough. He knew Peter was flying Southwest, that he was going from LaGuardia to O'Hare, that he was flying right now and would probably be over Indiana right now. "Oh, hon," his mom held him tight.
And Ned let her. He was still glued to the news, searching the footage for any sign of… of anything. But how could anyone be left alive under all that fire and smoke and hunks of twisted metal? He knew he had to just wait and-
Oh wait. No he didn't. "Mom, I have to… I have to um… be in my room. Alone," he said shakily. He wiped the tears from his eyes.
She looked back sympathetically, as if unsure what to do. "O-okay, hon. I'll tell you if we learn anything new."
He nodded before practically flying to his room and closing the door. He said to himself, "Okay, think, Ned. Think." How would he get ahold of Tony Stark? Against his will, his thoughts strayed to where all of this started in the first place.
"Ned, Ned, guess what?" Peter asked.
"What? Is it y'know, internship business?" Ned asked quietly, eyes bright with curiosity.
Peter rolled his eyes. "No, it's like, college stuff."
"Oh. Well, that's cool too."
"Yeah, it is. May got me a ticket to go tour Northwestern! They have, like, one of the best chemistry programs in the world, and they're really good for engineering too, and everything else I'm interested in!"
"Whoa, dude, no way! That's awesome! I thought you weren't going to get to go on any out of state tours, how'd she swing that?"
"She's been saving up for like, months, and she's working extra shifts, and she can't come because she has to keep working, but I'm still going to go, and I mean I'm nervous about taking a plane so far away by myself, but it'll be super cool! I've never even been to Chicago, and I'm not even sure I want to go there, but she says it'd be good for me to get out of New York anyway."
"Peter, why didn't you just ask Mr. Stark?"
"Dude, I'm not going to ask him, that's just like, not cool! And May worked so hard for this, and I know she doesn't want to ask either," Peter had responded, and Ned had understood. Asking for help was akin to asking for charity, and even though Tony had money to buy Northwestern if he wanted, it just wasn't a comfortable thing to do.
Well, he was going to ask now. But how? Quickly, he opened his laptop and pulled up the page for Stark Industries. There had to be… somewhere… and there it was, gleaming like a beacon. A bright blue link that read "Contact Us." He clicked it, then the email button, and then… what on Earth could he say? There was no way he was going to reach Mr. Stark anyway.
But he had to try. He logged into his secondary email address (there was no way he was emailing as Ned Leeds, it'd be too easy to identify Peter that way), and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. What the hell should he say?
"Mom? Anything?" he yelled desperately.
"No, honey, I'm so sorry," she said in that sympathetic tone that just screamed how much she thought Peter was dead.
"Okay," he responded, voice thick. "Okay." He started typing.
Pepper had always said it'd be a cold day in hell when she read her own emails. More specifically, the "Contact Us" emails sent in by fans, trolls, and once in a while, valid business offers. But apparently, that day was today. Almost the entire public relations department was working overtime dealing with the fallout over the latest large-scale crisis (god forbid people wake up and realize that Iron Man was actually helping the world, although she would have to pester Tony about giving a public apology for the accidental explosion. At least nobody had been hurt.) To make matters worse, her personal assistant had called out with food poisoning, and a few other interns had had to leave to check on family after the news of the Indiana plane crash had broken. So, here she was, parsing through the thousands of messages that had come through just this week, searching for anything that was actually worth her time.
After selectively deleting everything that contained the words "kill," "love," "Merchant of Death," and "internship" (it was common that young students asked about internships, but there had been a significant uptick recently after a particularly persistent high schooler apparently made it his day job to obsessively type messages full of annoying questions), she began to open them one by one.
Pepper breezed through a couple simple ones ("When could I meet Tony Stark?" "If I have anything to say about it, it'll be Iron Man's last day." Good stuff like that) before putting her head in her hands, messing up her bangs. Sometimes, despite all the good he did, she wished Tony had never become Iron Man, that he'd never decided to risk his life day in and day out. Of course, she was glad Stark Industries wasn't a weapons company anymore (if it was, she may have quit by now, regardless of how much of a crush she'd had on Tony at the time), but her heart ached for the Tony before Afghanistan, before he went through terrible things that Pepper still didn't know the whole of.
She heard the intrusive ding of a new email coming in and let out a frustrated groan. She considered closing out of the window entirely and waiting for the PR team to be free, but then she'd have to do other work she'd somehow been dreading more.
Finally, she looked up at the inbox. The subject line "URGENT! SPIDERMAN!" jumped out at her, sent from the email account "guyinthechair ." Curiosity getting the better of her, she opened it.
Dear whom it may concern,
I'm Spider-man's guy in the chair, like, his super cool partner, and I happen to know there's a good chance he was stuck on that plane that crashed, and if whoever reads this could alert Mr. Stark, please? He's my best friend, and I haven't heard from him, and well that's kind of it. But please tell him. PLEASE SAVE SPIDERMAN!
Sincerely,
Guy in the Chair
Pepper blinked in shock. Peter was on that plane? Her heart raced. The kid had done so much for Tony, and he was such a sweetheart. She couldn't imagine him on that plane, terrified as it nose-dived to the earth. It was probably nothing, she reminded herself; they got these emails all the time. Fake threats calling for the Avengers to help against some imaginary foe. But what if this wasn't that? What if he was really flying to Chicago for some reason? Tony would never forgive her if she said nothing and it turned out to be true.
Pepper stood and grabbed her phone. She speed dialed Tony and listened to the harsh, blinking tone for a mere second before rushing out of her office. The click of her heels echoed through the halls; she resisted breaking into a run towards Tony's lab (that's where he must be, he had to be there, for Peter's sake). If she believed in God, she would be praying right now, praying that he'd pick up the goddamn phone. But it rang, rang, rang until the telltale sound of his voicemail sounded in her ear. She ended the call angrily.
After what felt like far too long, she'd made it to the elevator that would give her access to the private floors, the living quarters of Avengers Tower.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Potts."
"FRIDAY," she said, relieved. "Where's Tony?"
"In his private lab. Would you-"
"Please. Please take me there." She winced, hating to interrupt the AI. Sometimes, it was hard to remember she couldn't have her feelings hurt.
The elevator sped to her husband's lab. Pepper used the time to look up breaking news. Less than an hour ago… Casualties almost guaranteed… No other information….
Jesus. Her heart raced even more, if that was possible. Peter may not even be there, she knew. He may just be sitting in his bedroom. Mr. Guy in the Chair could be nothing more than a shadow account meant to create terror. She sighed. When all of this was over, she was going to get ahold of his number, because it sure would be nice to call him right now.
The elevator door opened, and loud music assaulted her ears. She clamped her hands down over them. "How does Tony handle this?" she whispered, then yelled "FRIDAY? Turn the music down!"
"Of course, Ms. Potts," the AI replied pleasantly, and the music faded to acceptable levels.
She heard the sound of metal clanging against a table, then a voice. "Goddamn it, FRIDAY, what did I tell you about the music? The only one responsible for my ears is m- oh, hey, Pep!" He smiled at her, and she resisted the sudden urge to burst into tears, knowing the news she had to break.
"Tony, I have to talk to you."
He turned away. "Sorry, hon, can it wait? I'm about to crack this ridiculous problem I've been working on; it's actually really interesting-"
"Tony."
"-well, maybe not, but I think you'll like it. It's about increasing the accuracy-"
"Tony, please! Please listen to me." He turned back to her, eyes wide. His brows furrowed as he watched her blink back tears. She shouldn't be freaking out so much, why was she freaking out so much? It was probably nothing, it had to be nothing.
"What's going on?" His voice was low.
She hesitated before saying, "It's about Peter."
His face drained of all color. "What about Peter?"
"He… I got an email that he… he was on that plane, the one that…" She trailed off, looked back at him. She watched confusion flash across his expression.
"What plane?"
By the time Pepper got the next sentence out, Tony was rushing out of his seat. A passenger plane downed in the middle of nowhere in Indiana, and nothing else was known.
"FRIDAY, get Mark… get whichever one has the most speed ready right now!" he yelled, pretending not to notice the slight tremble in his voice. It was a testament to how he was doing that he didn't even know which suit that was. "You got an email?" he asked Pepper as he rushed down the hall.
She chased after him, her heels clicking loudly as she tried to catch up. He loved her, but he couldn't slow down, not right now. "Yes," she called. "In the inbox for the general public."
His chest loosened a little, allowing him to breathe. "In the- and you believed it? Why?" His tone was harsher than he intended.
"I don't know, Tony, it just… it seemed like it was written by someone his age, and it sounded scared, I-"
"Where did it come from? Who sent it?"
"From uh…" She thought, and he resisted snapping at her to hurry up. "Some email, guyinthechair?"
"Guy in the Chair?" Tony repeated, and his chest constricted again with a vengeance. He started running.
"Yes, Tony, who-"
"It's his best friend, Ned. That's what he calls himself." Tony'd made fun of the nickname relentlessly (I mean, come on, what even was that? LIke a sidekick?), but he'd take it all back if it brought him to his kid, if he'd really gone down in a fiery crash. Jesus.
"Oh, God," Pepper replied. "Oh, God, Tony. Why was he even on that plane?"
Tony shook his head. "College tour. I don't know. Kid wanted to see Northwestern." He wished he'd fought harder for MIT, for Peter going to his alma mater or at least not going too far away from New York City, from May, from him. "FRIDAY, where's that suit?"
"Ready when you are, boss." Even she sounded worried.
"Good luck, hon," Pepper encouraged. "Bring him back alive." She stopped following.
Tony nodded, ran out the still opening door onto his balcony, and leapt off. He felt the wind in his hair for a terrifying moment of free-fall before machinery enveloped his limbs and torso, forming quickly into the Iron Man suit. "FRIDAY?"
"Yes, boss."
"Take me to that crash. As fast as you can."
"On it, boss."
And so she was. The suit accelerated to dizzying speeds as power was diverted from unnecessary areas to flood the thrusters. He watched on his screen as his route was mapped out. New York City fell away until there was just open land below him.
"Bring up footage of the crash for me, would you?" he ordered, his voice just a fraction of its normal confidence.
Silently, images filled his view. A thick, vengeful column of smoke, the crumpled remains of the nose of the plane. Fire was spreading quickly through the grass from the sparking remains of one of the engines. No emergency exits had been triggered that he could see, and oh god, how could anyone have lived through that? His vision started swimming.
"Boss, I detect substantially increased heart rate and a lack of oxygen intake which has led to lightheadedness. You must remember to breathe." FRIDAY's voice was matter-of-fact but soothing.
"Shut up, FRIDAY," he managed, fighting back images of Peter's body breaking as the plane's skeleton collapsed around him. He took a shuddering breath. Curse his overactive imagination. "Alright, keep me posted on it; tell me if there's any change. How long has it been since it crashed?"
"Forty minutes."
"And how long until we get there?"
"Thirty-four." It sounded like a death sentence.
"Better get some med-suits ready. Have them follow me there."
"How many?"
"All of them."
He continued in silence, and Tony tried not to think about the kid, dead in a burning heap, following his parents directly to the grave.
Peter hadn't talked much about his parents, but whenever he did, Tony could tell there was still a lot of pain there, a lot left unresolved. He doubted Peter remembered all that much about them; he'd been what, five or six when they died? That had to bother him to no end. Tony still hated every blank spot in his mind when it came to his parents. After all, what good was a genius-level memory if he couldn't even remember what mattered?
The time was passing both too fast and too slow, a terrible dichotomy. Too slow because my god, why wasn't he there yet? His kid needed help. Too fast because the scared, more cowardly part of him wasn't sure he could handle seeing Peter strewn and broken among fiery wreckage, or whatever else the worst case scenario had in store for him. Because when had Peter not been dealt the worst case scenario? Tony knew the statistics of plane crashes. He knew that over 90% of victims survived. But 90% of victims didn't have what Peter liked to call "Parker Luck." Tony had balked at the nickname at first, but god, if it hadn't turned out to be true. That poor kid had been dealt more hardships than anyone deserved. He was a strong, stronger than Tony ever had been, but Tony found himself worrying that he'd break if he was put under too much more pressure.
"Boss, people have been seen emerging from the wreckage through the cover of the
trees," FRIDAY piped up, interrupting his thoughts.
The vice around Tony's heart eased up, just a little. "Good, that's good. Any sign of the kid?"
"No, Boss."
Tony could almost hear the sympathy in her voice. He gritted his teeth. He was going to deprogram that tone from her system the first chance he got. "How much longer, FRI?"
"Fifteen minutes."
Tony's top priority was going to be building a suit with more speed the moment his mind settled down enough to start brainstorming schematics instead of ways to tell May Parker about the death of her nephew.
"God damn it Peter, if you're dead down there, I'm going to bring you back to life and kill you again." The threat would have been a lot more effective if his voice hadn't broken, or if the kid had been there to hear it.
Fifteen more minutes was far too long for Peter to wait without him. But wait he would have to.
Just a quarter of an hour later, that cowardly part of him made itself known once again, because the scene he flew into could only be described as hell.
Large, twisted scraps of metal were littered everywhere. Three trees were broken, limbs and leaves resting on the ground, knocked down by falling, sometimes flaming pieces of plane. Fire was leaping towards the canopy of the woods, hot, burning, licking at the trees that remained standing. Black smoke was billowing over the whole scene, enough that he'd be choking on it if not for his air filtration system. It was a miracle the whole plane hadn't gone up in a mushroom cloud yet. Through the shimmery visage blanketing the site, Tony could see people with various levels of injury, some standing, some sitting, and a couple unconscious. A woman with shrapnel sticking out of her chest still clinging to life. A crying teenage girl with a head wound sure to leave a scar, a man staring, shellshocked, wavering on his feet. Almost a hundred people in various states in the clearing the plane had plowed into existence.
Almost a hundred, and Tony couldn't see Peter.
"FRIDAY, where's Peter?" He watched FRIDAY focus on everyone through his visor, briefly flashing their identities across the screen. He ignored the shocked cries alerting him that people knew he was there.
"No sign of him, boss."
Tony resisted the urge to let himself crash and landed roughly. He flipped his faceplate up and yelled, "Peter! Peter, where are you?"
"Iron Man!" a woman yelled, and his eyes flashed over all of their shocked, traumatized faces.
Right. He still had a job to do. "Everyone alright?" He received some nods, some head shakes, and a lot of blank stares. "Hold on, I have 35 med suits coming." That didn't seem to bring anyone much visible comfort. "Iron Man suits fully equipped to stabilize everyone who needs it until they reach the nearest hospital," he explained, and he was glad to see a couple faces relax. He flipped his faceplate back down
Still scanning the crowd for a sign of those big, brown eyes, he ordered, "I need everyone to get back, this scene isn't stable! Go back into the trees and stay together! You're all going to be alright, I'll make sure of it! Now move!" Did he always sound this scared while doing this kind of thing? "Come on, people, I don't have all day," he continued in a pale imitation of his usual quippy tone. Thankfully, they listened, leaving him to continue looking over the less stable crowd, those who were unconscious or not able to move on their own. Still, no sign of Peter Parker.
One woman rushed towards him, and Tony had to stop himself from yelling at her to get back, from pushing into the crowd to finish searching for his kid. "Please, Iron Man! Mr. Stark! Please, you have to save my husband, he's still stuck in there, row 14, please-"
It wasn't his finest moment, but Tony cut her off rudely and made to fly above the crowd again. "Listen, lady, I'm gonna do my best, but I can't if you-"
"Please, there was this kid, and he said he was going to save him, but he-"
Tony whirled to face her. "Kid? What kid?"
His deadly serious tone startled her out of her rambling, and she blinked and responded, "Um, brown hair, he was saving people, he was bringing them out from there-" she loosely pointed towards a hole in the remains of the plane cabin- "and everyone kept telling him to stay back, but he wouldn't listen, he just kept going back. He was bleeding; his arm was burned, and he went in and he never came back out. He couldn't have been more than fourteen."
She continued, but Tony couldn't listen, not with the sound of blood rushing in his ears. She had just described Peter Parker to a T. His arm was burned… "I'll look into it, lady! Now get back!" The metallic tone to his voice must have frightened her a little because she rushed back to join the rest of the group.
Tony turned without a second thought and flew into the burning, collapsed cabin as fast as his suit would let him.
"Sir, your biological responses indicate-"
"Shut up and help me find that fucking kid," Tony snapped. He knew his breath was racing. He knew his hands were shaking as they passed over the torn fabric of the seats. He could barely bring himself to look at the side of the plane that had been completely caved in, certainly killing everyone sitting on the far left of the cabin, leaving a bloody heap of bodies twisted in the metal. Thank god Peter hadn't been there. But so many others had. "And FRI? Look for any other signs of life."
He made his way through the broken rows. Fire leaked in through the cracks, and a thick haze covered everything. A loud groan sounded throughout the cabin, followed by a sickening crackling. "FRI-"
"Structural integrity is severely damaged. I estimate five minutes until the plane explodes."
"Fucking hell," he whispered, then yelled, "Peter! God damn it, kid, answer me!" He'd never have time to search the whole 737, not before it went up. Not that that would make him leave. He mentally apologized to Pepper while tearing through the aisles, because there was no way he was leaving that kid alone, not even to save himself.
He made it through one, two, three aisles before he heard it. A soft, pained groan. Tony rushed towards the sound, toward row 14, and there he was. Peter. Tony's eyes scanned his form. His right arm was burned from fingertip to bicep, a sickening mix of bloody red and a deep brown that Tony could barely bear to look at. Half of his face was covered in blood from a cut near his hairline. His right ankle was twisted at an angle that was definitely unnatural, and his jeans were ripped open on his shin, a bloody gash showing through. Tony took a couple seconds just looking him over, determining if he could even be moved.
"Jesus, Peter, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" Tony whispered. "Kid, can you hear me?" Parker's eyes were closed, but his eyelids were fluttering, and he was muttering under his breath, but he showed no sign of hearing Tony. His left hand, the uninjured one, twitched briefly across his body towards the seat next to him, where a motionless man was laid like a rag doll. He was still buckled in. Tony looked down, let out an exhale. "FRIDAY, any life signs?"
"No, boss. Just Peter," she answered. Tony closed his eyes briefly. The kid had gotten everyone out, at least everyone who had survived. Of course he had. It was Peter, he didn't see another option. "You have less than a minute before the flames leave the wreckage unstable enough to collapse," FRIDAY said with urgency in her voice.
Tony looked back up, hands hesitating, hovering over Peter's form. "FRIDAY, can I move him?" he asked, his voice jumping what felt like an octave.
"You have no choice."
"Okay, okay, shit," he whispered to himself. He aimed his repulsor up to the sky without so much as a glance and fired, leaving a hole in the ceiling big enough for three of him to fly through. Already planning out his apology, he slid his metal-clad arms under Peter's back and legs, doing his best to avoid his arm at any cost. But still, Peter's brows furrowed, tears leaked from under his fluttering eyelids, and a pitiful groan emerged from his lips.
"I'm sorry, kid, I'm sorry. I'll make it all up to you. Hell, I'll give you your own lab." He lifted him and flew out of the hole he'd just created. Thankfully, the rest of the surviving passengers had finally realized the severity of the situation and had moved back into the trees, far enough that Tony landed as lightly as possible in front of them and still felt protected from the oncoming blast.
Peter cried out, as unaware as he was, and gripped the arm of Tony's suit with his left hand hard enough to dent it. "Oh, kid," Tony lamented. The metal of the suit folded back from his hand, leaving it bare, and he placed it on Peter's unbloodied cheek. The kid quieted at the touch but still winced, and Tony found himself almost hoping he'd pass out entirely, if only to relieve him of the pain just a little. Tony couldn't imagine having a burn like the one that snaked its way up his arm. If not for his healing factor, he could bet it would make him lose function in that arm completely. God, he hoped Peter wouldn't have to deal with anything like that. Not on top of the mental torture this was sure to put him through.
"FRIDAY, how long until those medsuits get here?"
"Less than ten minutes. Just hold on."
"Yeah, uh-huh, I was planning on losing my shit completely," he muttered under his breath. FRIDAY eloquently declined to mention that was clearly what he was on the verge of doing. Behind him, there was a deafening groaning, cracking sound as the cabin finally collapsed completely to be overtaken by fire. Tony managed to tear his eyes from Peter just long enough to watch the flames finally reach the fuel tank and send the remainder of the jet up in a column of burning metal and gas.
The people around screamed, backed up even further to get away from the force of the blast, and Tony wished he could guard them all, but he couldn't move from Peter. He shielded him from the force and the heat of the blast, wishing he'd felt safe moving him further. But FRIDAY, for all her strengths, couldn't see into Peter, couldn't see what injuries may have snuck under her radar. That burn alone spoke volumes about what he could have gone through, the skin withered and torn in places, charred in others.
When the blast had passed, he looked straight down to Peter. He put a hand back on his cheek. HIs faceplate flipped up. "Kid, come on. You with me? Peter?" The teenager was completely still. "Fuck," he whispered.
The crowd was getting agitated, some mourning, some crying, some panicking about the lack of cell service. Tony had to get control of this quickly, but god damn it, he couldn't take his eyes off the kid.
It was only three minutes later, when the sounds of fifteen sets of repulsors reached their ears, that Tony got up. Understandably, the sound of flying machinery wasn't welcome in this crowd right now, and people began looking around in fear. His faceplate flipped closed and he rocketed a few feet into the air. "Everyone, listen and stay calm!" He was surprised how steady his voice sounded. "I have medical suits approaching; they look just like mine, and their purpose is stabilization and transport. They will use state-of-the-art technology to analyze those of you who need immediate medical attention and take them to the nearest hospital. Don't worry, it's completely safe." The medsuits came into view and immediately scanned the scene for a mere couple of seconds before dispersing into the crowd. Tony's heart sank a little when one went straight for the still limp form of Peter Parker. "Send that one to New York," Tony ordered FRIDAY.
"Iron Man!" someone yelled, mild confusion still spreading through the crowd as the suits carefully picked up their patients and carried them off.
"What?"
"What about the rest of us?"
"I'm going to organize a rescue with local rescue services. You'll all be picked up soon enough and it'll be dealt with. Don't go near that plane."
"What about my husband?" the woman from earlier yelled.
Tony couldn't help the flash of annoyance he felt at being delayed. And at such an obvious question. The plane had exploded. "I'm sorry. He didn't make it." He couldn't bear to watch her as she broke out into tears.
"Who is that boy?"
Tony's head whipped to the new face. "That is not your concern." His tone was biting.
"No, I just… he saved me. I wanted to-"
"I'll tell him," Tony cut the man off, a little less harshly this time. "All of you hold tight. Rescue will be here soon, although it won't be nearly as stylish as this one," He winced at the terrible joke, but still got a few obliging, though shaky, chuckles in return. "I've gotta go. Don't do anything stupid." He shot into the air before anyone could ask him any more questions.
"FRI, coordinate with local-"
"Already on it, boss. Relevant authorities have been notified."
"Set a course for the Tower."
"Already done. I've alerted Dr. Cho, and the medical suit is transmitting data to the Tower facilities."
"FRIDAY, I could kiss you. How is he?"
In lieu of answering aloud, she flashed a vitals report onscreen, and Tony fell silent as the list of injuries scrolled by. Three broken ribs, deep gash on his leg... the burns on his arm he knew about, but seeing it written out across his view made it real. "Third degree burns, hand to shoulder, smoke inhalation, a severely broken ankle, and internal injuries including internal bleeding. It is also likely he has a concussion, but due to his unconsciousness, it's hard to tell."
His throat dry, Tony asked, "Most concerning injuries?"
"I am not a doctor, but considering his healing factor, the burns, and ankle will likely be the most concerning. But as you know-"
"Yeah, yeah, medsuit does not equal doctor, believe me, Helen made me recite that a hundred times."
Tony finally saw the thing up ahead and caught up within minutes. He adjusted his speed to match that of the slower suit, hating every second the kid had to spend in there. He knew Peter was a bit claustrophobic (although he wasn't sure why), and he'd hate to have the kid wake up here, thousands of feet in the air when he'd just survived a plane crash, locked in repurposed metal armor. Tony shook his head, urging time to move a little bit faster.
"How long, FRI?"
"Twenty-three minutes."
Tony wished that didn't feel like it could be a death sentence.
"Don't worry, he's here, he-"
"The plane… oh god, I should've… Mr. Stark, you… get…"
"Hey, I already know. I already know. He's here already. He's being taken care of, I promise."
"He… He is? How… know?"
"His friend, Ned. He made sure of it."
"O-okay. Can I talk to him? How badly is…"
"He's going to be fine, Ms. Parker. He's not awake right now, but the best doctor in New York said he's going to be just fine."
"Not- when will he wake up?"
"Soon. Within the next hour."
"I'll be there… soon as I can… Just need to… work… Mr. Stark…"
"I'll send a car. Ms. Parker, I swear, as long as I'm alive, I won't let anything happen to him. And, call me Tony."
"Thank you, Tony. Call me May."
There was more to the conversation, but the voices faded away before Peter could figure out how to open his eyes. Painlessly, he slid back into unconsciousness before he could piece together his environment or remember why he was in the soft, antiseptic-scented bed and not in his own room.
When he woke up the next time, his brain felt a little less scattered. Slowly, he took in his surroundings, having yet to open his eyes. The air smelled clean, sterile, with a slight hint of metal and eucalyptus shampoo — Mr. Stark. His bed… no, not his bed… had sheets a little too scratchy to be comfortable, and there was a grating beeping sound assaulting his eardrums. Hospital. He was in the hospital. No, the Tower, it had to be. Peter furrowed his brows, trying to recall what happened.
He shifted his right hand a little and was immediately met with an awful, searing pain that shot all the way up his arm and into his shoulder. He tried to gasp, but what could only be broken ribs stopped his breath before he could take it. His eyes fluttered open in fear, and his mouth produced a kind of pained whine before he could stop it.
"Kid," Mr. Stark said, and Peter's eyes flew to him.
"Hurts," he managed through gritted teeth. "Can't breathe."
"Here, here." Mr. Stark pushed a piece of plastic with a button on it into his good hand, and he pushed without hesitation, wincing when he felt it crack a little under his fingers. Almost instantly, the pain subsided as some sort of medicine flooded his system. "Better?" Mr. Stark asked, his smile dulled by what could have been fear shining in his eyes. Iron Man, scared? What's going on? "It's powerful stuff, but it probably won't last that long. We're still trying to figure out something for your enhanced metabolism."
Peter nodded, then asked warily, "Mr. Stark, what happened?" He was afraid of the answer.
The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair, which didn't curb Peter's nerves at all. "Um, do you remember, you had a trip to-"
"Northwestern," Peter interrupted as it all came flooding back. The unexpected turbulence, the pilot yelling over the PA system, the indescribable feeling of plummeting for far longer than should have been possible, and the moment it all stopped as everything went up in flames. "The plane."
For once, Mr. Stark didn't say anything in response. Peter remembered waking up in the worst pain of his life. He remembered tearing his arm free from the scalding metal of the plane. He remembered ripping the seatbelt off of him in a panic, climbing over an unconscious (dead?) passenger to get to what used to be the aisle.
"Oh, god," he said, his voice weak and shaky. "Oh god, Mr. Stark, there were so many people, I tried to save them, I tried, but I couldn't get them all. There was this woman, her husband… There were so many. Did you get them? I couldn't get them."
"Kid, hey, calm down. You got everyone. You got them all."
Peter furrowed his brows, searching Mr. Stark's gaze for whatever he wasn't being told. "No, no I didn't, there were so many left."
The man looked away before supplying, "You got everyone who lived through the initial impact. They were all dead, kid. I'm sorry." His expression was full of pain.
"Oh, god." Peter was unable to stop the tears that sprung up in his eyes, and he made to move his hands up to his face, but Mr. Stark stopped him.
"Don't move that right arm just yet."
Peter's eyes shifted to the appendage that was covered fingertip to shoulder in thick bandages. They were pink with blood in some places, an indicator of just how bad the injury was underneath. He took the rest of himself in. His ankle was splinted tightly, more tightly than anything he'd ever had before. He remembered walking in and out of the plane over and over again, ignoring the excruciating pain. It must've been really badly broken to begin with, and he'd definitely made it worse. His left hand moved to touch the bandage by his hairline, and he was sure that a dark bruise had formed under the deep cut he remembered feeling before.
"Just super glued, kiddo. It's not too bad."
After a moment, Peter replied softly, "I thought I was blind. I woke up and there was so much blood in my eye, I thought I was blind."
Mr. Stark opened his mouth as if to reply, but closed it and blinked quickly. Was he trying not to cry? He reached out and pulled Peter's hand down from his head and squeezed it tightly. "You're not blind. You're going to be okay. It's going to be okay." He waited a moment, and drew his hand back. Peter missed its presence immediately.
Peter looked down at himself again. He swallowed. "Am I?"
Mr. Stark nodded. "Yep, give it a week or so and you'll be right as rain." When Peter just looked at him incredulously, he continued, "You, ah, you got a pretty good knock on the head there and in the back. We had to super glue a cut on your leg too, but it should heal have a concussion, and you have three broken ribs and one cracked one. You have second and third degree burns on your arm, but Helen told me it should heal completely without scarring. A broken ankle - just leave that splinted for a week or so, it's pretty badly injured - but it should be okay, y'know, just don't go running any marathons anytime soon-"
"Mr. Stark, you're rambling. Are you scared?" Peter teased, but it came out a shade off his usual tone.
"No, just bored. Haven't had any annoying teenagers to talk to."
Peter shot him a look, and a small smile graced his lips. Mr. Stark looked satisfied.
He looked down for a moment, and Peter continued to watch him, wondering at the tension in his shoulders. His hands hadn't stopped fidgeting since the teenager had woken up, either. The man ran a hand through his hair, and Peter noticed it was messier than he'd ever seen it. The smile fell from his face when Tony finally said, "Yeah, Peter, I was scared."
Peter looked down. He worried the blanket with his fingers, unsure of what to say. Tony — Mr. Stark — had been scared. For him. It shouldn't have been as much of a shock as it was. Peter knew his mentor liked him, even cared about him. But sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if he was just another one of his pet projects, around for as long as it took for the inventor to get bored. Hesitantly, Peter looked back up in time to see the man wipe his eye.
"I was scared, too," he responded in a whisper. He let out a breath, debating on whether or not to continue with what he wanted to say. He knew he could trust Tony, and he did trust him, with his life. But apparently it was a lot easier to almost die than to talk sometimes. "Um, my parents… they died in a plane crash?" He said it like a question. "And um, well…" he trailed off. Mr. Stark knew that already, but he could see by flash of sympathy in his eyes that he hadn't been thinking about it like Peter was.
"Go on, kid, it's okay," Tony said softly. There was sadness in his eyes, but not pity. Thankfully, not pity.
"Well…" he started. He looked away again and started talking, finding that once he started, he couldn't stop. "Well, I'd always wondered what that was like? Y'know, dying in a plane crash. I always wondered what it had been like… for them. And I thought maybe I knew a little, after Moving Day, when I stopped Mr. Toomes from stealing your stuff, but it wasn't the same. It was so different." Peter wiped his eyes, refusing to look at Mr. Stark. He felt a calloused, weathered hand grip his again, though, and he relaxed a little under the man's touch.
"Um, I was only six when they died, and maybe it was naive, but I always hoped they found peace. Like, on the way down to the ground, that they had kind of accepted it. But.. looking around when I was crashing… Nobody found peace. They were all screaming, or crying, and they were so scared. I was so scared. And everything was so out of control, and there was nothing I could do. There's always something I can do, but this time, there wasn't anything, and it was so much worse than anything I ever could've imagined in my life, and I was so sure I was gonna die. And I couldn't even… I couldn't do anything." He took a shuddering breath. "And they died like that," he whispered. His face crumpled, and he wiped a tear from his face.
"Oh, kid," Tony said in a shaky voice, and pulled Peter into the most careful hug possible. "Fuck, Peter, I'm so sorry." And Peter burst into tears.
As Peter sobbed into his shoulder, Tony couldn't help but think that there was no way there was a God. Because no god would sit up in his heavenly chair and give the best damn kid in the world all of this to deal with. Peter was the most selfless, kindest, smartest person Tony had ever had the pleasure of knowing (well, maybe except for Pepper), and good fucking god, seeing him like this broke his heart into a million pieces.
He was so out of his depth, it felt like all he could do was just hold the poor kid. After all, what do you say to someone who experienced something like this? Who had the misfortune of losing their parents and knowing exactly what they'd felt like?
It took Peter a while to calm down, but eventually the tears subsided and he pulled away. "I'm sorry," he muttered, unable to meet Tony's eye.
"Don't apologize. You don't have anything to apologize for." Peter nodded. Tony hesitated, but continued, "And Peter? Just because you went through the same thing as your parents doesn't mean everything was the same. They might've found peace. Don't rule that out."
Peter looked at him, and Tony could see him mulling that over, searching for doubt in Tony's eyes. Luckily, there wasn't any. Any people who could raise that kid, even for six years, must've been able to handle anything. Parker was a troublemaker, after all.
Peter sat back, seeming to accept Tony's answer. "Um, Mr. Stark? Is May coming?"
"Oh, yeah, she's probably on her way now. I sent a car for her. I think she's dealing with leaving work. But she knows you're okay."
Peter visibly relaxed and let out a breath. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."
Tony rolled his eyes. "You can call me Tony, you know."
Peter shrugged, a clear denial that that was going to happen anytime soon.
They sat in comfortable silence for a couple minutes, listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Tony thought back to the whole reason Peter got on that plane in the first place. He didn't want to face the idea that the kid could be leaving in a couple years. Of course, he could visit. He could go from New York to Chicago in no time. Hell, he could build another complex there and the kid could still work on Spider-Man with him, if he wanted to.
Wow, this kid had really worked his way right into the depths of Tony's heart, hadn't he? "Peter, if you still want to tour Northwestern, I can make it happen. You wouldn't even have to fly. I mean, it's no MIT, but I guess I could be convinced-"
"No, that's okay," Peter interrupted. "After today, I realized I don't really want to be that far from May. Or from…" Peter's eyes flashed to him. "...being Spider-Man. I mean, it'd be pretty obvious it was me if Spider-Man suddenly stopped showing up in New York and started in Chicago right when I moved."
Oh thank god. Tony let out a quick sigh of relief, trying to hide it from Peter. After all, he didn't want to influence him either way. I mean, he did. But, he wouldn't for Peter's sake. But one glance at the slightly confused, slightly amused expression on the kid's face made it very clear he'd heard it plain as day. Still, he responded, "Well, if you say so."
Peter rolled his eyes and started to say something back when he glanced through the glass doors of his room and his expression changed entirely. "May!" he called almost desperately.
"Peter! Oh my god, Peter!" May responded as she threw open the door. She rushed to his side and Tony backed away from the bed. "I'm so glad you're okay, honey, when I saw the news I was-"
"May, I'm so happy to see you, I'm so sorry, I-"
"Don't be sorry, I should've been there with you, I'm just so happy you're okay!
"I was so scared, May, I thought-" Peter stopped talking and burst into tears once again.
Tony left the room before his own emotions overwhelmed him too.
It was almost twenty minutes before May came out of Peter's room and found Tony sitting in a weak imitation of relaxation on the couch. Her eyes were puffy and red, but she'd composed herself. "He fell asleep," she told him. "I think it all caught up with him."
Tony nodded. "It was a tough day," he said awkwardly. He wasn't quite sure how to interact with her sometimes. He knew she didn't like him being Spider-Man, and Tony was a huge part of that side of the kid's life. She allowed it because she couldn't stop Peter, and she saw how happy it made him, but she wasn't exactly buddy-buddy with his biggest enabler and provider of spider-tech.
"Look, Tony, I know we've had our differences, and I know I've said it already, but thank you so much for today. And thank you for… for always keeping him safe. It's good for him to know he has someone else he can count on."
Oh. This is a surprise. "Well, someone has to make sure he keeps his… teenage thinking out of the field." He may have used some harsher words if it wasn't May he was talking to, but there was no malice in it regardless.
"I don't know what I'd do if he…" She trailed off.
Yeah. Me neither. Speaking of which… "Hey, Ms. P- May. I have something I need to do. I'll be back soon, but can you stay with him?"
She gave him a withering look. "As if I would be anywhere else."
He walked quickly to the elevator, which took him up to the penthouse, and more importantly, to the balcony.
The Iron Man suit applied itself like a second skin as he walked outside (it had gotten dark out, when had that happened?), and he jumped off the roof fluidly, rocketing towards Queens.
When he arrived outside Ned Leeds's open window, the kid was hunched over his small computer screen, eyes glued to the news, scenes of flaming wreckage flashing across the screen as the stoic newscaster delivered whatever updates the media had.
"Hey," Tony said a little louder than he meant to, and the kid yelped and jumped about a foot in the air, much to his amusement.
"Iron Man! You were there! At the crash! You got my email! Oh my god, is Peter okay?"
"He's fine. He's passed out in the Tower right now, but give him a week and he'll be good as new."
"Oh, thank god. I mean, thank you for saving him. What happened? Is he hurt? Some lady was saying-"
"I'm not his messenger, kid, you can ask him all of this when he wakes up again." He hadn't meant to put an edge on the words, but the day was really starting to weigh on him. Luckily, Ned didn't look put off at all. "I'll get you a visitor's pass to the tower. Ted, was it?" He smirked, not that the kid could see it.
"Yes! I mean, no. It's Ned. Ned Leeds. The T- Avengers Tower? For real?"
Tony shrugged casually. "Sure." Ned looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. "Now that I'm thinking about it, phone."
"What?" Ned squeaked.
"Your phone. Give it to me."
Ned unlocked it and gave it to him with a shaking hand, and Tony made a show of letting the gauntlet expose his fingers so he could type a few things into it. He tossed it back. "There. Gave you my personal number. If Peter ever gets hurt again, go ahead and call. No more emails, Guy in the Chair."
"Holy shit," Ned whispered in awe.
"Seriously," he said, partly because he meant it and partly to watch the kid lose his shit even more. "If anything happens, don't let him talk you out of it. I see your contact info, I'll pick up."
"Don't you need my number?"
Tony tapped his metallic finger to his helmet and said, "Already have it." Ned's mouth dropped open. He didn't, of course. He would have to ask Peter for it later. But it was worth it to watch the kid's expression.
"Ned, if anyone else gets this number, I'll know it was you. And if you so much as think about using it for homework answers, I'll put you in the ground, that's a promise."
Tony stuck around long enough to watch the kid nod frantically before taking off, leaving Ned Leeds to stare at his phone as if it was the Hope Diamond and to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
A/N: First, I want to say thank you to all of you for waiting so long for this chapter! I know I kept you in suspense for quite a long time, and I'm sorry for that. It just kept growing and life just kept happening. I don't anticipate taking this long again, but just in case, I thought I'd let you know: I update my profile semi-regularly with info on how any active WIPs are coming along, and I date those updates! So if you're ever curious about how this is going, feel free to check my profile, and it should have a recent update for you. If it doesn't for some reason, don't hesitate to ask for one.
Secondly, I want to thank you all so much for reading! This chapter became an absolute monster, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I doubt the next one will be this long, but I guess we'll see! Please review if you wish; I'd greatly appreciate it :)