I

by Lazydaily

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4. Chapter 4

Finally, finally, Tony gathers himself enough to pull away. Peter follows with a whine in the back of his throat that would have been endearing if it wasn't so damn heartbreaking. It almost breaks Tony's resolve, but curiosity's got a hold of him now, and he needs to understand what's gotten them to this place. How they both ended up so broken.

Tony slides his hands to Peter's shoulders so the contact isn't lost but he can look the kid in the face. Pete's eyes are red, his face streaked with tears, and there's a fading bruise at this temple. But there's a hint of a smile about his chapped lips.

"So I'm guessing I'm not the only one who forgot you, huh? May would never let you get in such a state."

Peter flinches back as if Tony had struck him, wrenching out of his hold. "May's gone," he says, his gaze dropping to his lap.

"Her memories aren't gone forever, Pete. They're just buried, like mine. We can get 'em back. Make her remember."

"She's dead," he chokes, like someone who's having his heart pulled out from his chest. "She died before the spell. It was my fault."

And Tony wants to grab Peter and start the hugging and crying all over again. It explains so much. Why Peter was broken. Why Peter was alone. Tony would give anything to lance this pain, but he knows death is something that even he can't fix.

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

"It was!" Peter explodes. Tony has never seen the kid so mad. "I was the one who went to Doctor Strange instead of just calling MIT, and I was the one who kept changing the spell. It was my fault the Green Goblin came here. Then he was nice to me and said I had potential and I fucking fall for that every time." There's vitriol there that Tony doesn't quite understand. "Then he went all psycho with his grenades and glider and I couldn't stop him and May—and May—" He breathes heavily, swipes his hand down his face, and then continues. "I thought she was okay. She got up. She talked to me. She said all this stuff about responsibility and then she just collapsed. She was bleeding and I couldn't stop it and then the police came and shot at me and I had to run. And I never saw her again."

"Jesus kid, I'm sorry."

"I miss her so much."

This hug is gentler. Peter's tears aren't relief, they're agony. Tony feels utterly helpless, but he holds Peter as close as he can, stroking through his hair, whispering nonsense.

Fear takes hold, worse than when Tony thought he was drinking again, because he knows the darkness Peter faces. Except Tony hadn't been close to his parents, with Howard's disapproval and all the boarding schools. And Peter has already lost so much, but through it all he's always been loved. This is the first time he's been alone, and it's already been—God, months? Tony isn't sure exactly, but too long, certainly.

Tony tries to think what had helped him, back when his parents died. If there was anything he'd needed that he hadn't gotten.

Obadiah had poured him a glass of scotch and told him what he was expected to say at the funeral. Tony was already drinking too much in college—his problems started long before his parents' deaths—but that was the first moment an adult actually implied that drinking was an acceptable and expected response to emotion. That had led to a particularly hard spiral. Which, knowing what he did about Obie now, had damn well probably been intentional.

Only Rhodey had shown him the proper amount of empathy. He'd wrapped Tony in bear hugs any time he'd seen him—prompting the Honeybear nickname that still persisted, decades later. It had helped, to know someone had his back, someone cared. But it hadn't been enough.

Peter needs so much more than hugs. Tony would do anything to give it to him. But he's at a loss. All he knows is Peter can't become Tony. He needs to be better.

He will be better.

Once the kid finally cries himself out, Tony presses a kiss to the top of Peter's head and then rests his chin there. "You said something about a spell?"

So Peter starts at the beginning, painting a more coherent string of events. The kid's heart is incredible—what other hero goes around trying to cure all his nemeses?—and his bad luck equally astounding.

But Tony can't shake the guilt. Beck was Tony's mess. Peter had just got caught in the crossfire, and Tony has been too newly awakened to stop it. Beck had ruined Peter's life, and Tony hadn't done enough to put it back together. He'd listened to Pepper, who'd hired Murdock to clear the charges and promised it would all blow over. Once it did Peter could come around again. Once the whole world wasn't watching, and a news helicopter wouldn't follow him to his not-so-dead former mentor's secret lake house.

Truth be told, Peter shouldn't have needed a magic spell to get his friends into MIT. All he needed was for Tony to make a phone call. But Tony had been dead, as far as all his MIT contacts knew. And Peter hadn't even told him he'd been rejected. Tony hadn't known that Peter's friends wanted to go there at all.

So honestly the kid's wrecked life was actually Tony's fault. But Tony knows from experience that revelation won't make either of them feel any better.

Last thing Peter needs is to be kicking himself for not calling Tony.

Tony's only going to kick himself when the kid's not watching.

"I'm going to punch that wizard," Tony says instead, after Peter's finished. "With my metal fist."

"This isn't Stephen's fault."

"Stephen?" Tony parrots, one eyebrow raised.

Peter rolls his eyes. "He told me to call him that. Then he told me not to. Then he told me I could right before he forgot me. It was kind of a thing."

"See, that's the type of interaction you're supposed to have with adults. Stupid arguments about how much respect is necessary. Not split-second decisions that alter the fabric of reality."

"It was the only way, Mister Stark. And it was my mess. It was right that I'd have to deal with the consequences.

Peter pulls away and wraps his arms around himself. "Look, I really appreciate you saving me but I'm fine now. I'm just gonna go back to my apartment and sleep this off."

"Yeah. No. I just got you back, kid. There's no way in hell I'm letting you slink back to that shitty apartment to lick your wounds on your own. You're coming with me to the lake house for some R&R. I'll give Happy a call."

"Happy doesn't know me."

"We can fix that. FRIDAY's got your greatest hits all queued up. And if it takes some time to get through his thick skull, he can still drive. We'll figure all this out once we've got you warm and rested."

Tony needs Peter to come home with him. More than he needed to get the hell away from the Ten Rings. More than he needed Pepper to be waiting for him when that spaceship landed back on Earth. More than he needed anything else in his entire life.

But Peter is stubborn. Self-sacrificing even on his best of days. And this is clearly not his best of days. Tony is expecting Peter to fight him, at least a little. Probably a lot. Insist that he's really fine. That he can take care of himself.

So when Peter nods, mumbling a quiet, "Okay," even though it's exactly what Tony wants, his worry grows exponentially.

Is Peter really too tired to fight?

He does look it.

But Tony says, "Good man," in as encouraging a voice as he can muster and speed dials Happy.

The man picks up on the third ring, groggy and grumpy. "Do you know what time it is, Tony?"

He doesn't, actually. This whole night is a blur, some strange fever dream full of magic and feelings. He used to be a man of science. Emotionally, that was a hell of a lot easier.

"Doesn't matter. Look, FRI's gonna send you an address in Queens. I need you to get here stat. Bring a medium sweatsuit and five cheeseburgers."

"It's two o'clock in the morning. Where am I supposed to get a sweatsuit? You're not even a size medium."

"I dunno. 24-hour Walmart? Improvise. Clothes aren't for me."

"The five cheeseburgers not for you either?"

"Nope." He smiles despite himself. It's always fun to rile Happy up. "Best order seven so there's one for you and me. And a large fry. And a strawberry milkshake. Chop chop. Kid's hungry."

"What the hell are you doing with Morgan in Queens at 2 a.m.? That girl's a monster, but she can't eat five cheeseburgers."

Peter's watching the exchange with wide, sad eyes, probably able to pick up both sides of the conversation with those super senses of his. "Not that kid. You'll see when you get here, Hap. Can you just get here?"

Happy hesitates, and what follows is far worse than aggravation. Worry. "So there's another kid? I'm getting major old Tony vibes here. Are you okay? You haven't been drinking, have you?"

"No, I have not been drinking." And maybe he snaps a little because he'd honestly considered it ever since Pepper asked him that very same question. But the last thing he needs now is a drink. Just a time machine. Or at least all the benefits of six months of therapy to go into effect retroactively, so that he can honestly believe that his kid will be okay. "I'll explain when you get here."

He hangs up the phone and Peter keeps watching him. Silent, but curious. Tony counts that as a win.

"People have been a little, err, worried about me," Tony admits. Because maybe it'll help Pete out to see others are capable of weakness. "Ever since I realized I was missing something important."

"I'm sor—" Peter starts, but Tony glares, raising a finger and clearing his throat, and Peter stops.

"I'm not," Tony finishes, resting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Not at all."

Happy arrives clutching two bags and a milkshake, and stops dead when he sees a kid in a bloody costume huddled on the hospital bed. "You didn't tell me this was a Spider-Man thing," he says, assessing the room. "What the hell is this place? And what the hell is going on?" His eyes fix on Peter, narrowing slightly, and Tony holds his breath and hopes it will be easy—even as a treacherous part of him hopes it won't, because damn did Tony himself take a lot of convincing, and surely Hap didn't get closer to the kid while Tony was playing dead?

But then Happy just squints deeper, and says, "Wait, weren't you the kid at the cemetery?"

"Uh, yeah. That's right."

"And you're Spider-Man."

Peter gulps and nods. "Yeah."

Then Happy turns to Tony. "I didn't know you knew who Spider-Man was."

Tony snatches the takeout bag from Happy's hand and tosses it to Pete. Peter opens it and stares down at the mound of grease. "This is a lot of cheeseburgers."

"And I can see a lot of your ribs through that spandex." But the joke leaves him feeling gross, because Peter blushes but he's also staring at $20 worth of takeout like it's more food than he's seen in a week, and Tony knows how much food the kid needs to eat just to stay comfortable, let alone full, and the thought of his kid not only absolutely alone in the world and a ghost in his own life but also literally starving is too much. He grabs the milkshake from Happy—Peter's favorite flavor—and pushes it into Peter's hand. Then holds out his palm so Peter passes him a burger.

His stomach is rolling, but it might be less awkward for Peter if Tony eats too.

So he takes an exaggerated bite and then turns back to Happy. "Yeah ya did. We've both known for years. I gave Peter your number so you could screen all his calls because I have having major daddy issues at the time. Also it amused me. He left you so many voicemails."

"No, I ran point with Spider-Man on occasion but I never knew who was under the mask."

"Nope. Think again. Those memories – is there anything off about them? Something fuzzy? Something missing?"

But Happy just shrugs. "I dunno, boss. You've made me do a lot of weird shit over the years."

And Tony can hear Peter breathing, too loud like he might hyperventilate, and he feels like an asshole for not wanting this to be easy. They have to do this fast. He can't even imagine what Peter must be going through. What would Tony do if Rhodey looked him in the eye and didn't know him? He'd want to die. "FRI, play Parker's greatest hits. All the songs with Happy, please."

Of course it starts with the video diary because Happy is there, disgruntled for the first time with the Spider-Kid that he'll grow to admire.

"This didn't happen," Happy sputters.

"Then how did FRIDAY record it?"

"I don't remember this."

"Yeah," Peter breathes. "That was kind of the point."

"What?" Happy says.

"Fucking magic," says Tony. "Think hard and pay attention."

There were so many voicemails, but FRIDAY speeds through some of the highlights—particularly animated anecdotes of heroism on a small scale that Tony wishes the kid had stuck to, even though he's capable of so much more. Helping ladies across the streets and finding lost dogs had never broken him.

There is the report of the crisis Peter had averted by thwarting the Vulture, and a recording from the Compound when Peter had turned down a spot on the Avengers.

"Why did I propose, Hap?" Tony presses as they watch Happy toss his younger self the ring. "What was that press conference supposed to be about?"

Then there is a frantic phone call from Europe somewhere, which Tony had never heard. The strain in Peter's voice. The fear. Then they are inside the Quinjet and Happy is exactly who Peter needs – exactly who Tony wishes he could be – stitching him up and calming him down and leading him towards a plan. It's an intimate moment, vulnerable, and Tony feels wrong watching but he can't turn away. Because Peter goes from broken to determined within minutes and then he is bent over the fabricator, designing a suit with speed and smarts and finesse that took Tony nearly a decade of tinkering to perfect. The pride he feels is so overwhelming that he almost needs to sit down, but he finishes his burger instead.

"Ringing any bells?"

"What the hell is this?" Happy asks. "What in the actual hell?"

"It's okay. He doesn't remember. Can we just go?" Peter asks. But Tony can tell how much he needs this, and they have got to be close.

"Have you got anything else, FRI? Anything punchier?"

"Your memory recovery seemed to be prompted by the recall of an intense emotional trauma. I do have one recording that may cause a similar response in Mr. Hogan."

"Play it."

But every cell in Peter tenses. "Don't."

The suitcam footage looks like something from a warzone, and Peter hacks like his lungs have been crushed. "May," he calls, and Tony's blood freezes is his veins.

"Turn it off, please," Peter whimpers.

"FRI, listen to him," Tony orders, pulling Peter's head into his chest, covering his ears in a fruitless gesture due to those damned super senses.

But the video keeps rolling as May Parker staggers to her feet and they meet in a messy embrace. "I think he broke my ribs," Peter says, and then there's a chorus of shaky, "We're okays." But Tony knows that this is the moment where nothing after is ever okay again. "FRI, turn it off!" he bellows.

"You have built protocols for Mister Parker's protection. Those protocols were nearly inadequate when they were not backed by your memories. I strongly believe the best way to protect Peter Parker is to restore the memories of all those who care for him. My systems indicate that this recording will have the emotional resonance necessary for Mr. Hogan to remember."

Happy's eyes are glued to the screen, watching May as she gives Peter some last advice, tells him he did the right thing, that this isn't his fault. But then she falls, and Peter keens in Tony's arms. "For God's sake shut it off FRI. You're hurting him now! You're supposed to keep him safe."

But then Happy spins, choking out a sob. "Christ, Peter." The recording goes dark and silent, though Tony can still hear Peter telling his aunt that it's going to be okay, and Tony thinks of Titan, and how it would have been if their roles were reversed. He understands that damn helpless feeling, of watching someone you love fade right before your eyes.

"Where have you been all this time?"

Peter looks up and meets Happy's eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her. She died because of me and you loved her and I'm sorry."

Tony has whiplash at the line and you loved her but at least Happy's on the ball because he rushes forward. "No. Stop that. That wasn't on you. You were just doing what she asked. She wanted to save those people. Cause that's who she was. And it's awful that she got caught in the crossfire. But it wasn't her fault and it wasn't yours either. It just happened. It just happened and I'm not mad. But seriously, where have you been?"

Tony steps away so Happy can drop down beside Peter and pull him into his side. Peter melts there, and the two of them just breath for a while. Tony tries to give them space but he is a rubber band ball of anxiety and his jealousy isn't helpful—at all. Of course everyone loves Peter. Not even Happy's immune to that. But their closeness has been born from Tony's absence and their shared loss is ostensibly Tony's fault.

And Tony hadn't even known May and Happy were dating.

"I've got a place," Peter finally says. But place is too kind a word for that personality-less shoebox.

"He's coming home with me," Tony says. "We'll set him up in the spare room until we figure all this out."

A heavy look passes between the three of them, but no one argues.

Tony feels, in that moment, just how late it is. Nothing more will be solved tonight. They have their memories, and they have Peter. Everything else will have to wait until the morning. They just need to get him home. To a place that is safe and warm and filled with love. And food. So much food.

"Why don't you take a shower, kid?" Tony gestures to the bathroom door and the abandoned Walmart bag. "Then we'll hit the road."

Peter nods and pushes himself gingerly off the bed. He grits his teeth when his leg hits the floor, but it holds his weight.

"You can take some more pills once we get in the car," Tony promises.

But Peter shakes his head, going so pale Tony worries he might pass out. "I don't wanna sleep."

Tony's heart breaks all over again, for about the sixth time this night. "We'll still be here when you wake up, Pete."

Peter watches them for a moment, his lip so chewed Tony is surprised it's not bloody. "Promise?" he whispers.

"We promise."

"Damn straight we do."

Then Peter nods, the ever slightest of smiles turning up the corners of his mouth. It's like the first hint of sunlight after surviving a hurricane at sea, and in that tiny moment of trust Tony knows that no matter how long the road ahead, his kid will be okay by the end of it.

Peter takes the bag and retreats to the bathroom. Neither Tony or Happy say anything. They just stare at each other in a shared desperation.

But once the water turns on Happy whisper-hisses, "Is he okay?"

And Tony is cautious about his every word, because he's sure Peter can still hear them even over the water, and the last thing he wants is for the kid to think that they're talking about him. To hear anything that he can even extrapolate into meaning that the only two people in the entire world who know who he is have any skepticism in his ability to rise from the ashes of this clusterfuck and be anything less than outstanding.

Tony needs Peter to be okay. He can't be the reason that he isn't.

"He's damn well going to be," Tony says. "We're going to make sure of that."

And Happy seems to understand that it isn't safe to talk, so he doesn't press. But he does mouth to Tony, "He hasn't had anyone?" And Tony shakes his head.

"How long has May?" Tony mouths back, because the kid hadn't been too clear on the timing.

"Six months."

And Tony really wants to punch a wizard.

"Care to explain why I couldn't remember him?" Happy asks at a regular volume, because that's a safe question. "Cliff notes version for the ass-crack of dawn?"

"Magic spell. Fucking magic."

Peter emerges soon after, his hair wet but adorably mussed. His skin pale but clean. The bruises are already beginning to fade, but there are dark caverns under his eyes too persistent for his healing factor. He holds himself like a shell-shocked soldier, but at least he is able to hold himself up at all.

Had it only been hours ago when Tony had found him in a pool of his own blood, minutes from death?

What if Tony had spent longer arguing with FRIDAY? What if he had never built those protocols in the first place? What if magic worked on AIs the same way it worked on humans?

Tony can fathom that loss all too well.

He has felt it before.

Twice now.

Never again.

"Nice ride," Peter says, eyes flicking to the edge of the room where Rescue stands sentry in all its purple and silver glory.

Tony cherishes the trace of humor in his voice. They will all be better once they've gotten some sleep. "Got dressed in a hurry."

Peter smiles, soft and tentative. His gaze travels back and forth between Tony and Happy. "I'm really happy to see you guys. That probably wasn't clear with all the crying. But I am so glad you're here."

"The feeling's mutual, kid," Happy says. "It's really good to see you."

Tony slings an arm around Pete's shoulder and pulls him into his side. "It's going to get better from here on out, Pete. I promise you that."

"Me too," Happy adds. "You've got people in your corner now. We'll get through this together."

"Together," Peter echoes. As wrung out as he looks, there is hope on the tip of his tongue.

Tony will make sure the kid is never alone again.