Tony let out a heavy sigh as he watched his Mark 42 armor crumble to pieces, struck by an unexpected collision with a truck,
"That came out of nowhere."
He had just managed to rescue the Air Force One crew by remotely controlling the Mark 42 from the speedboat they were currently aboard. Despite his efforts, Killian still succeeded in capturing the President using the Iron Patriot armor.
It's time he summons the rest of his suits using the House Party Protocol and he regretted not initiating it sooner when the missiles were already targeting the mansion, but half of his suits were in the Tower plus they were caught off guard too instantly.
They're now en route to the container terminal, where Killian plans to assassinate the President. If his assumptions are correct, it's likely Pepper is also being held there.
But where are they keeping my son?
The breathtaking sight of the sunset over the ocean spread before him, yet instead of being uplifted, he felt a heavy sense of desolation, as if life itself were draining of color.
His throat ached with the weight of unshed tears. With each passing moment, his worry for his son intensified. What could they be doing to him? He couldn't bear the idea of anything happening to Peter. But he must have his strength, his family's depending on him, and he swore to himself that he would find a way to rescue them.
"Hey man, you okay?" Rhodey's pat on Tony's back conveyed his concern, his eyes reflecting the worry he felt for his friend. Despite Tony's attempts to maintain a facade of humour and nonchalance since their reunion in the same compound, Rhodey sensed the underlying fear and sadness in his actions. Tony's witty remarks couldn't conceal the anxiety he harboured for the safety of his loved ones.
"They're going to make it through this, Tony. You'll be there to save them, and we'll stand by your side," Rhodey reassured him. He knew that Tony needed to hear those words, to feel the support of his closest friend during this trying time.
Tony forced a smile amidst his misery, his resolve firm despite the tear that betrayed his inner struggle. His throat tightened with emotion, but he steadied himself, determined to push through,
"No matter what it takes."
As they gazed pensively into the vivid hues of the orange sunset skies, JARVIS's voice broke through, "Sir, an incoming call from Captain Rogers."
Tony's jaw clenched at the mention of the name, his voice sliced through the air like a knife as he answered the call, "Rogers."
"Tony," Roger's voice sounded apologetic.
He better should be, "About time."
Steve couldn't miss the resentment lacing Tony's words,
"I guess you already knew. We're sorry, Tony. We really are. It got out of hand, we were—"
Tony interrupted, his features contorting in frustration, "It got out of hand? What? I trusted you! You're freaking Captain America, for god's sake! You've got Black Widow, you even got the Hulk there!"
He didn't need an explanation. His anger was growing by the minute. He expected too much of them. He expected that no harm would come to his son because he's in the right hands, but still the worst comes to worst. Tony blamed them but blamed himself even more for trusting too much. It's his entire fault. He should've been there. All his past bad decisions and recklessness come harrowing back into his conscience.
"Know what, save it. I'm gonna save them. We're on our way to where they're hiding Pepper. Peter might be there, I'll find a way."
"Peter's not in the container port, Tony. We have finally intercepted where they've taken him. We're on our way as well. We'll bring Peter back to you. I promise."
Tony closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the words as they sank into his mind.
Oh, thank God. They know where Peter is.
Steve waited for Tony's response, but the silence on the other end continued. With a heavy heart, he resigned himself to end the conversation, "Good luck, Tony."
Just as he was about to terminate the call, Tony's voice broke through, strained and raspy,
"Rogers... Bring back my son in one piece."
Steve paused, feeling the weight of Tony's plea,
"You have my word," he assured, his voice firm with determination.
With that, the call ended as Tony and Rhodes closed in on the massive vessel they were about to hijack.
Steve turned around to find Natasha and Bruce, their expressions laced with concern.
He believed it fell upon him to deliver the news to Tony, given that he bore the brunt of responsibility for Peter slipping through their grasp. However, Natasha countered his self-blame, assuring him that everything had spiralled out of control too swiftly for any one person to shoulder any of it.
Despite her reassurance, Steve couldn't shake the feeling of failure as their leader. They waited to call until they could give Tony some good news. They knew that if they prematurely called Tony without knowing where Peter was, it would solve nothing. They didn't want to add to Tony's problems even more.
Once Natasha managed to pinpoint Peter's location through her hacking prowess, leveraging both SHIELD and STARK servers, they wasted no time suiting up and informing Tony.
They're now soaring the skies aboard the Quinjet, racing toward Peter's location on a remote island off the coast of Florida. Killian had very carefully planned to have his hostages in different locations to torment Tony even more, knowing he would have leverage if he had Tony's son hidden somewhere.
"Banner, no code green unless we really needed it," Cap commanded as they prepare for what lies ahead.
"Yeah, okay," Bruce said, his mind already laced with worry. He assisted in preparing the essential medical supplies, collaborating with the Doctors and nurses who had accompanied them from the Tower.
As the Quinjet descended onto the water, Natasha's voice cut through the hum of the engines, "The island is swarming with soldiers, likely half of them infected with the same virus," she warned.
A compact airboat awaited them, and they embarked, moving stealthily towards the shore. A small SHIELD tactical team came with them, serving as backup.
Their approach was swift and precise. They breached the outer perimeter. Cap neutralized the Extremist soldiers, while the tactical team handled the guards. Meanwhile, Natasha focused on hacking into the prison facility's security system, determined to find a way inside.
"Need my help?" Bruce asked, his pacing betraying his unease. He watched as everyone diligently carried out their tasks, feeling a pang of guilt as he stood there seemingly useless.
"No, I've got this. You should focus on checking on Peter when we find him. We don't need you turning green and angry, that'll only frighten him more," Natasha replied, her attention fixed on her laptop screen as she tried another sequence of commands. "Almost there." She was on the verge of a breakthrough when the sound of gunfire erupted from a nearby bunker, and she found herself moments away from being shot if not for Bruce, who instinctively pushed her to the ground, inadvertently destroying her laptop in the process, "Damn it!"
"Now?" Bruce arched a brow at Natasha as he stood up. He knew this mission was code green already.
"Oh screw it. Go!" With her signal, Bruce shielded her from the gunfire of another guard as he transformed into the Hulk. The towering, enraged green guy dashed towards the bunker, obliterating it in his path. He then barrelled towards the imposing steel door of the prison, which resembled a fortress. With a powerful blow, the door shattered.
Black Widow and Captain America followed him inside, greeted by a sprawling labyrinth of white corridors and laboratories.
"Search for the control room," Cap instructed, "I'll go and try to find Peter in these rooms."
She nodded and made her way towards the control room. Her past training as an assassin had ingrained in her where control rooms were typically situated, giving her a head start in finding it. She hoped her instincts were leading her in the right direction. However, amidst her focus on the task at hand, she couldn't shake off the concern about how they would manage to calm Hulk down later.
Meanwhile, Cap dashed through the corridors, dispatching guards as he progressed. Despite his efforts, he had only managed to cover one floor.
On what floor are they keeping Peter anyway? This Killian is nuts about building something as freaky as this.
"Steve, found him. He's on the top floor. Middle Room. Hurry. I'll meet you there." Natasha's voice echoed through his intercom.
Steve sprinted at the stairs to the top floor, he had no time to look for the elevator wherever the heck that was.
After ascending five flights of stairs in record time, Steve reached the top floor and located Peter's room. With a display of his strength, he effortlessly forced open the locked door,
"Peter!"
As Steve cautiously stepped into the sterile white room, the stark brightness stung his eyes, casting harsh shadows on the scene before him. Relief flooded through him at the sight of Peter lying on the bed, but it was quickly overshadowed by a deep ache in his heart. Peter lay curled into a fetal position, his small frame trembling with distress.
Steve's gaze lingered on the red marks encircling Peter's wrists, where the restraints had once held him captive. Each mark seemed to echo a tale of agony.
The room felt oppressively cold, the chill seeping into Steve's bones as he approached Peter's bedside. The child's face was ghostly pale, his lips tinged blue from the frigid air. Even in sleep, Peter's expression was contorted with pain, his lower lip trembling with each shallow breath.
Steve's chest tightened at the sight, his mind reeling with a mix of anger and despair.
What kind of monster would torture a kid like this.
"We're here, Peter," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to stroke Peter's hair.
He swiftly undid the restraints, his heart breaking with each click of the buckles, "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry, son."
Natasha rushed into the room, her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes widened at the sight of the kid, "Oh my God, Peter," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. Dropping to her knees beside the bed, she reached out to caress his face, her fingertips brushing against his skin. With a gentle touch, she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, her breath hitching with unspoken worry.
Steve carefully cradled Peter in his arms, "Can you hear us, kiddo? We're going to get you out of here. Hang in there."
In that moment, all that mattered was soothing Peter's discomfort.
Soft murmurs of voices stirred Peter from his sleep. His eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to open them. Natasha's familiar figure trailed behind the man carrying him, eliciting a half-smile to grace his lips. "I know they're going to save me," he thought. His gaze then fell upon the blue-striped uniform his head rested against, instantly recognizing the man carrying him.
"Quinjet's already waiting downstairs," Natasha led them, holding Peter's small hand.
As they approached, Bruce emerged from the Quinjet, arms laden with blankets. Cap was about to transfer Peter into Bruce's arms but Peter clung tightly to him. He was about to try and talk to Peter that it's okay now, he's in safe hands, but Bruce quickly understood the sudden reflex.
"It's okay Cap, just hold him for now," he said, gently wrapping a blanket around Peter while Steve continued to carry him.
Cap asked anxiously, "Will he be alright?" as Bruce and the medical team conferred and attended to Peter, assessing his overall condition.
Natasha said softly, her fingers intertwined with Peter's icy hand, "He will be."
"Honey, I can't reach any further and you can't stay there. All right? You've got to let go. You've got to let go! I'll catch you, I promise."
Tony stretched his hand out towards Pepper, his heart pounding in his chest as she remained just out of reach. Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of Pepper's danger, her life hanging by a thread while he strained to save her.
Just a little bit closer, honey, please.
The rig Pepper is in suddenly collapsed and she lost her balance.
"No!" Tony's scream pierced the chaos as their fingertips brushed for a fleeting moment, and he watched helplessly as she plummeted hundreds of feet into the inferno below, her hand still outstretched toward him.
I - I almost... I almost had her.
Tony couldn't believe it, he just watched Pepper die in front of his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch any longer, turning away as the weight of grief began to consume him.
I can't save her.
His mourning was abruptly interrupted by the sight of Killian, still standing, still alive, and advancing towards him. Anger surged through Tony, eclipsing his sorrow,
"You should be the one to die," he spat, his voice thick with venom. "I'm going to end you, you fucking lunatic."
They charged at each other, locked in a deadly brawl. Tony darted past Killian, slipping into another Iron Man suit with desperate agility.
Each exchange was fierce, each blow fueled by anger. But with every suit Tony donned, Killian found a way to ravage it, leaving Tony vulnerable and exposed. Even "Shotgun," his last hope, proved futile as Killian's searing hands tore through it with ease. Tony plummeted to the ground, defenceless and defeated, stripped of his armor and his hope.
Killian was on the verge of delivering the final blow when JARVIS's voice cut through the tension, announcing the inbound arrival of the Mark 42,
"I'll be damned. The prodigal son returns," Tony sneered.
Anticipation swelled as Tony awaited the grand entrance of his creation. However, his expectations were shattered as the Mark 42 fell apart in mid-air, crashing ungracefully to the ground. Tony's embarrassment was obvious as Killian scrutinized mockingly.
"You really didn't deserve her, Tony. It's a pity. I was so close to having her perfect."
Don't try to insult her. She's already perfect.
As Killian leapt towards Tony, a spark of realization flickered in Tony's mind. "You're right," he admitted, his voice clear despite the tension in the air. "I don't deserve her." His gaze hardened, resolve settling in. "But here's where you're wrong, she was already perfect."
With a swift motion, Tony signalled for the Mark 42 to engage, its metallic arms encircling Killian before he could make a move, ensnaring him in its grasp.
"JARVIS," Tony commanded, his tone unwavering, "do me a favor and blow Mark 42."
As he slid down just moments before the Mark 42 self-destructed, he swiftly transitioned into another armor, albeit one in poor condition. A nearby rig collapsed, causing the suit to malfunction as he plummeted to the ground. Amidst the wreckage before him, a distorted figure emerged, revealing a deformed version of Killian.
This fucker got nine lives.
Killian approached Tony, confidently declaring himself to be the real Mandarin. Tony, struggling with his injuries, took a step back, readying himself for what might come next.
But before Killian could make a move, Pepper intervened unexpectedly, striking him with a swift blow.
Tony was astonished. He had believed Pepper to be lost to him, yet here she stood, ablaze with the enhanced powers granted by the virus. In a stunning display of strength, Pepper ultimately managed to defeat Killian, utilizing another Iron Man armor to deploy a bomb and eliminate the threat he posed.
"That was really violent," Pepper said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief, as she grappled with the aftermath of her actions. She never envisioned herself capable of such violence, it simply wasn't in her nature to harm another living being.
The initial plan had been to save her, yet somehow she ended up saving me instead. Just like she always does.
Tony's smile radiated genuine pride as he approached her, his admiration evident in his eyes. "Now, that's my badass girlfriend," he declared, his heart swelling with affection. He reached out to embrace her, but she hesitated, afraid she might hurt him with her newfound power.
"Am I gonna be okay?"
"No. You're in a relationship with me. Everything will never be okay. But I can figure this out, I think I can get you better."
She's now safe in his arms, yet his heart remains burdened with concern for the boy who holds the most precious place in his life.
"We're not done, Pep. Peter, I... I need to know how Peter is doing."
Just then, a Quinjet materialized nearby, its hum filling the air as it descended onto the port.
Tony's spine tingled with an icy chill as he and Pepper made their way towards it, her hand a reassuring anchor in his. With each step, his heart clenched tighter, anticipation mingling with dread as the hangar door creaked open slowly.
He only had one thought, to ensure that Peter was alright.
Tony's eyes welled as he took in the sight of his son, "Baby..." His voice cracked and his throat constricted with emotion. He had never thought to see Peter in this state.
Steve and Tony met halfway, Steve cradling Peter in his arms before gently passing the precious child into Tony's arms.
As Peter nestled into his father's embrace, he let out a contented sigh, his small hands finding their place on Tony's shoulders. Even with his eyes closed, Peter could sense the familiar hum that always brought him comfort. "Daddy..." His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried all the warmth.
"I'm here, Daddy's here now, bud," Tony said with a grin, eyes glinting, as he held the child close, planting a gentle kiss on Peter's side head, "You're safe now."
Bruce approached them explaining to Tony that Peter needed an IV but the kid had always cried and made a fit whenever he felt a needle close to him. Even the mere sight of a man or woman in a white coat also puts a scare into Peter when he sees a glimpse of them earlier. Steve had no choice but to order everyone to throw whatever white coat there was.
"He's severely dehydrated, Tony."
As Bruce attempted once more, Peter unexpectedly jerked from Tony's embrace startling all of them, "No, no, no, get it away from me!"
Tony gently held onto Peter's arms, soothing him with a tender voice, "Baby... hey, hey, hey. It's okay. I got you... Baby, look at me."
Bruce backed away again as Peter began to sob uncontrollably. "I don't wanna… I don't— I don't want—," Peter cried, his voice trembling with pain. "I don't want to— It hurts, Dad. Please, I don't. I don't want to."
What have they done to my son.
The sight brought tremendous pain to all of them, especially Tony. If he could just destroy all of the things that could hurt Peter, he already did.
"Baby, please, focus on me… It's alright. I got you. It's gonna be okay." With an urgency to soothe Peter's distress, Tony's mind raced to find comfort for him, and then it struck him – fireworks, Peter's favourite, "JARVIS, you know what to do."
It's time for him to shed the suits—a symbolic gesture indicating his liberation from the shackles of paranoia about the unsteady future, "The clean slate protocol, Sir?"
"Screw it, it's Christmas. Yes." With those words, he secured Peter into his tight embrace. Around them, the Iron Man suits erupted into a dazzling display of fireworks, illuminating the night sky. Peter gazed up, his lips finally curving into a smile. Fireworks always held a special place in his heart. Dad never failed to provide him with a spectacular fireworks display on each of his birthdays.
As Peter watched the fireworks, Tony signalled for Bruce to approach, and the IV was carefully administered to Peter without him noticing.
Tears streamed down Peter's cheeks as he felt a slight pinch in his hand, while Dad kissed the side of his head, "It's okay. I'm here. Daddy's here, baby."
In a matter of moments, it was all done, and Dad kissed his forehead, securing him into a warm embrace, "That's my brave boy."
In Dad's arms, he finally felt safe. He finally felt home.
Tony gently rubbed Peter's back, wrapping the blanket snugly around his son as they journeyed back to the Tower.
Throughout the entire flight, Peter remained nestled in Tony's embrace. Tony held him protectively, his arms a shield against the pain Peter had endured.
Instead of heading to the impersonal confines of a hospital, Tony ordered them straight to the Medical Bay within the Tower. Here, there were no sterile white walls or intimidating coats, just the familiarity of their own space.
Steve and Natasha briefed Pepper on the harrowing events, conveying what they had witnessed in that room. Pepper, in turn, relayed the information to Tony. Each detail served as a reminder of the trauma Peter had endured, stirring a deep sense of regret within Tony. He cursed himself for not being there to save his son from harm.
He was supposed to protect his son. So many times, Peter had been in danger. So many times, and he'd always been there to stop it. But now, Peter was left all alone, helpless.
"You got to stop blaming yourself, Tony. You got to stop blaming them," Pepper said gently as she moved closer to sit beside him, reaching out to rub his arm while Peter remained nestled in Tony's embrace, "If there's anyone to blame it's Killian, and he's gone now."
Pepper knew that Tony understood her words deeply, although it would be hard for him to admit. She realized that healing would take time for all of them.
She took over holding Peter for a while, urging Tony to take a shower and eat. Tony initially protested, but Pepper insisted, leaving him no choice but to follow since Peter now began to regain his strength, the colour returning to his cheeks.
"I'm so sorry this happened, sweetheart," Pepper said, a tear escaping her eye as she held Peter close.
The doctors delivered their diagnosis, Peter was severely dehydrated, bearing bruises on his wrists and arms from repeated needle insertions, and his legs from kicking stuff up too much. Despite extensive tests, no viral presence or antibodies were detected. It became evident that his assailant had continuously drawn blood from him for an extended duration. Moreover, such trauma deepened complications in his psychological state.
Tony understood the psychological impact of trauma all too well. While physical injuries may fade with time, emotional wounds often require more care and attention.
His own experiences bore witness to this truth, from the grief following the sudden loss of his parents, particularly his mother, to the harrowing ordeal of being kidnapped, and then the traumatic descent through the wormhole. Each event left an unforgettable mark on his psyche, resurfacing from time to time as painful reminders.
The doctors advised that Peter attend counselling sessions with both a psychiatrist and a therapist for the foreseeable future, while Pepper insisted that Tony should also seek similar support.
As Christmas morning dawned, Peter awoke feeling much more refreshed and safe with Dad by his side. As he stirred, he observed his father already beginning to rouse. The room was bathed in the glow of morning sunlight, casting a serene ambiance. With a soft touch, Tony ran his fingers through Peter's hair,
"How do you feel now, bud? Does it hurt anywhere?"
Peter shook his head, "I'm okay," he said, managing a smile as he hugged his dad's chest.
Tony leaned in and gently kissed the top of his son's head. It's moments like this that Tony felt as if he already had everything he needed in his life.
Tony gently carried Peter in his arms, mindful of Peter's healing legs as they stepped outside and spotted Pepper near the kitchen.
"Oh, Peter, my sweetheart, Merry Christmas," Pepper's eyes lit up as they entered the room, a warm smile spreading across her face as she embraced the kid.
The table was adorned with all of Peter's favourite dishes, a testament to Pepper's thoughtfulness on this special day. It's Christmas after all.
Christmas had brought a sense of togetherness, evident in Pepper's invitation for the rest of the team to join them. Bruce, ever attentive, checked Peter's vitals once more, finding no further complications. With the reassurance of Peter's improved condition and a well-deserved rest, he gently removed the dextrose from Peter's hand.
Peter sat on Tony's lap as they all ate together. Tony kept his cool around Steve, Nat, and Bruce, but despite his efforts, Pepper couldn't shake the sense of tension lingering in the air. It was clear to her that they were all tip-toeing around each other, while Peter remained blissfully unaware. After breakfast, Pepper found an excuse for them to gather and clean up the dishes, hoping to create an opportunity for everyone to address the underlying tension.
Pepper gently carried Peter into the living room, where they both paused to admire the array of gifts beneath the twinkling Christmas tree. Anticipation filled the air as they looked forward to unwrapping each present and celebrating together later.
After enduring a heavy atmosphere for some time, Bruce finally broke the wall of silence as he placed the dishes in the sink, "I'm truly sorry, Tony. We all are," he confessed, his voice weighed down by remorse. As the one closest to Tony on the team, Bruce was determined not to let this mistake tarnish their forged friendship. They all recognized their fault and carried the weight of guilt.
"I'm sure Pepper already told you what happened," Steve confessed, his voice laden with guilt, pausing in the midst of washing the plates, "I guess we got too preoccupied that we didn't get to notice immediately that we're being followed."
Natasha paused from wiping down the table, her gaze shifting to Tony beside her, "We didn't mean for it to happen, Tony. I'm sorry. When Peter ran away from our sight, it happened too fast. I wished I could've been there sooner before he was taken."
It's rare to see Black Widow apologize for her mistakes, she typically ensures her actions flow faultlessly. It was an honest mistake on her part to momentarily lose sight of Peter to take care of the enemy.
"We understand if you can't forgive us right away, Tony. It was our fault, and we deeply regret what happened. We're genuinely sorry for the pain it caused. Peter doesn't deserve any of that," Steve's apologetic eyes remained fixed on Tony, whose silence hung heavy in the air.
A pregnant pause enveloped the room before Tony finally broke the silence,
"You know," he began, his voice carrying weight, "one of the most humbling lessons I've learned from being a parent is that you cannot protect your child 24/7, no matter how hard you try…"
His gaze shifted towards Peter, who's now laughing with Pepper as if nothing had happened.
"Despite my best efforts of protecting him," Tony continued, his tone tinged with a blend of regret, "From all the things that had put Peter in danger- from Obadiah's, Whiplash's, the Expo disaster, the invasion, even from the media, and his bullies in school. Shit still happens no matter how I wanted to protect him, no matter how I try and shield him from anything that can hurt him."
In the quiet reflection of the room, Tony grappled with the weight of his responsibility, acknowledging the limits of his power, yet unable to shake the nagging feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, he could've done more.
He turned his gaze toward them, his expression softening,
"You may have lost my son, but you also managed to find him and bring him back to me. Knowing he's safe now, that's what truly matters. So, I guess that's good enough for me to forgive you guys, and to express my thanks for fulfilling your promise."
Tony's words brought a genuine smile to everyone's face. They each expressed their gratitude to Tony afterward, and as they continued cleaning up, a sense of ease settled among them once more.
As the crackling fire illuminated the room with its gentle glow later that night, the air was filled with the excitement of gift-giving. Peter's eyes began to spark with its usual joy as each thoughtful present was exchanged among them.
Despite the chaos and hardships they faced, they found solace in celebrating Christmas as a time of happiness and forgiveness amidst it all.
Seated comfortably, Tony felt an overwhelming sense of gratefulness wash over him.
The greatest gift he could ever hope for was already nestled in his arms—his son, Peter, embracing him tightly.
After several days of meticulous tinkering, Tony achieved success in eradicating the Extremis virus from Pepper's body.
Encouraged by Pepper's persistent urging over the years, Tony also made the momentous decision to undergo open-heart surgery, aiming to extract the shrapnel perilously close to his heart and remove the arc reactor from his body. Reconnecting with Dr. Wu, whom he had met years earlier alongside Yinsen, Tony picked him as the lead cardiothoracic surgeon for his surgery.
Peter stood alongside Pepper and Uncle Rhodes, peering through the glass window of the operating room as they supported his father. With a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up, Peter conveyed courage to Tony, signalling the start of the surgery. As the shrapnel was successfully removed, Peter anxiously awaited his father's return to the room.
Since Peter's unease with the sterile environment of white rooms and white coats still lingered, prior to the surgery, Tony insisted that no one near the perimeter of the medical bay wear a white coat. They ensured the room was adorned with a soothing mix of blues, creating a more welcoming atmosphere for Peter.
After spending some time in the recovery area, Tony's hospital bed was wheeled back into his room. Peter approached the bed and climbed up, settling himself beside his father.
"Dad..." he murmured softly, reaching out to gently touch his father's arm. Worry etched across his face as he remembered reading somewhere that sometimes people didn't wake up from surgery. He silently prayed that his father wouldn't be one of them.
"Careful now, dear. Your father needs rest so he can recover quickly." The nurse checking his Dad reminded him.
"He's going to wake up later, right?" Peter asked, his gaze fixed on his father's serene form.
"Right. Of course, dear. There's no need to worry." the nurse reassured him with a comforting smile before departing. Peter expressed his thanks as she left.
A few moments later, he saw Dad opening his eyes,
"Come here, bud," gesturing for Peter to lie down beside him.
He shook his head as a way of saying no, "I might hurt you, Dad. The nurse said you need to rest—"
"You're never going to hurt me. Come on." Dad reassured gently.
Finally relenting, Peter nestled his head into his father's arm, embracing him sideways.
"See? You just fit perfectly fine here," Dad chuckled softly as Peter laughed in agreement.
Tony closed his eyes once more, inhaling the familiar baby powder scent of his son's hair, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over him.
Peter closed his eyes, lulled by the soothing melody of a brand-new lullaby, gently guiding him into sleep. The once-droning hum of the arc reactor had ceased, replaced now by the comforting rhythm of his father's heartbeat, a sound he hadn't heard in years. It used to be his favourite, before his father's abduction. Yet, here it was again, a familiar embrace in the night, bringing a smile to Peter's lips. He was grateful his father had found a way to reclaim this precious heartbeat.
Tony gazed out at the boundless expanse of the Pacific Ocean from the shores of Malibu, his grip around Peter's hand. Returning here felt like bidding farewell not just to the house and the cherished memories it held, but also to the shadows of his past that had cast over their lives of late.
With them was Butterfingers, unexpectedly the true prodigal son, discovered amidst the debris by his diligent workers. Tony ordered its retrieval without hesitation.
With a powerful throw, he tossed the Arc Reactor, a symbol of past achievements, and turned his attention to his son by his side – his most significant creation, far surpassing any technology he had ever invented.
At that moment, Tony came to a profound realization: he didn't need the suits, the arc reactor, or any of his gadgets to define him.
Amidst it all, one truth stood unshakable:
One thing they can't take away is that,
I am Iron Man.