Missing Faces In Empty Pictures

Chapter 8

Peter slams the window before ripping the mask off his face and hurling it across the room. Red hot fury burns his every bone. It wasn't enough for the universe to rip everything away from him; it had to rub it in his face too. Torturing him with the one person he's needed most of all.

One fell swoop of his hand sends miscellaneous trinkets accumulated on his desk crashing to the floor. Tony's eyes remain to tear into his soul even now: vacant, hard, indifferent. To him, their little excursion on the rooftop had been nothing more than a formality. A check in the box on a long list of chores he needed to attend to. Little did he know that his presence alone was enough to send his "spiderling" spiraling back down a hole of depression that he'd just, after months of effort, climbed himself out of.

A growl works its way up Peter's throat. He had finally been happy; or, more accurately, he'd finally been content with the cards life threw at him. Sure, work may not have been great all the time, but it gave him purpose. It gave him a routine; something normal. He'd made peace with his decision. He'd moved on. And now it was all crumbling down again. Every wall he'd fought so hard to build, obliterated by the sound of a dearly missed voice.

I wonder if he'll come after me?

He hopes not, but at the same time his traitorous heart prays that he does. If for no other reason than because chasing him down would prove that Tony still cared for him in some capacity.

But no. It had to be this way. It was better this way. Tony in his life would only make things harder for him than they already were. He can't keep hoping that Peter Parker can still exist as he once did. That Peter Parker; the old Peter Parker, the one who built legos with Ned after school and forced Mr. Stark to watch some lame movies with him on the weekends, was dead. He has been for two years, and he wasn't going to come back now. "With great power comes great responsibility." That was what May told him and he failed. Failed her, failed his friends, failed Mr. Stark. It was his fault his aunt was dead; his fault that time and space itself was almost sent spiraling out of control. And it was all because he was selfish. Well not anymore. These were the consequences of his actions, just or unjust as they may be, and he had to live with them.

Rage slowly bleeds into a deep grief. One Peter knew well. Exhausted, he falls on his bed, finally allowing the tears to come. In solitude, he grieves for an old life. For the people he loves who he has to let go.

"He did it for you, you know." He never stopped looking for a way to get you back."

Well what a cruel, twisted fate this is Mr. Stark. You were willing to give your life for me and what have I done with it besides becoming the world's biggest screw up? Even if you could remember me, would you even like what you saw?

He squeezes his eyes shut as if preventing vision would somehow make the monsters in the closet disappear. The next few weeks are going to be rough. With all the press surrounding Tony's return, there is nowhere that Peter can hide from his grief. It's like the time after the world thought Tony had died. When everywhere you looked someone was paying tribute to the savior of the universe. Only this time it was worse, because this time Tony was so close, yet just out of reach.

Mr. Stark, there are so many things I wish you could know. I need you now more than ever. And not just for your advice, but because you're my-

What? What was Tony to him? If you had asked him a few years ago he would have said mentor without hesitation, but now, he doesn't think that title goes deep enough.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused as to the relationship here. What is he, your ward?"

They had never addressed it; that growing connection between them. It had started after the Vulture incident though. From that point on, Tony had personally taken him under his wing; inserting himself in Peter's life more than he ever thought possible. It wasn't just because of Spider-Man though. Tony had seemed genuinely interested in him as Peter. He'd cared about him as Peter. When he would come to the tower after a bad night on patrol, Tony would waste no time in taking care of him, not because he was worried about Spider-Man, but because he worried for Peter's safety. With every advancement made to his suits, Peter knew that Tony was looking out for him; protecting him in any way possible.

For a while, Peter felt as if they were becoming inseparable. Every weekend he would stay with Tony, working on his suit or just simply spending time together. It felt so easy to be around him. As though he didn't have to pretend to be someone he was not.

It was the type of relationship he'd hadn't felt since Ben died, and that had scared him. It wasn't easy for Peter to open up to people, especially after all the loss he'd dealt with in his short life, but Tony made it feel easy. Natural. It became an unspoken thing then. The thing they shared between them. Peter felt it, and he imagined that Tony did too. The people around them would allude to it; comments such as "Tony when did you become such a Dad" making Peter blush and feel warm inside. But they personally never broke the silence. In hindsight Peter wishes that could have been different.

Maybe in another world.

The tears had slowed their course down his cheeks; reduced now to a gentle flow. Head resting on the comfort of his pillow, Peter feels his eyelids become heavy as sleep looms over him. He takes it, desperate to quiet the memories in his head.

Goodnight Mr. Stark, wherever you are.