Irondad and Spiderson

He's Not Coming, Peter

    So, instead, Pepper stared through the windows at the sky. She imagined all the times that she and Tony had gone on the roof of the tower and stared up at the blackness of the sky, had traced shapes in the stars. Once, they had stayed up until the sun broke over the horizon, talking about anything and everything. A single tear slips over her cheek, smearing the dried blood caked there.

    The elevator shudders, starting to climb. With each passing second, Pepper is closer to death. Closer to the sky. It reaches the top, and the door opens. The wall of the elevator that Pepper rests her back against begins to push out, moving her limp figure to the start of a five foot long walkway with rails on either side. She pulls herself up with one of the rails. She cries with the pain of the movement, the blackness threatening to move across the entirety of her vision. She eventually manages to do it, supporting herself and shakily walking closer to the edge.

    Underneath her is a pit of fire.

    She closes her eyes, thinking about the one thing that toys viciously with her mind each night: Aldrich Killian and falling to her death into the fire.

    She has nightmares about it, and she knows that Tony does, too. She hears him on the nights that she manages to get him to sleep. He talks about how sorry he is that he didn’t catch her, and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do without her. She always holds him close to her, letting him know, even in sleep, that he has someone there with him.

    Who will do that for him now?

    Peter watches Pepper be dragged away. She’s tired and helpless. He’s never seen such a broken look cross her face. But he catches it, the glimmer of a word across her lips as she is pulled away from him: I’m sorry. And as she disappears out of sight, Peter is sorry, too. He’s sorry that he couldn’t protect her. And that he let his guard down. He’s sorry that he got them into this whole mess by being caught by May in the first place.

    He’ll never apologize for going to Mr. Stark’s house. Or getting to know Pepper and Tony. He will never be sorry for the memories he created with them, both good and bad. He will never apologize for the way he feels about them, or the way he let them into his heart. He will never feel bad for the love that he feels for both of them. And as Peter sits there, scared, helpless, and weak, he promises himself that the last thing he’ll think of when he dies is Pepper and Tony, smiling at him and calling him their son.

    Because all he wanted in life was to have people who love him.

    Aunt May comes back around the corner, grim determination on her face, but an excited look in her eyes. Peter notices that Pepper is not with her. And the tears break through his eyes. They slither down his face, sliding through the dried dirt and remnants of other tears.

    He’s brought to his feet and roughly dragged away. He’s led far from where he originally was and under a room that still stands from the building. Apparently, the entire building hadn’t been destroyed when it collapsed.

    Around the room are columns, just like in the main part that Peter had been crushed under. On each column is a ring of explosives, all with a timer set for midnight. Aunt May drags Peter to the center of the room and ties his ropes to a metal pole sticking straight out of the ground. He leans against it for support, taking in tight breaths that don’t lift the sinking, hopeless feeling in his chest.

    “I really am sorry about all this Peter.” Aunt May says, finishing tying the knot on his ropes. “I wish there was another way to get to Tony, but you’re the only option here. My hands are tied. I love you, Peter.”

    “No.” Peter coughs blood onto the ground. “If you loved me in any way, you wouldn’t be trying to hurt my family.”

    “They are not your family, Peter.” Aunt May says angrily. “I am all you have left.”