chapter eleven
healing hands
UNSHED TEARS GLISTEN IN THE SULLEN EYES OF ANALISA MORGAN, yet not a singular droplet falls; the act of crying once more seeming to be far too exhausting in that moment. Slouched over upon a seat inside the plane, the hero, who, beneath her brave facade, was merely human, clutching a gold wedding band within her shaking hands. The golden item was the very one which Quentin Beck had gifted her upon fighting the fire elemental, which he had so beautifully concocted to fool both her and Peter.
"What was I thinking?" She mutters softly, emotions seeping out from her every word. Recent memories of how she'd so quickly come to trust Quentin flood her mind as she stares down upon the ring; memories of how she'd fallen for him with such ease. Looking back upon those times, a sickly feeling arose from deep in her stomach, as she can now realise that he had taken the same things that had made her love another man, love Tony, and duplicated them. That same charm, the kind nature, and the care that radiated from Tony, Quentin had put upon a facade to replicate this. "I thought the lies were finally over. I'm still so fucking naive."
Happy, whom Analisa, in her moment consumed by despair, had failed to notice was close by, and thus, in hearing range of her mumblings, sends an empathetic glance toward the woman; his heart cracking ever so slightly for his friend. Yet, he utters not even a single word in an attempt to comfort her, as he had come to learn that while she is entangled by her emotions, his words, for the most part, would only fall on deaf ears. It mattered only to her if she was within the presence of those she trust, and from there, she must seek her own salvation from her thoughts.
Picking up the supplies needed to stitch a wound on Peter, Happy wanders over to the boy after one last glance at Analisa. Sliding on a pair of glasses so he could more accurately see his work, he sits down on a chair behind Peter, taking the needle required in his hand. He gently begins working upon stitching up the boy's wound, offering a few words seconds before he does so. "Okay. Hold still. Here we go."
As the, albeit unpleasant, process of stitching up his wound commences, Peter winces at the feeling of the needle entering his skin. "Ouch," he mutters lowly, a grimace worm upon his youthful, yet worn down by the reality of the world around him, features. It takes every ounce of self-control not to flinch away from the item intended to fix him, knowing it'd only further the pain.
"I thought you had super strength?" Happy inquires, continuing to stitch up the wound of the boy despite the stinging sensation it causes Peter, knowing that the wound may get infected if left untreated for any longer. He composure at that moment is far better kept than that of the boy, an odd sense of calm still upon him.
"It still hurts," Peter responds with a slight annoyance seeping into his tone, the events of that godforsaken day weighing heavy upon his shoulders, and sending his usual emotions into a skyrocketed state. As Happy continues to stitch up his wound, the sharp pain in his shoulder erupts once more, and this time, he flinches. "Happy-"
"All right, relax," Happy tells the teenager, trying to simply ease the nerves of Peter, even if only in the slightest of ways. However, his attempt to do so is proven ineffective, as once again, as Peter abruptly slams his fist against the table out of pain, uttering another exclaim. "Relax!"
"Don't tell me to relax, Happy. How can I relax when I messed up so bad?" Jolting upwards from his seat at the small table, Peter raises his voice to a lever near a shout, emotion burning bright within his eyes. Taking a few paces away from Happy, he casts his gaze back to the man, continuing to rant. "I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend, so I gave him the only thing Mr Stark left behind for me and now he's gonna kill my friends and half of Europe, so please, do not tell me to relax."
As the frustration which had once loudly called to him begins to settle down, Peter drops to sit in a chair, one beside where Analisa sits, watching the situation with saddened eyes. He glances up at Happy through his red-rimmed eyes, which had gained their colour from tears, guilt for his sudden outburst filling him. "I'm sorry, Happy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't shout. I just really miss him."
"Yeah, I miss him too," with a deeply-rooted sadness swelling within the depths of him, and shimmering in his eyes, Happy agrees with the boy. While he stares in the direction of Peter, his eyes do not lock into any specific thing, as instead, the man seeming in a haze of nostalgia.
"Everywhere I go..." Peter continues, hesitating for a second as his voice threatens to break beneath the heavyweight of his emotions. "I see his face. And... the whole world is asking who is gonna be the next Iron Man? I don't know if that's me, Happy. I'm not Iron Man."
"You're not Iron Man," Happy responds solemnly, a genuine tone inlacing his voice. "You're never gonna be Iron Man. Nobody could live up to Tony. Not even Tony. Tony was my best friend. And he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did. He was all over the place. The only thing that he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you. I don't think Tony would've done what he did if he didn't know that you were gonna be here after he was gone. Your friends are in trouble. You're all alone. The tech is missing. What are you gonna do about it?"
And for a few fleeting seconds once the speech of Happy concludes, all falls silent within the aircraft, thoughts swelling within the heads of all. And, as if the words of the man had inspired an idea to form in his head, Peter Parker stands up once more. Forming upon his youthful features is an expression of utter determination, a newfound spark shimmering in his eyes. "I'm gonna kick his ass."
Cracking the stoic exterior that had settled upon the stress-worn features of Analisa, the words which the boy speaks causes the beginnings of a small smirk to dance upon her cracked, bloodied lips. She gives a humorous thumbs up to encourage the boy, saying, "Now that's the spirit, kid."
"No, I mean, right now. Like, specifically, what are we gonna do?" Happy interrupts the mild celebration of the two heroes before it can go too far, making a point of reminding them of their current circumstances; the task that's at hand. "Because we've been hovering over a tulip field for the last fifteen minutes."
"Right. I can't call my friends because he's tracking their phones..." Peter trails off as vague thoughts of what to do trickle into his mind, him pausing for a few seconds to think. He then swiftly moves to stand in front of Happy, his hand outstretched in a manner of awaiting, staring down at him. "Give me your phone."
"My cell phone?" Happy questions, both confused and slightly taken aback by the odd request of the boy. He, in response, only receives another urge from Peter to hand over the device. Begrudgingly, Happy digs into the pocket of his suit jacket, rummaging around for his phone, pulling it out and gently handing it over to Peter. "Okay. Here."
"What's your password?" Barely even taking his eyes off the screen of the phone for a moment, Peter asks the man. However, when the only response he gets is Happy utter the word 'password', he asks once more. "No, what is your password?"
"Password. The word," Happy attempts to explain his only protection on his phone, his eyes locking with those of Peter as the boy glances up at him blankly, giving him a doubtful, questioning look. "Spell that. Password."
"You're the head of security and your password is password?" Exasperated, and with brows furrowed, Peter's gaze upon Happy doesn't break away as he merely stares ridiculously, wondering how on earth someone with such poor choices in protecting his own devices became the head of Stark secret.
"I don't feel good about it either."
Peter, brushing of the carelessness of the man, opens up an app within the phone, clicking onto a small icon on top a page. A youthful voice, with a terrible British accent masking it, echoes from the speakers, speaking about something Analisa could not hear from her spot upon a seat. Peter, however, relays such information to them, saying, "They're in London."
"London?" With a smile worn upon his lips, a plan finally formulating, Happy confirms the location, the boy returning a nod. He stands from his idle place on a stool, meandering over to the cockpit. "Okay."
"Yeah, I need a suit!"
"Suit?" Happy asked, pointing a single, understanding finger in his direction, entering the cockpit. He swiftly flips a switch upon the roof of the small area, causing a circular entryway to open from behind Peter.
Peter can't help but find himself consumed by utter awe as he turns around, surprise flooding his veins as he gazed upon a small, hidden room with technology everywhere. He glances back at Happy and Analisa, as to ensure he wasn't imagining it, and when he only received encouraging smiles, he takes a step inside the room. Somewhat of unsure how to interact with this technology, as it was new to him, he walks over to a machine on the left-hand side, which lights up as he reaches it.
"Okay, um... Bring up everything you have on Spider-Man," Peter commands. With almost a sense of child-like amazement glistening with his eyes, he watches as many realistic designs of Spider-Man suits appear above the machine. After the initial awe eases slightly, he thinks back upon the way the suit of his partner in this journey, Analisa, or Nightfall, had been utterly destroyed in the crossfire of their fight. "Oh, miss Morgan, do you want me to make you a suit too?"
"If you want, kid," Analisa smiles softly at him, her eyes, despite how tired they may be, offering a kind glance to him. He turns happily back to the machine, commencing work upon first his suit, and once he is complete, he'd make one for the woman also. While Peter is busy working away, flicking through designs for a suit, Analisa turns to Happy, speaking a few words only he could hear. "Thank you for giving him that talk. It was good; I don't think I could've done that myself."
"Sometimes everyone just needs a little push," Happy responds with the slightest beginnings of a smile upon his lips. Although the meaning of it changes, the same expression lingers upon his features as he looks upon Peter, nostalgia sparking within him. "He reminds me so much of him."
And, although Analisa Morgan does not utter a word, she silently agrees, as Peter, indeed, reminded her of Tony Stark in the best of ways. Both she and Happy stare upon the boy, nostalgia within their eyes, simply observing as he seems to work upon the new suit with such ease, as if it had come naturally to him. After a few moments of the two adults doing so with smiles upon their faces, Peter turns to them, having noticed their gazes. "What?"
"Nothing," Happy replies, shaking the thoughts of the past from his mind. His smile than morphs from its small size into a grin, a lightbulb sparking within his mind, the man turning on his heel and walking to the cockpit once again. "You take care of the suit. I'll take care of the music."
And, when Happy flips a switch, the song which is all-too-familiar to the ears of Analisa echoes out within the aircraft; Back In Black beginning to play. Peter, taking notice of the music also, speaks, flipping a wrench as he does so. "Oh! I love Led Zeppelin!"
"You still have a lot to learn, Spider-Boy," Analisa chuckles half-heartedly, her small smile expanding slightly as he corrects her, saying that his name was not as she said, and was, in fact, Spider-Man.
And so it continues, Happy beginning to fly the plane over to London as AC/DC blasts through the speakers, and with Peter continuing to work on the new suits in the male-shift lab. Analisa, however, simply continues to watch the boy work, her smile fading from her lips as silence prevails, and the initial anticipation of the fight continuing wears off. Instead, in its place, there is only heartbreak, doubt, and above all else, sheer exhaustion.
Her eyelids, tugged down by the same exhaustion that agonisingly lingers within her body, begin to flutter closed, any attempts the woman puts forth to fight against the grip of unconsciousness failing. And, as she is transported away into the realm of sleep, she can't fend off the unwanted memory that floods her mind; playing upon the back of her eyelids.
✗✗✗
Tony Stark, the man whom had once been on top of the world, but had fallen upon the verge of losing all he loved, sits in front a half-destroyed helmet of his Iron-Man suit. His eyes appear dimmer than they once had, dimmer than they had been even a few mere days ago, his loses and time spent upon some space-ship weighing heavily upon him. His gaze appears distant as he stares at his helmet, his voice hoarse as he speaks; any means of sustaining life upon the spaceship having been in short supply.
"Please know that when I drift off, it'll be like every night lately. I'm fine, totally fine. I dream about you. Because it's always you." And, with these words said to end his one final message to the woman he loves, Tony clicks a button on the helmet to bring an end to the recording. Now, he could only hope that, even if years after his demise, that his words would find some way to reach Pepper.
Annalisa Morgan leans gently upon the doorframe which leads into the room Tony occupied, the woman having heard the final few words of his message. She stares upon the broken hero with pity entangling her gaze, the already prominent cracks within her heart only growing larger as he lingers in pain. She knew that despite the tough front he attempts to uphold even after they'd lost, badly, his heat was causing him agony beneath. Even he couldn't ignore the fact that death was creeping upon them, as it had with their friends; their family.
With any words of comfort being lost within her mind, Analisa silently approaches the man who had been by her side through thick and thin; taking a seat beside him. He spares a solemn glance toward her as she stumbles down beside him, neither having any of the right words to speak. And so, the two friends sit in silence, one which brought comfort into the hearts of them both, the mere presence of the other by their side reminding them that, even when shrouded by darkness, they are not alone.
"I'm sorry," Analisa mutters lowly, her small, barely audible words being the first to shatter the silence in which lingers over them. Desperately pushing back any emotion that had remained bottled up within her for a while, years even, as when her eyes meet with the man she loved in secret, they threatened to spill out all at once.
"For what?" Tony asks in an equally genuine tone, his forehead creasing slightly as his eyebrows draw together in confusion. Weakly, he turns his head to glance upon the female, concern toward her swelling in his heart as he takes notice of the sorrowful way her lips are turned down, and the darkness within her eyes.
"For everything..." she trails off briefly, a haze of memory forming in her eyes as she recounts what had come to pass. "From being an absolute asshole to you when we first met, for saying the things I did, to not choosing your side when the Avengers split, and you needed me. Because in hindsight, you were right, you were always right. You knew he was coming, but we just wouldn't fucking listen."
"You have nothing to apologise for," Tony responds, and simply by his tone, you could tell that he believed in the words he speaks. He watches as the woman's eyes avert to the ground, in a somewhat shameful manner, yet he continues regardless. "I don't blame you for anything that's happened. You fought by my side when it mattered most, even though we once had fought against each other. You deserve better than to die on this ship."
"I've fucked up, Tony, so many times. You shouldn't forgive me for what I've done." Analisa's eyes remain glued on the floor beneath her as she utters these few words, the same old feeling that she did not deserve the man beside her emerging. In her mind, she did not doubt that, if she hadn't of taken the actions she did, they wouldn't be in this situation. "And if anyone is the one that deserves to get off this ship, that's you."
"All you ever did was what you thought was right. When we first met, you saved my life, even though I was the enemy. And when you realised you were on the wrong side, you helped the good guys," Tony then pauses, the reminiscent glint within his eye shining brighter than any other. "I wish we could find a way off this damn ship. But if I'm to die, it's an honour to die beside you."
The ghosts of an appreciative smile dance lightly upon the lips of Analisa, yet, she does not have the energy, nor the will to complete this gesture. Though she does not respond verbally, Tony understands she feels the same. And, as she regains the energy to look him in the eyes once more, her heart screams at her to finally tell them, to express her true feeling to him before it's too late; to finally let him know despite it meaning little now.
But she goes against the instinct of her heart, and she swallows down the emotions which had arisen from within as an eternal battle had raged within her. It was not the right time to share the secret she'd kept for so long, nor would it ever be. He was better off without the burdening knowledge of her feelings - he could remain blissful for once in his life.
"You know, before this all happened, I was thinking about the idea of having a kid with Pepper," Tony, wishing to avoid yet another silence, and lighten the mood, even if slightly, announces this. He turns to gaze at Analisa, who was already looking back at him, a genuine admiration for his friend held in his eyes. "I had the idea to name them Morgan, after you. Even though we weren't talking then, you have done so much for me in the past, I felt like it'd only be fair."
"Tony, I don't know what to say. It would have been an honour," Analisa offers the man a small, thankful smile, her aching heart warmed by the words uttered into the open air. However, this expression falls with haste, as the reality of their situation strikes her with great strength; a dry, humourless chuckle bypassing her lips as she notices the irony of their situation. "I guess we never get the lives we want, huh? A purple space- grape screwed it up for us. It's bullshit."
And, with such ease, the tone of the situation loses what little joy they'd desperately cling onto. Unshed tears glimmer within the eyes of Analisa, tears not only for her inevitable end, but Tony's also. Tony, hating wanting to see the woman in pain, forces a smile upon his lips, and he gives her shoulder a gentle, friendly nudge. "Hey, at least we've had a good run."
"We have, haven't we?" She smiles vaguely in return, a gesture fuelled only by the presence of the man by her side, even as their end awaits them. A tear finally escapes from the vice-like clutches of her eye, and the moment one falls, the rest follow, cascading down her dirty, bloodied cheeks. Bothering not to wipe them away, knowing no judgement would come from Tony, she gently rests her head upon the shoulder of the man, exhaustion finally taking its toll. In return, he wraps a singular, comforting arm around her, the two friends both allowing their vulnerability to show as their hearts weigh heavy. "Goodnight, Tony."
"Goodnight, Ana," Tony responds, his voice breaking as he does, a stray tear managing to escape his eye also. Both heroes knew that the chances of them ever opening their eyes again were slim, and that their goodnights may be their final goodbye. But as they'd mentioned prior, both were at ease if they were to be victims of fate, even if they wished otherwise; as long as they were beside one another.
But destiny had not been prepared to take them that day, as, against what they'd thought, they'd awaken once more, and to the view of a certain odd glowing figure whom would deliver them back to earth. And, despite their willingness to die whilst by the side of one another, only one would fall victim of fate in the battle to defeat their greatest enemy. The other was still awaiting their time to face death once more; the time when fate will finally take them.
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A/N
I hope the Anntony content in
this chapter thoroughly watered
your crops, even though this is
meant to be a Quentin Beck
story. Whoopsies 😅
Okay, so, this book is not too
far from it's end? I wanted to
know if any of you would be
interested in reading a prequel
to this story set in Iron Man,
The Avengers, and so forth?
If so, please let me know.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed
this chapter, and that you
have a great day! 😊💛