Around him the world burned.
Peter spun frantically, eyes searching for the familiar red and gold suit, the familiar whirring of repulsors-
But found deathly silence.
Thanos' armies were crumbling, turning to dust as he himself had done, not even a day ago-
Or five years.
Then he heard the sobbing.
Dread growing, he bounded towards it, stumbling, and slowing to a stop when he saw the source.
Dimly he was aware of the heroes parting before him, eyes tired, and full of grief.
He couldn't look.
It would make it real.
But a weak whisper of his name reached his ears, and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees. "Dad? Dad, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Just hang on."
He spun around, eyes darting to where the sorcerers were, finding Doctor Strange. "Please, you have to help him!"
A weak hand pulled at his arm, and he gripped Tony's hand with his own. "Dad?"
A glimmer of recognition showed in the lifeless eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted in what could have been a smile.
"You can't go. You can't." Peter took a shuddering breath, eyes blurry with tears. "I need you."
The dark eyes searched his face, love showing so brightly and then it was gone, like a candle being snuffed out.
A scream tore from Peter's throat, broken, and desperate, and painful.
I can't lose him
Not again
People were rushing around, and he was being pulled into one of the glowing orange portals.
His movements were automatic.
Sit.
Eat.
Sleep.
No conscious thought.
If he let himself think, it would hurt.
So he didn't.
Tony would live.
They told him, with grave eyes, and hard faces, that he had lost his arm.
That he would have died if they didn't amputate.
That Pepper was on her way, after stopping to get someone named Morgan.
That there was a room prepared for him.
That he should sleep.
But he couldn't.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw the ruined face of his father, and heard the way he'd whispered Peter's name.
And so, much like the thinking, he just didn't close his eyes.
It was easier that way.
He was in a room, or a suite, and was alone.
Well, not really alone.
There was someone in the other room.
But the room he was in was isolated.
Empty.
A knock sounded on the closed door, and it opened.
"Peter?"
It was Pepper.
She was leading a small girl with dark hair and eyes.
He couldn't bring himself to speak, staring at her with empty eyes.
"Hey." She crouched in front of him, hands cradling his face. "Are you okay?"
My dad is dying! He wanted to scream. He's dying and I can't do anything about it.
But he couldn't scream at her.
Not with a child in the room.
Not when it wasn't her fault.
So he nodded mutely.
Then he was being drawn into a warm hug, and she was kissing the side of his head. "We missed you so much."
He nodded again.
Words stuck in the back of his throat, burning, but he still couldn't force them out.
The tiny girl stepped up beside him, small hands twisting the front of her dress. "Are you Peter? My daddy's Peter?"
"Yeah." He was surprised that he'd managed to get that one word out. "Yeah."
She tilted her head to the side. "Can I snuggle you?"
He nodded slowly.
"My name's Morgan," she said matter-of-factly, after she had climbed into his lap. "I'm your sister. We have an alpaca. His name is Gerald. I also have a spiderman toy. Daddy said you're spiderman? That's really cool. I wanna be a superhero someday. Can you teach me?"
The questions came so quickly that he couldn't keep up with them.
Pepper saved him from having to answer by stopping in to pick her up. "Come on baby. Let's go see Aunty Nat, okay? I think Peter wants to see dad."
His sort-of mother figure held her hand out, pulling him to his feet. "You can see him for a bit, then I want you to eat and sleep. Alright?"
He nodded again.
She didn't seem satisfied with that, but let it go.
His dad looked like death.
His face was pale, his skin looking paper thin, and charred around his right shoulder and neck.
Eyes closed, he looked like he could be dead.
Other than the beeping of the heart monitor, it felt like he had truly died on the battlefield.
"Dad?" Peter slid into the chair beside the bed, lifting Tony's hand to his cheek. "Hey. I guess- I guess you heard me cause you're not- you're still here."
A sob worked its way up his throat. "I'm scared."
His dad would always make the fear go away.
Holding him, making him laugh, watching movies when he woke up screaming.
But now he was the cause of the fear, and couldn't wash the fear away.
Maybe he never would again.
The tower wasn't their home anymore.
His dad lived with Pepper- they were married?- and Morgan at a lake house.
There was an alpaca named Gerald, and a room for him.
Painted in red, grey, and blue, with all of his old belongings.
His dad wasn't awake.
Wouldn't be awake.
The doctors said he was in a coma.
Medically induced.
In the meanwhile, Pepper had taken Morgan back to the lake house, Peter refusing to leave the bedside.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Peter refused to go back to school.
Pepper kissed his head and assured him that he didn't need to worry about it- that after the five years, the school systems were still adjusting from half the world's children reappearing.
Tony woke up on month three, day eighty two.
Peter had been curled into a small couch beside his bed, blanket tucked up to his chin, feet hanging off the end, when the heart monitor sped up, jerking the teen out of his light doze, and sending him to the side of the bed.
His heart pounded as his dad's eyes met his own. "Dad?"
Tony's eyes darted from side to side, wide, and panicked.
Peter's hands lifted, coming to a stop just before Tony's shoulders, half afraid to touch him. "Dad? Hey, you need to- you need to calm down-"
The searching eyes locked onto the teen's face, and he felt a shiver of foreboding.
Something wasn't right.
"Who-" his dad started, voice dry and raspy. "Who are you?"
Retrograde amnesia, Bruce called it.
He went off into a long winded spiel on how it progressed, what to look for, symptoms, but Peter zoned out.
His dad had looked at him, and didn't know him.
The son that he had raised, since birth, and he didn't know him.
It hurt.
Tony was lucid.
Well, enough to understand what was happening around him.
And to comprehend what they were telling him.
He had nodded slowly, gaze drifting from one face to another. "Thought I was missing something."
A small smile pulled up the corner of his lips, and he gestured for Peter to move closer with his good arm. "You're my kid then?"
Peter forced a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Yeah. Are you- are you feeling okay?"
"I've felt better." His dad sighed heavily, wincing as he tried to sit up. "C'mon. Help me out."
Doctor Cho stepped forward quickly, pushing him back down onto his pillow. "Behave or I'll have to sedate you."
Tony subsided quickly, eyes narrowing. "Just tryna hug my kid."
His arm flailed weakly, clasping onto Peter's shoulder. "Need hugs."
The teen gave him tense smile, leaning down to hug his dad. "Happy now?"
He let go, pushing himself back up, only for Tony to tighten his grip. "Nope. My kid."
"Tony." Helen sounded like she was trying to repress a smile. "You need to rest."
"'M fine. Am resting."
Peter awkwardly smiled at her, adjusting his position so that he was laying on the unoccupied part of the medical bed, head resting against Tony's shoulder. "We're good, Ms Cho, ma'am. I'll make sure he doesn't rip out his IV's. Or get off the bed. Or do anything stupid."
"Thanks Peter."
After she left, and after Tony had fallen asleep, Peter retook his seat by the bed, head in his hands.
A soft knock came on the door, and Pepper slipped in.
Her eyes and nose were red, a tissue dangling from her hand.
So she knows.
"Hi." It felt weak, not enough, but she smiled slightly.
"Hey."
Peter scooted over, waving his hand at the unoccupied part of the couch. "You just missed him."
Pepper let out a breath of air. "Yeah. Cho told me. I just- I thought he was going to die out there. I really did. I could see that he didn't- didn't want to leave us, but I told him it was okay because he needed to hear it. He couldn't let himself go."
"And now you can't look at him without seeing that," Peter said quietly. "I can't either. But it's better to be here where I can hear his heartbeat, and know that it didn't happen. Makes it easier."
He looked up, eyes tired.
Not any pain, just bone chilling exhaustion.
"I've lost him so many times. And I don't- I don't think I can do it anymore. If he died- truth is I- I probably would too."
She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just pulled her son close, resting her chin on his head, and letting him sob into her shirt, for the first time letting out the pent up emotions.
"I don't want him to go."
"I know baby."
Tony remembered Morgan first.
Pepper had brought the girl in for a visit after telling her that her dad might not know who she was, so she had to be careful and quiet.
She had nodded solemnly, then tiptoed over to the side of the bed.
"Hi." Her voice was hesitant, and quiet. "Are you okay?"
Tony stared at her for several seconds, then a smile spread over his face. "You're my Morguna, aren't you?"
Morgan beamed up at him. "You remember!"
"How could I not?" His voice was teasing, and he beckoned her closer. "Come here."
Pepper lifted their daughter onto the bed, then sat back, eyes shining while Morgan explained the in-and-outs of Wakanda.
Peter looked away from the scene, heart aching.
He remembered Pepper next.
She was laughing at one of his attempts to flirt with her, and looked like he was failing miserably, but the fact that he was trying was enough to charm her.
There were tears in her eyes, blinking quickly in a futile attempt to keep them hidden.
Tony had put his hand on hers, and smiled softly. "Tears for your long lost husband?"
Pepper kissed his cheek. "Tears of joy."
Peter slipped out of the room.
It was Natasha next, a week later when she first came to visit.
The instant she stepped into Tony's room, hair pulled back into a loose bun, he had straightened up, eyes shining, and grin wide. "Nat!"
She shook her head, laughing softly. "Hey Tony. You boys can't keep yourselves out of trouble without me, can you?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
They had fallen into a hug, not letting go for several minutes.
He hadn't really meant to avoid his dad.
It just… happened.
He was busy.
He had to visit Aunt May.
Ned had dusted too, and they had to get caught up with school.
Queens was teeming with crime- not that he told Tony that, he doubted that his dad remembered about his nightly excursions- and he had patrols.
So maybe he was trying to avoid his dad.
It was hard.
His dad had barely gotten out with his life-
But he didn't remember his own son.
He still called him 'Pete', and 'kiddo', but it wasn't the same.
Out of all of them, Peter was one of the only people he still didn't remember.
Even Steve had been remembered, and they had tried to forgive and forget.
Bucky. The man who had killed his grandparents, even unwittingly.
Rhodey, his best friend.
Pepper, his wife.
Morgan. His daughter, though she didn't feel like a sister to Peter.
She was five, and he didn't know a thing about her.
Not her favorite color, her best friend, her favorite food, what she liked to read- if she could read…
He had missed out on her life.
So she didn't feel like his sister.
They just happened to share a father.
Everything came to a head after Tony was released from the hospital.
It took several hours to get back to the cabin- apparently they lived there now- and Peter spent the trip staring out the window, earbuds firmly in his ears, blasting the familiar music of 2018.
No one interrupted his reverie.
His anger felt slightly more justified when they arrived, and the family went inside, everyone familiar with the layout except Peter.
Even Tony knew his way around.
Eventually Pepper led him to a room upstairs, opening the door, and gesturing inside. "This is your room. Tony made sure it was kept clean. You can find pajamas in the closet, along with some other clothes."
She paused, seeming to consider her next words. "We- we really missed you, Peter."
Peter nodded stiffly, forcing a smile, sure that she would see through it.
Apparently not.
With one last smile, she left, and he could hear her footsteps descending to where there was a child's voice talking brightly.
Morgan.
The pajamas fit okay, and he had just gotten into bed when a knock came on the door, and his dad stepped in.
"Hey bud."
Peter mumbled a greeting, heart twinging when Tony let out a resigned sigh. "I know you're avoiding me, kid. I know that this-" he gestured vaguely with his hand. "Everything, is weird. But I'm trying to remember you. I am."
The teen gave a tiny nod, turning over, and hoping his dad got the hint.
There was another, deeper, sigh. "I love you, Pete. Even without the memories."
"Yeah."
When he didn't say anything else, his dad rested his hand briefly on Peter's shoulder. "I'll be in my room if you need me. Okay? Friday can show you the way."
He didn't answer, and after several seconds there was retreating footsteps, and the door closed.
Peter cried himself to sleep that night.
He woke up gasping for breath, heart pounding as he tried to pull himself from the last wisps of a dream.
Everything was too quiet, except for the hum of electricity, and the sound of Friday's voice-
He tried to listen, vaguely realizing that she had been trying to get his attention for several minutes.
"Peter, your heart rate is too high. You appear to be in the early stages of an anxiety attack, and are exhibiting the signs of a nightmare. I will alert Boss for you-"
"No!" Peter gasped. "No, don't- don't wake him up… I'm fine. I'll just… take a walk. I'm fine."
"Peter, I would not suggest that. You are not in a good state of mind-"
"Mute."
He slung his legs over the side of the bed, and headed out the door.
The air was on the verge of being chilly, but just warm enough that he wasn't shivering.
Stars shone brightly, lighting the beaten path leading through the trees.
Cold earth silent beneath his feet, he realized that he had forgotten to put shoes on, and didn't even bring a flashlight.
Leaves rustled in the brush around him, small creatures chittering in the late night- or early morning.
It was peaceful.
The sun brushed his face.
His eyes snapped open.
He wasn't anywhere he recognized, and the brush and trees had given way to open field.
A frown wrinkled his forehead.
What?
"Where- where am I?"
His voice did little to still the growing emptiness in his chest.
He was wearing pajamas, and he didn't have his phone.
There- there was blood.
On his hands, there was blood.
Bright red, still dripping.
Oozing down from his forearms.
There were no injuries.
He spun around.
Grass in every direction, with no buildings in sight.
There was blood.
Bright red, still dripping.
Oozing down from his forearms.
There were no injuries.
He spun around.
Grass.
"Dad?"
His voice shook pathetically, quivering with fear.
Silence.
Not even a bird made a sound.
No wind.
There was blood.
Bright red, still dripping.
Oozing down from his forearms.
There were no injuries.
Help.
He walked.
Taking a direction, he walked.
So much blood.
Arms, hands, legs, clothes-
Blood.
Bright red, still dripping.
Oozing down.
No injuries.
Help.
He walked for what seemed like hours, one foot in front of the other.
One after the other.
One…
After…
He looks up and suddenly there's a man, standing in front of him, eyes worried, and mouth moving.
"-ecause if there isn't, you can come into the house, and my wife might have-"
He seems to notice that Peter isn't in the daze anymore, and breathes a sigh of relief.
"Hey, you good, kid? You're one of the displaced kids, yeah? Come on, Vanessa might have some food for you, and we can call your parents."
Why would you let a random kid covered in blood into your house? Peter wonders, and looks down, but the blood is gone.
He could've sworn there was blood so much blood bright red still dripping oozing down no injuries-
"-kid? Hey, you don't look so hot. Come on. Let's get you out of the sun."
Peter blinks and suddenly he's sitting in a chair in a kitchen, a grey haired woman patting his hand. "Don't you worry darlin. You can have some of my fresh bread, and we'll call your mama and daddy, alright? Don't you worry."
He blinks again and the man is crouched in front of him, holding a phone, and looking even more worried. "Kid? Can you tell me your parents phone number?"
He thinks he tells him, but he isn't sure.
There's echoes of a conversation somewhere-
"-got him here, keep-"
"-need a hospital, dissociating-"
"-won't, maybe can't, answer questions-"
"Address is 224 Manhurst drive, yeah, right near-"
"Peter?"
He blinks.
Blinks again.
A face.
Blue eyes.
Pale skin.
Blonde hair.
He blinks.
She's talking.
Forehead pinched.
Mouth moving quickly.
Then she's gone, pulled aside, and another face is there.
Dark eyes.
Dark hair.
Worried.
"Peter, kiddo please, please I need you to answer me- I need you to come back from wherever you are right now-"
He blinks.
He knows them.
Just-
Does he?
He would remember them, surely, he muses to himself.
Okay.
He can go away again.
It's nice when he doesn't know anything.
The man seems to panic, eyes wide as he talks loudly but Peter doesn't want to listen, doesn't want to be here so he goes.
He blinks and he's awake again.
The TV hummed in the background.
Quiet noises came from another room, along with the sound of a high voice.
He was laying on a couch, head resting against something soft and warm.
Gentle breathing came from behind him, and he rolled over to see his dad, head against the back of the couch, one arm draped across his chest, and the hand of the metal arm resting on Peter's head.
Peter lay there in silence for several minutes, breath syncing up with the gentle rise-and-fall of Tony's chest.
Light footsteps came around the back of the couch, and Morgan peered into his face, expression calculating. "Mommy says when you wake up to tell her."
Something must show in his eyes, because she just shrugs nonchalantly. "I won't if you let me cuddle you. Daddy says my cuddles make everything better."
He nods, just barely, but it's all the permission she needs before she climbs up beside him, and curls into the small space between him and the couch back.
"Daddy was worried," she confided. "Mommy says it's cause he 'members you. And cause you were gone."
The news didn't come as actual news-
He knew it had happened, after the way his dad's voice had cracked when he begged Peter to come back to him.
Somehow it didn't spur any feeling in his chest.
He felt cold.
Like he'd never be warm again.
Minutes passed before footsteps hurried out of the kitchen, and around the couch.
Pepper, her voice a harried whisper.
"Morgan, what did I tell you about letting your brother rest-" a sharp breath. "Peter?"
Then she's there, eyes warm, and worried, and crinkled in a sad smile. "Hey Peter. Hey. You had us really worried, bud."
When he didn't respond, her smile fell. "O-Okay, Peter- I need you to answer me, yeah? Don't- don't zone out again."
So he nods, just to ease her mind, but then she shakes his dad's shoulder, the good one, and his dad is sitting up quickly, a sharp intake of breath, and then-
"Peter?"
And he knows- he knows that he has his dad back just from the way his voice catches on the name, and then he's pulled into an embrace, face pressed against his dad's shoulder.
Suddenly he's crying, harder than he's ever cried in his life, and he can't stop.
His dad just holds him, rocking back and forth, kissing the top of his head, and he thinks maybe his dad is crying too.
"There- there was blood? I thought-?" He hates the shakiness in his voice. "My hands, they were- there was blood, and I couldn't-"
Tony pulls him closer, tucking his son under his chin, and hushing him softly. "I know. It's okay, you're okay now. I'm- I'm sorry, Pete, I tried to remember you-" his voice breaks. "I missed you so much. So much."
The teen couldn't stop the sobs that shook his body, fingers curling into the fabric of his dad's shirt. "I didn't know where I was- I couldn't find you-"
Tony cradled his son gently, resting his cheek against Peter's hair. "I know. I'm never going to let you be lost again, okay? I love you so much. I love you."
And maybe it wasn't all okay now.
Maybe they can't fix this like they fixed the universe, with a snap, and maybe they can't fix this with magic.
But his dad's hug goes a long way towards putting all his broken pieces back together.
So maybe he isn't okay.
And maybe that is okay.
But he can be.
He will be.