"…Feels like we're on the edge right now
I wish that I could say I'm proud
I'm sorry that I let you down
Let you down
All these voices in my head get loud
I wish that I could shut them out
I'm sorry that I let you down
Let you down…"

Let You Down / NF

—

Spider-Man was never afraid.

But Peter Parker was.

There were moments where the lines between the two blurred. Sometimes, Peter Parker bled into Spider-Man and Spider-Man bled into Peter Parker.

But right now, both of them were bleeding. Literally.

And Peter Parker was very, very afraid.

He didn't want to die here. He wasn't even on Earth. His blood was staining the soil of a planet whose name he didn't even know. Briefly, he remembered a poem he had read just a few months before in English class. It was about a soldier from World War I, or was it II? He couldn't remember. His thoughts refused to congeal into something he could grasp. But for some reason, his brain kept rerouting him back to that dumb poem. How did it go again? If I die, there's a spot on a foreign field that is forever England? At least, Peter thinks it was something like that. The words made him wonder, fleetingly, if this piece of dirt would be considered American soil once he died on it.

Then it occurred to him that if they lost this battle, there would be no countries because there would be no Earth.

Thanos would destroy it all.

He didn't want to think about it.

Instead, he thought about what he could see.

Peter was lying on the ground, with the sky stretching out above him. Every once in a while the periphery of his vision would be filled with a spray of dirt and debris from a nearby explosion. It acted as a constant reminder that, all around him, his teammates were fighting to determine the fate of the universe.

Peter blinked slowly. The sky was still blue here, but it had no clouds. Peter liked the clouds. He missed them.

He missed home.

Suddenly, the seamless stretch of sky was replaced by a suit of iron and the cacophony of battle was drowned out by the whine of damaged repulsers.

Tony.

"Kid?" The emotionless mask of Iron Man folded back to reveal his mentor's terrified eyes. "C'mon, kid, are you with me?"

Mr. Stark sounded just as scared as Peter felt. Peter didn't really know how he felt about that. He decided to file it away with the ever-growing list of things he would work through later, once his thoughts weren't so difficult to grasp.

Sharp edges of rubble dug into Peter's back as he spoke.

"I let you down." He gasped out, pain making his vision swim. "Tony, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And he was sorry. Peter had failed him. Tony had made him his suit and let him tinker in his lab and picked up his calls and treated him like a son and, in the moment when Tony needed him the most, Peter had failed him.

"No, kid, don't be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry." Metal gauntlets folded back and the hand that Tony wasn't using to stem the flow of blood from Peter's abdomen cupped his face. It felt nice. "You didn't let me down. I should never have brought you into this in the first place."

Another explosion rocked the ground and the ricochets jolted through Peter's broken body. He could feel dust scratching through his lungs as he gasped through the haze of agony. Suddenly, he was coughing and all he could hearseethink was painpainpain.

"Shh," Tony murmured as Peter hacked and sobbed for air, "you're gonna be fine, Peter. Just keeping breathing."

Peter latched onto Tony's voice as he came down from the wave of pain. Something wet and metallic dribbled down his chin as Peter collapsed, exhausted, against the debris. Tony wiped it away with a look of disgust and terror.

"Tony?" Peter rasped, surprised to find his voice still working. Everything seemed warped and strange and he was so, so tired. "Hurts."

"I know, kid. I know."

—

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Contact Karen. What're his vitals?"

"Sir," the AI paused, "the blow punctured his small and large intestines, stomach, and liver. He has sustained multiple fractured ribs, and at least one of these has perforated his right lung. His internal and external bleeding is substantial. Without immediate medical assistance, these wounds will be fatal."

The realization hit Tony more painfully than any blow Thanos had dealt during the grueling battle.

Peter was going to die. And Tony Stark, with all his genius and money, was helpless to stop it.

"How long does he have, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"His AI is badly damaged, and I can only gain minimal information through the vibranium in his suit."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y." Tony growled.

"My calculations estimate minutes, Sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, and the AI sounded regretful. "I'm sorry."

Tony wiped away the blood that had smeared across the kid's, no, his kid's, mouth, and felt something deep inside him shatter and then reform into a solid ball of morbid determination.

He couldn't save him, but he'd make damn sure he didn't do this alone.

"Hey," Tony started, his voice sounding far steadier than it had any right to be, "just keep looking at me, kid."

Peter's eyes trailed back up to meet his and the fear within the soft, brown irises instantly melted away, being replaced instead by that look of pure trust that was and so young and so Peter that it took his breath away.

Tony swallowed back bile.

"You did good, kid, okay? You did really good."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you did."

Peter smiled, and Tony pretended not to notice the way his teeth were stained with blood.

"May," he gasped out, smile sliding off his face, hand sluggishly fumbling for Tony's sleeve, "you'll, will you, please..."

"I'll take care of her."

"Thank you." A pause. "Don't go?"

"Got nowhere else to be, kid."

That wasn't true, and they both knew it. The battle was still raging all around them, and they were losing. The team needed every member who could still stand to be fighting, but Tony couldn't leave his kid to die alone.

The team would understand.

Peter was coughing again, choking on his own blood, hazy eyes still locked on Tony's face. His breaths wheezed in and out, and Tony knew that it was a tossup between the blood loss or the punctured lung killing him first.

He let go of Peter just long enough to clamber out of his damaged suit.

"Sentry mode."

He knew it was a terrible idea to be out of the suit in the middle of a war zone, but Tony didn't want Peter's last memories to be of the impersonal metal of Iron Man.

He pulled Peter into his lap as gently as he could and ran a bloodstained hand through his sweat-tangled hair.

"T'ny?" Peter's hand fumbles against his mentor's chest weakly. "'M scared."

"I know, kid. I know it hurts."

"Doesn't hurt anym're." Blood bubbled up between Peter's pale lips as he slurred out the words. "'S that bad?"

Tony choked back a sob.

"No, kid. That's good. That's real good."

"'M tired. 'M I allowed t' sleep?"

"Yeah, kid. Go for it."

"Be here wh'n I wake up?"

The words speared straight through Tony.

This is my kid. He thought. This is my kid and this is the last time I'll ever look into those stupid, innocent eyes.

"Of course, Peter. I'm not leaving. I've got you."

Peter smiled at him, and then his eyes drifted shut, breathing slowing and then stuttering. He looked almost blissful. Tony tucked him closer to his chest and rocked them back and forth.

He tried to pretend that he was just rocking his kid to sleep.

He barely noticed Rhodey arrive, and completely ignored his friend's gentle hand on his shoulder.

He had bigger things to focus on.

Tony felt the exact moment that Peter's breathing shuddered to a stop.

"Peter." Tony breathed, refusing to comprehend the fact that lively, exuberant, vibrant Peter could just die. "Peter."

Tony didn't even realize he was repeating Peter's name over and over again, like a mantra, until Rhodey interrupted him.

"C'mon, Tones," something was breaking in Rhodey's voice as he tried to pry his friend away from Peter, "time to go."

"No!" Tony gasped, tightening his grip around Peter's motionless chest. "No, I can't go. I told him I wouldn't leave. He's just a kid. He's my kid! Oh my god, Rhodes, he's so scared."

"Tony! Tony, look at me!" Rhodey's hands fisted in the front of his best friend's shirt, tugging him away from the kid's body. He painfully averted his eyes from the way Peter's head lolled back lifelessly without Tony's shoulder to prop it up. "He isn't scared anymore, Tones. You hear me?" Rhodey felt his voice crack on the words, but he forced them out anyway. "He's not scared."

"I told him…" Tony stuttered, looking closer to Peter's age than his own, "I told him I'd be here when he woke up."

"Oh, Tones. He's not... he's not gonna wake up, okay? He's gone, man. He's gone."

Tony's eyes trailed brokenly down to the boy lying in the rubble below them. Peter looked peaceful. His closed eyes and slightly parted, bloodless lips showed no evidence of the pain he had been in. Weakly, Tony reached for his eerily still chest, fingers brushing over the bloodstained spider emblem on his war torn suit.

"Let him go, Tones. Let him go."

Slowly, painfully, Tony pulled himself away from Peter. His hands lingered on every inch of the teenager, as if he could tug him back to life with his fingertips alone.

Tony pressed a final, shaky kiss to Peter's forehead, brushing his fingers against the cooling cheek.

"I'll come back for you, Peter. I promise."

Tony looked at his friend with eyes devoid of everything except grim determination. It took Rhodey less than a second to realize his plan.

"Tony, no."

"I'm sorry, Rhodey."

The suit closed around him, and the thrusters drove him into the sky.

He headed straight for Thanos.

—

Tony Stark couldn't save Peter Parker.

But he could avenge him.

—

Despite his best efforts, Tony Stark survived what would be remembered as the Infinity War. And so, when the battle ended, and Thanos lay dead, Tony stumbled back to Peter, gathered the cold body into his arms, and brought him home.

The world did not stop to mourn Peter Parker. Not a single person on Earth had any clue that somewhere, on a planet hidden among the stars in their open night sky, an innocent boy had died in his friendmentorfather's arms so that everyone else might get the chance to live.

People would talk about the Infinity War after it ended, when the governments of the world told them only what they needed to know. They would list the casualties, and the name Spider-Man would be among them. Nine little letters to describe a whole life.

Queens mourned, and then moved on. After a few years, most people forgot all about Spider-Man: the vigilante who loved too much.

Most people forgot Peter Parker, too, but there were some who remembered.

May Parker spent the rest of her life alone, if you didn't count the occasional visit from the elusive billionaire, Tony Stark. She kept Peter's room exactly how he left it, Star Wars sheets and all.

Ned Leeds went to a good college and, upon graduation, was immediately offered a lucrative position in Stark Industries. In his new apartment, he set up a shelf full of old Lego sets, which he never touched but refused to sell.

Michelle Jones revolutionized journalism, but she had to fight her way up. Whenever times got particularly tough, and she found herself living off of Ramen, an anonymous check would arrive in the mail. She always knew exactly who had sent it.

Because Tony Stark never forgot.

—

Peter Parker has a headstone, wedged between the one for his parents and the one for his uncle.

Peter Parker
July 20th, 2001-May 10th, 2018
A Son. A Hero. A Friend.

For the rest of Tony Stark's life, that grave was never without fresh flowers.

And if they stopped being delivered the day after he died, well, it was probably just a coincidence.