:

“Kid,” Tony chokes out. The pain is unbearable. One eye is swollen shut, he’s got some nasty bruises covering his body, and the hands around his throat won’t let go. They squeeze tighter. 

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is the eyes that are glaring down at him. So cold and angry. He’s never seen those brown eyes like that. It’s terrifying. 

Not-Peter, because Tony refuses to see this thing as the kid, growls down at him. He has Tony pinned to the ground and he’s sitting on his chest with his knees on each side of his body digging into his ribs. 

“Peter,” Tony says, hoping that the kid is in there somewhere listening. “Fight it. This isn’t you.” 

Peter has to fight this. Tony can’t. He tried and all he got was a brutal beating from a possessed 15-year-old kid. Tony still sees Peter; he can’t stomach hurting this kid. Even if it saves himself. 

“The end,” Not-Peter says. It’s the only thing he’s said since falling under this spell. 

Tony tries to pry Not-Peter’s fingers from around his throat. He knows he’s going to have a black and blue neck for weeks after this. If he survives. Tony hopes he survives just so Peter doesn’t have to live with what he did, or what he didn’t stop. 

“No, not the end.” Tony grunts as he settles on just holding Not-Peter’s hands in his. “Fight it.” 

Not-Peter doesn’t falter. He increases the pressure until Tony sees black spots. He manages to gasp out with a lot of effort, “Kid, I don’t blame you.” He takes a deep breath. “When you wake up, don’t blame yourself. It’s okay.” 

Tony feels himself start to let go. Those brown eyes are still narrowed down at him. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay.” 

His world goes black. 

Of all the people in the world, the first person to come see him is Pepper. Of all the things in the world, the first thing she does is hug him. He barely catches a glimpse of her face, her eyes red and swollen and her skin blotchy with crying, before he is pulled into her arms and she is squeezing him like she knows, like she knows how much he needs someone to hold him together. In her heels, she is tall enough for him to slot right under her chin and for a long moment Peter is stiff in her embrace. Then he leans into her and starts to sob.

Peter had woken up and gone straight to the police station. Not even bothering to take off his costume he’d stumbled up to the main desk and handed them his mask with trembling hands. Addressing the nonplussed officer behind the desk he’d stuttered “My name is Peter Parker and I just killed Tony Stark.”

Everything was a bit confused after that. He knew he’d been lead to a jail cell and given a change of clothes (with no shoelaces or drawstrings, not that that could have stopped him if he hadn’t been determined to face the consequences of his actions) but he didn’t really know how it had all happened.

He’d just stared down at his hands, remembering how the black had drained away from his suit and he’d started to understand. The enemy hadn’t been an enemy. The enemy hadn’t even fought as he crushed his throat in these hands. The enemy had told him not to blame himself.

And now Pepper was here. “Come on, we’ve bailed you out,” she was saying, her voice soft and rough and completely hollow. Then, even softer with some emotion, “No-one blames you Peter.”

“I blame me,” he whispers, pulling away but not daring to look at her.

She seizes his hand and drags him out of the cell. He follows her numbly through the station. The police officer with them hasn’t said a word, he just punches in the codes for the doors and walks slightly ahead of them. Pepper is still squeezing his hand. It hurts. It’s a good hurt.

They’re back at the front desk. Peter blinks at the sunlight streaming in from outside. He felt sure he’d been in the cell for hours, or years, but it couldn’t have been that long if it was still light outside.

The police officer handed Pepper his belongings, including somehow his suit. Peter sensed that she’d already had that fight and won. As they cross the room towards the exit, Pepper places a hand on the back of Peter’s neck, just like-

Just like Tony used to.

There’s no crowd outside. Peter can’t fathom how people can’t already know. How they aren’t already screaming for his blood. Pepper opens the car door for him.

The driver isn’t Happy. Of course it isn’t. Whatever’s going on with Pepper, why-ever she’s helping him, Happy definitely hates him.

Pepper doesn’t tell the driver where to go, but she pulls out anyway and somehow Peter is being driven away from the police station, away from prison and consequences and reality. He’s not sure he’s happy about it. It’s his fault after all. He’d trusted the symbiote. He’d wanted to be stronger, better, to save more people. When the symbiote had him, he’d wanted to kill Tony Stark. Bile rises in Peter’s throat.

Pepper leans forward and puts her head in her hands. She sighs and her breath hitches.

“Thank fuck for shitty movies,” she says. Peter stares at her, all he can think is how he’s never heard her swear before. “Turns out,” she continues, “that it takes someone longer to die than just cutting off their air until they go still.”

Something like hope kindles in his gut.

“But you didn’t know that, so the symbiote didn’t know that-“

“How do you know about the symbiote?” Peter is surprised by his own voice, it sounds much stronger than he feels.

Pepper’s voice goes soft again, “It came after Vision next. We think it wanted all the Avengers dead.”

“Is-“

“Vision’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Except-“ her voice breaks and she stares out the window to avoid looking at him. Finally she leans back in her seat and stares straight ahead. “He hasn’t woken up yet. But he will. He will.”

The cars pulls up outside Stark Tower.