Peter’s slim figure climbed through the back window of his house and quietly crept around the corner. A shiver runs through his body and the hair on the back of his neck and arms stands straight up. Something in his body takes over, and Peter ducks just as a large ceramic vase flies through the air where his head was and shatters into a million little pieces behind him. He jerks his head to see the angry face of Aunt May.

“It’s just me, Aunt May.” Peter says cautiously. She must have thrown that at him, thinking he was a burglar, right?

“I know,” Another vase finds its way into her hands, which are shaking with anger. Peter glances at her face, then wishes he hadn’t. Her expression is contorted so a shadow falls over her features, causing her eyes to glow almost red in the meager light. Her eyebrows hunch over her eyes like a gnarled old branch choking the life out of a bush. Her mouth is pulled back in a grimace, baring her teeth at Peter.

Peter jumps back, staring at the almost feral woman in front of him. As he watches her murderous expression deepen, another memory starts to fight up from the pit of his brain.

It’s like he can watch it in his mind. The entire thing starts dark, blacked out by a marker at first, then it slowly recedes away, until he can see more and more and more of the memory.

There’s a parking lot, and a car. He’s putting bags inside the car. He turns, and sees the woman that came with Mr. Stark. She calls out to him, desperation thick in her voice. Peter is pulled forward towards… towards who? Blackness recedes until he can the face of the person he’s willing walking towards. Aunt May. But something is wrong. He’s not paying attention. The Aunt May in his memory has the same eyes that this Aunt May does now. Dark, angry, and filled with the desire to cause pain.

Peter blinks, crying out and falling backwards. He stares up at Aunt May, trying to keep the fear from his eyes.

“Can I just go to my room?” He asks. His voice shakes, he can feel more memories fighting up from the blackness, each one releasing an invisible weight from his mind. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, I promise. I just need to sleep.” Aunt May says nothing, just points in the direction of his door. Man, she must be really mad.

Peter scurries away, careful to watch behind him in case another sneak-attack vase comes at him. Safely in his room, he lands on the bed, breathing hard. His chest heaves up and down, even though he had hardly done anything that would elicit this reaction. A million memories pound through his head, and he can hardly sort what is real and what isn’t.

He grabs his head, standing, and spinning with the room. Pound. Jab. Beat. He opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if something was to happen to the kid?” An invisible knife against his throat, and Peter reaches up to fight off the non-existent offender.

“Because I call saving countless lives helping someone. Wouldn’t you?” Tony’s voice. Without realizing it, Peter had fallen on the ground. Tony’s voice makes his heart jump, and he weakly crawls towards the door before another voice crosses his mind.

“Is it the kid you don’t want to leave?” Peter recognizes the voice, but he can’t picture the face behind it. Just the broad shoulders and floppy yellow hair.

“Well, then it’s time to have some fun, kid.” The voice. Deep, angry, with a hint of an accent. Oh, God. How did Peter not realize it before? The man from these new memories, from Iraq, was the doctor. The doctor that has supposedly been wiping his memories. A sinking feeling flies through his chest as he realizes that if the doctor was actually the man from Iraq, then he’s seen Peter. And Tony. Crap. Crap. Crap. Someone like him would definitely be back for revenge.

“You’re just like Tony.” The woman who came with Tony, Pepper, smiles proudly at him in his memories. A wave of happiness washes over Peter, filling his shaking, terrified body with a hint of warmth.

If he was just like Tony, then what would Tony do?

**********

“Wakey wakey, Tony Stark.” A thick accent shakes Tony from his restless sleep. His eyes open, the grogginess of sleep dulling his memories and slurring his vision.

“Where…” He looks around the room, seeing only bright lights and stone walls. Why is it that whenever he’s kidnapped, it’s always in a stone room?

“Man, I guess this is disappointing.” Tony says, trying to laugh. “I was expecting more of a five star kidnapping location. No bacon and eggs for breakfast?”

“You shut your idiotic mouth.” The man snaps. Tony finally becomes more aware of his surroundings.

Like he noticed before, he’s in a large stone room, with minimal windows. There’s hardly anything in the room, except for a few things that are covered in tarps. Tony is tied to a block of wood that is anchored to the wall, his arms bent uncomfortably next to his head. He tries to move to get a better view of the man, but immediately bites his tongue to prevent screaming.

A large pool of blood surrounds his right leg, with blood soaking his jeans and legs. It seems that the bleeding may have slowed a bit, but the man laughs from across the room.

“What do you remember?” He sits on the ground several feet from Tony Stark.

“I was at the office. I saw Peter. And then…” Tony thinks, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him. “You shot me, didn’t you?”

“Only in the leg.” The man shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I wanted to see you suffer, but not dead. You cannot die before all of us have our fun!” With a smile too bright to accent what he just said, the man gets up and grabs a small device.

“All of us?” Tony asks worriedly. Peter. Oh God, what if he got Peter too?

“Ah, yes. Haven’t you guessed Tony Stark?” The man leans over him, cupping the pager-looking device in one hand. “Your little friend is going to come back to play. His Aunt will be sure to join him.”

With a hard toss, the man throws the device onto Tony. It hits his injured leg and bounces, causing Tony to cry out with pain.

“Whoops, sorry.” The man grins sadistically. He leans over to Tony and unchains his wrists. Tony’s hands drop to his side, and he rubs the feeling back into his arms.

“Man, that was the craziest massage I’ve ever gotten.” He taunts. Tony attempts to keep his heart beating at a normal level when the man pulls a gun on Tony. The cold barrel looks down at Tony, pointed straight between his eyes.

“You will take the communicator and send a message to your little friend.” The man drawls in his accent. “It is a video communicator, so do not attempt to say anything secret. I will be watching you. Peter has an identical one in his room. Say whatever you need to in order to get him here.”

“And if I refuse? You’ll kill me. You’ll kill me either way.”

“True,” The man says, “but you won’t get to comfort your son as you die.”

“He won’t come if I tell him to.” Tony says, a lump forming in his throat. “He doesn’t even remember who I am.”

“Trust me, he does. Would he have followed you to the office if he didn’t feel attached to you in some way?”

With a deep sigh, Tony starts to record his message.

**********

In his room, Peter is having a crisis. He can feel it, deep in his chest, that something is wrong with Tony. He remembers everything. Every time that he laughed with Tony, every second that he spent with his father figure, and all the great times that he spent, telling his dad that he loves him. He even remembers going with Aunt May, and the desperate attempts to get Tony to find where he was. The horrible, soul crushing feeling in his chest that he might never see the person he loves most ever again.

Now, all he feels is that love again, burning the hate for Aunt May towards the front of his brain.

Somewhere in the room, something buzzes. Peter scrambles to find it. If Aunt May hears it, she’ll think that he has a phone, which is strictly forbidden. After tearing apart a few corners of his room, he finally finds it nestled in his backpack.

It’s a small device, about the size of an old-fashioned pager. A single button rests in the bottom of the screen: a play button. The screen glows blue, and text circles across the screen. New message from Unknown. New message from Unknown. New- Peter pushes the play button before the text can circle again.

The device falls from his hand, onto the floor, and the hologram of a person shoots up into the air. But not just any person, his person.

Tony Stark begins to talk.

“Listen kid, I know that I look absolutely horrible. I guess no sleep, minimal eating, and getting shot in the leg will do that to a person.” A weak smile plays across Tony’s lips, and for the first time, Peter sees the blood darkening Tony’s pants. The ground around him is a scarlet pool.

“So I guess don’t judge my looks and just listen to what I’m about to say.” Tony takes a deep breath. “I know that you have your memories back. And if you’re not confused and scared, you’re probably in an angry fit right now. But there’s no one you should be mad at, except for me. I brought you into this, and anyone else that got involved was just a direct reaction to something stupid I’ve done in my life.

“God, I regret a lot that I’ve done. But, I won’t ever regret the time that I’ve spent with you. Even when you didn’t remember me, or the things that we’ve had together, I won’t ever regret bringing you into my life. You’re a real special kid, Peter. Not just to me, but to the world. And now, I guess like all good parents, it’s time for me to let you go.”

“No!” Peter yells at the hologram, like it can hear him.

“I know that the odds are stacked against me, and that I don’t have much longer to live. Heck, I’ve got two holes in my leg and a gun pointed at my face.” Tony leans his head against a wall behind him. “But that’s okay. I’ve accepted my fate, Peter. I knew it would come at one point or another. And so this video is part goodbye, and part sappy ‘I love you’.” Peter’s eyes shine with tears, and his throat chokes with emotion.

“We had a good run, you and I. Lots of danger, lots of imminent death, and lots of times that you saved my life and I’ll never be able to repay you for it. My world crashed around me when I lost you, Peter. I didn’t think that I would make it. And if I had lost hope, when I had lost hope, I wouldn’t have kept going. And I don’t say that to make you feel guilty, because like I said, this is all my fault. I tell you this because you have more to live for than I ever did. And I need you to remember that. So if, when, I’m gone, don’t come looking for me. Don’t come after me. There’s nothing you can do, because in just a few minutes, I’ll be peacefully slipping off.

“And when I do, I’ll be thinking of you. The kid who changed my life. My son. I love you, Peter Stark. Run away, be safe, and-” But Peter never gets to hear the last part of the recording, because the device recording Tony drops to the ground, still recording. A gunshot rings around the room, and a gasp from Tony precedes a bone-chilling scream that echoes, just like the gunshot.

The doctor picks up the device, points it at his face. “Tony Stark tried to go against the rules.” He laughs. “Now he has four holes in his body. Find him at the office before it becomes more.” The recording cuts out suddenly, leaving Peter to scramble for the device and clutch it to his chest.

He allows himself a moment to let the silent screams pass through his lips, and for the tears to roll down his face and choke his throat.

“Peter?” Aunt May’s voice calls through the door.

“Come in.” Peter’s voice is ragged, torn senseless with emotion.

“Is something wrong, honey?” Her voice is calm, unwavering. Her eyes are back to normal, but Peter isn’t blind anymore. The desire for pain still lingers behind her pupils, creating a storm cloud of danger crackling explosive lightning at him.

“I’m not feeling so well. I think I need to go to the Doctor’s office.” He puts on the sweetest expression, the nicest, most innocent eyes that he can muster.

“Of course, Peter. Let me grab my purse and then we can head out.” Peter quickly pulls on his shoes, and “goes to the bathroom”. He slips into Aunt May’s room, rifling through her closet. A few months ago, he had found the place where she had hidden his birthday gift, maybe it was there?

Yes. The red, blue, and gold of the his spiderman suit shines up at him.

“Oh, did I miss you.” Peter says, quickly yanking it on underneath his other clothes. He makes sure that you can’t see it, and then heads from the bathroom.

Peter doesn’t know that in the few minutes that he was pilfering his suit, Aunt May was doing a preparation of her own. Keys, glasses, gun, wallet, breath mints, bullets, driver’s license, and passport all went into her purse.

“Ready, Peter?” She calls.

“Yep!” Peter turns the corner. She’s not stupid, she can see the look behind his eyes. The way that he’s trying so hard not to hit her across the face. She knows exactly what’s going to happen when they get to the office.

It’s time for them to say goodbye to Tony Stark.

/AN/ hey all! Sorry I haven't updated in the longest time! (it's been like 2 weeks but I still feel really bad) but things have been busy. I got a girlfriend, and lost her in the same week. It was a very long and confusing ordeal, but I know she and I are both better off in the long run. But I REALLY want to know: if I did an iron dad and spiderson fic writing contest that ended at the end of july, max of 5000 words, would you guys be interested?

AND would you also be interested if I made an instagram account for this, posting cute things I find and updates on how my stories are going? It would also allow me to interact with y'all a bit more which would be fun! Let me know in the comments and I hope all you fantastical, super amazing people have a day as amazing as yourself! Love you all so freaking much!!! /AN/