So its part nine of my one shot series, you know the one where Quentin Beck tortures Peter, yeah so I included what happened to Pepper since y'all were wondering.
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The last thing Peter felt was numbness course through him as he tried to cling on to the delicate and safe touch of his dad when his eyes closed once again. 

He thought he would be safe in these depths, because he was safe now. No matter how much he didn’t feel like it, he was safe. He was millions of miles from Beck, or him. Just the mere thought of his torturer’s name was enough to make him feel queasy. 

He could practically feel the silver plunge into his already broken flesh, emitting the metallic sound that he hated, and he felt wet droplets of scarlet trickle down his flesh, reminding him of weak and vulnerable he was. Powerless. Exposed. 

He felt sick, in dire need to throw up but then he realized that he hadn’t had anything to eat since he had been kidnapped. Staying awake hurt. Sleeping hurt. There was nothing in the middle that kept both his brain and his body satisfied. It was almost as if he was rid of Beck, yet still trapped in hell. 

He wanted it to be over, the pain, trauma, all of it. But his body was in no condition to do so. He tried to keep track of how many times he was stabbed where but the nauseating number would become foggy after forty. 

The same plaguing nightmare returned once again, only this time he felt thick, sweaty hands squeeze around his throat as his lungs constricted and wavered for oxygen desperately, only to be met with nothing but a sharpening pain as electricity jostled from the steel collar that was fastened around Peter’s neck. 

His vision blurred into a haze and all he could see was Quentin Beck’s sinister face bore into his helpless one, as he weakly tugged on Beck’s arms, mentally pleading for the slightest form of mercy or to end it all, which one he had no clue. 

Beck had the audacity to laugh as Peter weakly squirmed, trying to find an angle where oxygen could slip through the trachea but found none. He spoke thinly, “You really think you can escape the inevitable? I told you right from the very beginning Peter, you will die here.”

He heard a gentle voice ground him, “Peter, wake up, you’re okay. Baby, you’re okay. It’s just a bad dream, I’ve got you.”

Peter bolted and his eyes bulged as they opened. Everything was spinning and Peter could taste the bile that was inching up his throat. He wheezed out, “No more tricks Beck! I know this isn’t real!” 

“I told you right from the beginning Peter, you will die here. It’s not hard to understand, especially with that intellect you’ve inherited.”

Tony spoke in a careful tone, “No Peter, this is real, but you have to breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe, here, in my arms. That man can’t hurt you anymore. He’s dead.” 

Peter trembled, unsure who was lying, Tony or Beck. He croaked out as his eyelids clenched shut, “I, I don’t know!” Peter started sobbing as he smacked his hands against his eyes, “I don’t know!” His voice died away, as if he was signaling defeat, “How many more times do I have to tell you, I don’t know? Stop tricking me, I just want to go home!”

Tony nodded, holding back tears of his own as he gently clasped Peter’s hands and guided them away from his face where he could possibly hurt himself, “It’s okay if you don’t know, you’re home bud. You’re home. Home.”

Peter asked in a childish tone, “I’m home?”

Tony exaggerated a nod, “Yeah buddy.”

Peter asked cautiously, “How do I know this is real? What’s something only Dad knows for a fact?” 

Tony rubbed a patch of skin on Peter’s dry bruised thumb, running over the ridges, “You remember when Mom left us? You were still in your Spiderman suit crying because you blamed yourself. You kept crying because you thought it should’ve been you? Steve had to hold you back because he was scared you were going to hurt yourself. You wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even me. And then on our way home, you fell asleep in the car. Do you remember that? And then I picked you up and helped you change into a fresh set of clothes, and you asked me to cuddle with you? You remember that right? You were so scared to sleep by yourself, you wanted the light from the arc reactor remember? And I held you as you cried? None of us slept that night, remember?”

It was supposed to be him. Justin Hammer put a bounty on Pepper’s head, and a threat that he would kill her when Tony was most vulnerable. The Avengers couldn’t take any chances, especially Tony, so both her and Peter were restricted to the Tower and always accompanied by one of the Avengers who could more than able to defend themselves and get the Starks to safety if it came down to it. 

But somehow, Justin Hammer’s plan worked. He set up a diversion, a (mechanical) monster that was terrorizing city streets and all six Avengers were called pronto. Sometime during the attempt to neutralize the threat, all the power went down. None of the Avengers could go and jack up the power grid, which would also aid in getting rid of the monster, so they were forced in calling on Pepper and Peter to handle that. 

Peter took out all the mindless drones that stood in there way while Pepper got to work, clicking keys and switching handles. Little did they know that this was all part of Justin’s scheme. When Pepper turned around, her breath caught in her throat. A giant suit of armor towered over her, and was at least thirty feet tall. At the very top was Justin Hammer with a sick smile over his deranged features. 

The robotic-human voice thundered, “Pepper, oh, this was all part of my plan to kill the thing that Tony Stark loves most in the world. It’s nothing personal to you, you’re just an expendable pawn. Hope you don’t mind that I have to, you know, smashy smash.”

A pippy bold voice challenged, “Hey, Hammer. Why don’t you not hammer the lady, and we settle this like gentlemen?”

Hammer rolled his eyes, “Spiderman, I’m not here for you right now. I’m trying to kill the only leverage over Tony Stark I have.”

Pepper shook her head towards the mini-Avenger, pleading that Peter wouldn’t do what she knew he was going to do. He did. 

He whipped off his mask and smirked, “Really? Or you could just kill his son.” He couldn’t let his mom die. His Dad would be so heartbroken if she died, the least he could do was try and fight him, and his mom could get to safety. Or get the other Avengers to help him out.

Hammer turned around, intrigued. “Wait, Tony Stark has a secret child. Hm, this does change things? But how do I know that you’re not bluffing?”

He turned to Pepper and raised a car above her, to suggest what he was going to do, “Is he your son?”

Pepper said nothing as tears streamed down her face as she mentally pleaded for Peter to run, save himself. It would be okay if she died, but a world without Peter wasn’t one worth living for. Parents were supposed to make sacrifices for their children, not the other way around. 

Hammer spat venomously, “Answer the question, Pepper. Is he your son?” He dropped the car behind her and a scream tore out of Pepper’s mouth. 

Peter wore a begging frown as tears raced each other on grime-riddled skin, “Mama, it’s okay, trust me.”

Pepper softly exhaled, “Yes, yes he is my son. But it’s me that you want.” 

Hammer turned around back to Peter and began to attack him. The fight was hard and grueling. Hammer fought with the intention to kill, which was expected, obviously. Peter dodged getting crushed by a metal foot when a metal hand sent him flying against a building. 

Hammer chortled, “I hate spiders. But one thing I hate more than spiders is Starks. And getting rid of the Stark legacy would save me some pain in my ass. You’ve made a fool decision boy.”

Peter threw back, “You did first once you threatened my mother!” He threw a web towards Hammer’s face which only earned him an annoyed kick to the gut and sent him sprawling in a ditch. He coughed and immediately winced at the droplets of crimson liquid that sprayed out of his mouth. 

Hammer had the audacity to chuckle as Peter slowly stood up, “Tired already? Want a quick, painless death?”

Peter shook his head and raised his fists in front of him, “As Captain America says, I can do this all day.”   

His muscles ached and he felt exhaustion cave in but he couldn’t give in. Stark men are iron, and they sure as hell don’t go down without a fight. The Spider-name bearer charged forth as flames danced from afar, trying to use his super strength to rip through the suit. It was ineffective as Hammer picked him up with a metal hand and cringed in disgust, “Ew, a bug.”

Peter shook his head, “I’m an arachnid human. Get your facts right if you’re going to proclaim yourself a genius.” Hammer’s face contorted into one of anger and curled the hand that was holding Peter into a fist and squeezed down hard preventing even the slightest of movement. He slammed Peter down into the ground numerous times, not stopping at the sound of crunching bones. 

He ignored Pepper’s screams as she tried to get the Avengers’ attention somehow, and only retreated once the teenager was sprawled in the ash and dust, with blood covering his face, and bruises littered every available inch of visible skin. 

He turned to Pepper and chuckled, “For a Stark, he sure was a fool.”

Pepper shook her head fearfully and began to back away, eventually breaking into a sprint. She didn’t get far when scattered building debris was thrown on top of her, and then everything went black. 

Peter was unconscious through that, but Steve had seen the flying piece of building and raced to investigate it. His stomach dropped as he saw a bloodied unconscious Peter and gingerly lifted him up. The boy was mumbling strings of incoherent words but the only two phrases the Captain was able to make out were Hammer and Mama. And when he turned around, he saw the limp hand of a woman that couldn’t be anyone but Pepper Potts. He knew she was dead before the lack of a pulse confirmed it. 

But he hoisted her up too, and ran back to the team and onto the medbay where Bruce began operating on Pepper to see if there was any chance she’d wake up to see tomorrow. 

Peter was in the recovery room when he jostled awake and began to pant heavily. Steve guided him back down, “Breathe Peter. You’re okay, in and out.” 

Peter frowned, “Where’s Mom?” If he was still alive, then where was she? Shouldn’t she be here, waking him up and letting him know that he would be okay?

Steve wore sorrowed eyes and spoke softly, “Peter, I’m so sorry…”

Peter interrupted Steve’s sentence shaking his head as tears sprang down bruised, aching skin, “No, no! It, it was supposed to be me.” He sucked in a breath through quivering lips as he told himself that he wasn’t going to cry when he melted into ugly sobs and buried his head in his hands. 

Steve tried to calm Peter down, but all the kid could do was sob harder. Steve couldn’t blame the kid, but felt concern knob his throat as the kid whispered tightly, “It was supposed to be me.” 

Eventually, he crawled into Steve’s lap as he wallowed in sobs and despair, needing someone to just hold him and make all the hurt go away. Steve wrapped his arms around the weeping boy, rubbing over his bruised cheek as he held his nephew close. He whispered softly, offering encouragement, “It’s all going to be okay Peter. I know, I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Peter shook his head, “No, it’s not! I told Hammer to kill me instead.”

Steve cupped Peter’s tear-stained face, “I’m so sorry bud, it’s going to be okay.” There wasn’t anything else that the former could say to the sniffling child, but he wished there was something more, even if it was a little bit more. The heartbroken expression scrawled over Peter’s expression tugged on his heartstrings, and Steve longed to bundle him up and wipe his tears away. 

An hour later, a scared Tony Stark ran into the SHIELD hospital, worry, and concern written all over his features. The team wore apologetic expressions towards the clearly distressed man, because it wasn’t right for the man to lose the woman he loved, and almost lose his son on the same day. 

Natasha breathed out, “Pepper’s in surgery. It doesn’t look too good, I’m sorry Tony, I really am. Steve’s trying to calm Peter down.” 

Tony stiffly nodded his head at the idea of losing the love of his life and went to the recovery room where he found Peter sobbing into Steve’s chest. Steve wore a sympathetic look and gestured to the crying bundle in his arms. 

Tony nodded and whispered a thank you as he approached his weeping son. Tony carded his digits through Peter’s hair, muscle memory that was coded in him from when Peter was born. The gesture always seemed to calm the boy down. Peter only sobbed harder. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, guiding the teenager towards the crook of his neck.

Peter hoarsely rasped, “I’m sorry!”

Tony asked softly, “Bud, what on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”

Peter only whispered, “It was supposed to me.”

He said nothing else and continued to cry into the older man’s chest. 

Peter was silent for a few minutes as the memory resurfaced in his head and he nodded and threw himself around Tony and the waterworks continued all over again. Tony carefully maneuvered Peter off the bed and onto his lap and held him tight, releasing a few tears of his own. 

Tony brought his hands to comb through Peter’s disheveled curls, a feeling that both had missed desperately, and Peter craved for the soft touch. He thrived off of positive touch, and he was tired, sick of actually, the harmful, hurtful touch. He just wanted to stay in his Dad’s arms forever. 

Tony began to rock his weeping child back and forth, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m holding you, and I’m never, ever , going to let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re never going to lose me, I’m right here.”

Peter sniffled as Tony rubbed soft circles onto his thin trembling form. Peter whispered in a childish like tone, “Dad, I’m so scared. It hurts.” He curled up against the arc reactor, finding solace in the blue hue emitted out of it. Some things never change. 

Tony nodded and leaned back as he held his boy tightly, “I know bud. We’re going to work on it, you’re going to get better. I promise. Beck,...”

Peter tensed. 

Tony immediately corrected himself, “He, sorry bud, he’s dead. We found him trying to escape and he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore bud. You’re safe with me alright?”

Peter feverishly nodded as his father hummed a tune to lull him to sleep. 

Tony would never tell Peter that he was the one to kill Beck. Some things were better left unsaid.

A/N: This oneshot series has one more part left, can you believe that? Idk why I feel really sentimental about this one,  I've really enjoyed writing it. I first started the series in September, and over these months I felt myself connect and project to Peter in ways I've never had before. Lol I'll stop being sentimental. I hate the cold, I have midterms on Thursday and this bitch is sick.