Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. He startled upright, panting hard as the floor seemed to tilt and tip. The bedsheets wrapped tight as he scrambled to throw them off, but he managed to rip them free. Legs tucked up to his chest, he took in his surroundings. 

The room was basic in its furnishings: a bed, wardrobe, drawers, a table with a lamp, as well as lights embedded in the ceiling. But everything was of the highest quality available. There was no clue as to where he was. 

As he stood, Peter’s heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt. There was a high chance it would break straight through. 

He couldn’t quite believe he actually took the retirement offer. For good reason, he hadn’t taken it the first time Jacob offered, damn near three years ago now. When you worked in Peter’s job and saw all the evil acts humans were capable of, you tended to believe in the worst. Or not believe at all, in fact. Still, that nagging voice in the back of Peter’s mind yelled that no person was good, and true redemption was impossible. 

Well, Peter would just have to be different. He had May, and Tony would be back soon, and if Jacob was right his friends would be there soon enough too. Maybe it wasn’t as simple as being a good person or a bad one, but rather whether you could choose to continuously make good choices in the face of the bad. That’s what he endeavoured to do, no matter how bad things were. 

Now the floor had stopped tilting and the room stopped spinning, Peter found himself able to walk. He went to the door and tried to walk through. Instead, he smashed right into it and landed on his butt, hands clutching his throbbing nose. “Shit,” he muttered, careful to keep his voice down despite the pain. Who knew who else could be around. 

Fairly sure his nose wasn’t broken, Peter got up and went for the handle. The door was unlocked, which was good because he had no idea what he would have done if it were locked. Even better news, he recognised his surroundings as soon as he stepped out into the corridor. It was the same one Tony Stark had charged down screaming about spiders earlier that evening. 

Peter relaxed. He was alone, and he knew where he was as well as where to go next. 

Getting out of Stark Tower was easy enough. The lift—the totally normal, not at all magical lift—took him to the ground floor. Then it was a simple case of waiting for the security guard to wander off in the other direction and dashing out of the front doors. 

Snow swirled through the air and a biting cold wind whipped at his hair. For the first time, Peter took note of what he was wearing; his Present suit. Which, honestly, was wholly embarrassing given its muddied knees and covering of sand from the desert. Not to mention the sheer ridiculousness of the outfit in the real world. He looked like a pantomime character. 

It was incredibly slow going, walking through nearly knee-height snow in places and the unrelenting fall of more. But Peter did it. He trudged on until he was frozen to the bone and clothes truly sodden, hair flattened to his forehead. 

He was miserable when he arrived, yet a thrum of nervous excitement started up in his heart, pumping warmth about his body. He didn’t have a plan or any sort of speech prepared, which he probably should have thought about on the walk. Alas, he jogged up the steps and entered the FEAST centre. 

The lights were dimmed, and most of the occupants were snoring. It had filled up since Peter’s last visit, no doubt the blizzard driving everyone inside. Peter tiptoed his way through the main room and towards the offices in the back. 

Offices was maybe an overstatement. It was one medium-sized room with four desks, each one overflowing with paperwork. Peter remembered May’s—the one by the corner—always being covered in complicated financial statements, and May herself toiling over them all night long. Not tonight, it seemed, as the room was empty. 

Peter went to May’s desk and began to look around. His breath hitched when he saw a framed photo of him, Ben, and May, taken the morning of the Expo. Peter was grinning at the camera while Ben ruffled up his hair, May caught mid-laugh. Peter just barely remembered them asking a couple to take it for them. May must have had it printed after she recovered. 

Shaking off the thought of what she had gone through, Peter returned to searching through the drawers and papers on the desk. Something there must have her address written on it. It took almost fifteen minutes to find something, but eventually Peter turned up a bank statement with a road and apartment number printed on it. It wasn’t a name he recognised. 

Back out in the main room, Peter crept over to the cork noticeboard. On it was a map of all the boroughs of New York. He scanned the one of Queens, eventually pinning down the road in question. Having spent his whole life living in Queens, Peter found a road he did know and committed the route from that to May’s apartment to memory.

Next, he went to the donation box by the door. He found a thick, warm coat, pair of gloves, and a hat with a ridiculous pink bobble on top—all of which he intended to return the next day.  Before he went out into the cold once more, he tiptoed to peer over at Harley. 

He was nothing more than a lump in his sleeping bag, facing the wall with his hood pulled up over his head. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders indicated he had, after all, managed to fall asleep. Peter thought about waking him up and introducing himself—he liked the other boy and wanted to befriend him, share ideas and talk shop—but in the end opted to let him rest up. Besides, when Tony got back from the Haunt there would be plenty of time to meet Harley properly. 

Peter took a deep breath of real air with all of its life-giving glory entering his lungs for the first time in years, and went out into the night. 

The snow didn’t stop falling, and Peter arrived at the apartment frozen solid. Literally, an icicle hung from the furry hood of his coat. He shook it off, along with a great deal of loose snow. 

Walking through his old neighbourhood was like reliving his childhood, only it felt like yesterday rather than the distant thing it had become in the afterlife. Memories hid around every corner; the ice cream shop where Ben spilt chocolate sauce all in his lap, the corner shop where May bought Peter’s favourite teddy. All of it came rushing back and had Peter walking about with tears in his eyes.

May’s apartment building lay on a narrow street, both sides of the road lined with bashed-up old cars from the nineties. Half the streetlights were off, and those that were on flickered like they might give out at any minute. Paint peeled from window frames, and the door didn’t quite close properly. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed, managing to unjam it from the frame.

A single light bathed the corridor in sad, faint yellow light, it lit up wallpaper straight from the eighties and cobwebs in the corners. Peter ignored it all and went for the stairs, gliding about like he was on autopilot. Up, up, up he went, to the top floor and down the hall to apartment 42.

He sucked in a breath. May was behind that door. He stared for a long while, just remembering to breathe and feeling the air move around his body, before he lifted his hand and rapt sharply on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

A distant, muffled groan came from inside, followed by slow steps and creaking floorboards. Each thud of May’s cane seemed to slow time down until years passed between each one. Years, and yet no time at all because the door opened and there was May.

May.

Her face was the picture of shock, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open. Both of her hands gripped something, be it cane or door, hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Like they were her lifelines, the only things holding her to the floor while her head floated off into space. 

Peter could use something like that. He couldn’t help it when he fell forward, wrapping his arms around his Aunt and squeezing with all he had left. She still smelled the same, like burnt date loaf. He would never complain about it ever again. He just breathed her in.

At first, May froze. Or maybe she never unfroze from the shock of her dead nephew turning up at her doorstep. But then she dropped both the door and her cane and was wrapping her arms around Peter like she could fold him into her body and keep him there forever. 

At least one of them was crying, Peter really couldn’t tell who.

May broke the hug first, pulling back and holding him at arm's length. She swept her eyes over every inch of him, drinking in the sight like she might never see him again.

It hit Peter, then, that she probably thought that was true.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “May, I’m here.”

“You’re here,” she said back. Tears slipped down her face, and Peter reached up to wipe them away.

“Don’t cry.”

May chuckled wetly. “Says you. You’re a mess.”

Peter reached for his own face and found it wet. “Oh.” He tugged his sleeve over his hand and wiped his cheeks. His skin was frozen to the touch, and May must have thought the same because she started rubbing his arms to warm him up. “I’m alright, May,” he said, “You don’t need to do that, I’m alright.”

He tried to get her to stop, catching her wrists lightly and attempting to ease them away, but she just gripped his arms harder. “I can’t,” she choked. “If- If I let go you might disappear.”

Peter laughed that time, but it came out half strangled in a sob. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you ever again.”

“I can’t let go-”

“Alright- Here.” He ripped his glove off with his teeth and manoeuvred his hand into her’s, squeezing tightly. “See? I’m not going.”

“You’re frozen,” May gasped. Her other hand went to Peter’s cheek and she grimaced. “Come in and get those wet clothes off.”

She led him in, Peter bending down to pick up her cane and pass it over. May took him to the sofa and sat him down, perching down right next to him with their hands still entwined.

The apartment was small, a joint living room-kitchen-dining room and a short corridor with two doors leading off of it–bedroom and bathroom, he presumed. The walls were painted grey, but the light in here was much brighter than in the corridor outside and it gave the place a much more homely feel. It also illuminated a photo on the coffee table, Peter grinning at the camera just after he lost one of his front teeth. Next to it was May and Ben’s wedding photo.

“It’s not much, I know,” May said. She sounded ashamed as Peter looked around.

He turned to face her, clasping his other hand on top of her’s and trying to convey the desperation that she never think that about herself. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s not-”

“It is. You’re here, so it’s perfect.”

More tears. May wiped them herself, but she was smiling underneath. She leant forward and pressed their foreheads together. Peter closed his eyes and just allowed the moment to happen, allowed himself to feel it.

“I don't understand,” May whispered. “You’re dead, but you’re here. What’s happening, Peter?”

“I got better.”

May laughed, gentle and light. “I’m going to need more than that.”

“There’s so much I’ve got to tell you, and I will. But can we just- Can you hold me, just for a minute, then I’ll explain-”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence by the time May swept him into her arms. She held and held and held, and both of them cried without holding it back. Happy and sad all at the time. So much time lost between them, yet so much joy to be reunited.

Peter didn’t care that he sounded like a baby, asking May to hold him like that. At that moment, he couldn’t care about anything except May. “I love you,” he whispered, face buried in her shoulder. “I love you so much that I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe without you.”

Ghosts don’t need to breathe.

You’re alive. Alive alive alive alive

Eventually, they parted, but May kept her hand in Peter’s. He’d warmed up significantly, and his coat and gloves had left a puddle on the floor. May looked at him, almost for the first time now the shock had worn off, and her lips curled up in a badly suppressed smile. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Peter looked too, having forgotten entirely about his ridiculous suit and its ridiculous little tie. “Oh, this old thing? Just something I pulled out the back of my wardrobe.”

May laughed properly, and the sound warmed Peter’s insides more than any hot drink could ever hope to. Because May was alive and she could laugh and cry and hug and burn as much date loaf as she wanted. Just yesterday—just an hour ago–he hadn’t thought that to be true.

“But really,” she chuckled, her laughter coming to an end. “Peter, really, what the hell is happening?”

“That’s… a really long story.”

# #

Tony was in… well, he had no idea where he was. It was pitch black, not a hope of seeing anything at all, and no sound didn’t seem to exist in this strange limbo of a place. At first, Tony thought it was because–as Peter had said–the haunt kinda went off the rails and the other ghosts were trying to figure out what exactly to do, but the longer it went on the more intentional it felt. Like they were leaving him in this nothing place to sit and stew and reflect on his life choices. So Tony refused to do that, but in thinking about refusing accidentally tricked himself into thinking about it and managed to perform a full one-eighty entirely on his own.

After a year (or a few measly minutes, Tony wasn’t proud of how quickly he succumbed) a figure loomed out of the darkness. It was vaguely humanoid, but foreign enough to make Tony’s skin crawl. As it came closer, Tony realised this person was wearing a cloak with the hood up to shroud their face. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

She moved towards Tony smoothly, like she floated through the darkness rather than walked, no visible rise and fall as she took steps. 

Tony lifted his chin. “I met a friend of yours earlier,” he said, “Bit of a know it all if you ask me. I’m Tony.” He extended a hand for Yet to Come to shake, but when he raised her arm it wasn’t to complete the gesture.

Her hand was bones. Literally. No flesh or muscle, just bone. Tony couldn’t tell if it was the simulation or if she just genuinely looked like that. He couldn’t help but think Yet to Come got the worst end of the deal if that was the case. Anyway, Yet to Come continued to raise her boney hand past Tony’s and pointed over his shoulder with one of her long, slender, creepy bone fingers.

Tony followed, and saw a door that hadn’t been there before. “Neat trick. We’re going through, I take it?” he asked over his shoulder. A beat, no answer. “Not much of a talker, I respect that. Don’t worry, I can talk for the both of us.”

An aura of annoyance rolled off of Yet to Come, and Tony smirked to himself in satisfaction. Truly, what an achievement to piss off one of the most famous fictional ghosts of all time.

But there was a limit to how far Tony was willing to go, considering Peter’s ghost friends do absolutely whatever they put their minds to, so he walked towards the door with Yet to Come at his side.

“You know, I’m racking my brain here trying to remember if Peter told me your name…”

She didn’t take the bait, and so they reached the door in silence. Tony recognised it in an instant and frowned. Here? Again? What had happened? He pushed it open and walked into the FEAST centre.

In looks, it was the same as his visit with Peter. Same beds, same colours, a few of the chairs and chess boards and such had moved around, but by and large everything was the same. Except the people. Tony recognised some of the faces, a handful that had stuck out during his last brief visit, but they weren’t just going about their day this time. Each and every person held a candle, and they were gathered around something at the far end of the room.

Tony glanced up at Yet to Come, she was unnaturally tall and Tony had to crane his neck back to see her. She didn’t look away from the gathering. It was obvious where to go next.

He joined the back of the crowd, then worked his way through carefully, taking care not to bump into anyone. Not that he could bump anyone in his current state, but he didn’t want to relive the feeling of walking through that door after Peter. Once was enough to satisfy his curious mind, thank you very much. So he weaved and squeezed his way to the front, where his heart fell out of his body.

A picture of Harley sat upon his bed, framed in neat gold with a slight shimmer to it so that the reflections from the candles made it look alive. Because Harley wasn’t, that immediately became clear. Bunches of flowers and cards surrounded the picture. In it, Harley beamed up at the camera, his hair was longer and curled around his face. It looked recent. Awfully recent. Tony swallowed thickly, keeping down the quickly rising bile.

One by one, people came forward and laid down their candles, or else additional flowers or cards, until the memorial on Harley’s bed was overflowing onto the floor around it.

Once the last one was laid, May Parker stepped up to the front, tears in her eyes. She put one hand to her lips in a kiss, then pressed her fingers against the golden frame before turning to face the ground. “Everyone in this room knew Harley,” she started, voice thick with emotion, “so you don’t need me to tell you just how much he meant to each and every one of us.”

Murmurs of agreement ran through the crowd, along with a few hearty cheers.

“He was clever, and funny, and resilient. Once he got sick, he fought it until the end. He never let his past change the way he treated those around him, in fact, he went out of his way to ensure everyone here was as happy as can be.” She smiled to herself, head ducked slightly. “I for one won’t be forgetting his comedy routines anytime soon.” Everyone laughed along with her.

“Harley reminded me of someone, actually. My son. He died eleven years ago. In a way, Harley was like having a piece of him back. Harley reminded me that there is always something good amongst the bad.

“Hear hear!” Someone in the crowd cheered and raised her candle.

“Yes. To Harley!” May raised her own candle as the sentiment echoed back. A warm rumble in an otherwise cold room.

The door burst open and dozens of heads turned to watch it close. Tony couldn’t see who had come in over everyone’s heads, but he heard running footsteps and watched those same heads part as the person pushed their way to the front.

The girl had blonde hair that curled slightly, and wore what was clearly days old jeans and a hoodie. The moment she broke from the crowd and set eyes on the photo, she collapsed to her knees and sobbed into her hands. 

May knelt beside her and rubbed her back soothingly. “Abbie?” she ventured, earning a small nod from the girl. Tony’s heart just about tore in two. “Oh, honey. Come here.” She swept Abbie into her arms, and Abbie latched on to her like a lifeline, weeping into her shoulder.

The gathered crowd politely disbanded, some lingered a few seconds longer to say their goodbyes to the boy they once knew, but ultimately only May and Abbie were left.

Now that he knew, Tony could see the similarities between Harley and his sister. Their faces were much the same, Abbie’s a little rounder and softer. They cried the same, too, which was possibly the worst thought Tony had ever had to think.

After a while, Abbie pulled herself up, May steadying her shoulder all the way. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I- I only just found out. Dad he- There was a voicemail, on the phone. I didn’t- didn’t know it was there and-” She sniffed again, on the verge of breaking down once more. May continued her smoothing and gentle whispers. “Once I heard it I just- I just came here. My brother’s been dead a week and I only just realised. I didn’t even know he was sick. This place… it made him sick, didn’t it? I should have come sooner- helped somehow.”

“It’s okay.” May pulled her into a hug again. “Shh, it’s okay. You came as soon as you knew, that’s all you could do. There was nothing else anyone could do.”

Abbie couldn’t have been more than sixteen, Tony thought. The idea of her travelling halfway across the country on her own while grieving her only real family made his heart shrivel up and wilt.

“I should have known,” she sobbed, fisting her hands in May’s shirt. “Shouldn’t I have felt it? He’s my brother.”

May closed her eyes tightly, tears of her own spilling out. She held Abbie tighter. “You loved him, and he loved you so much . Always talking about you, he was.”

“Was he?” Abbie pulled back, looking up at May like the world hinged on her. For Abbie, in that moment, it did.

May smiled. “As if we could get him to shut up.” Abbie let out an abrupt sort of laugh at that. “Come with me, I’ll tell you all about it.” May led Abbie out of the main room.

Tony watched until they were out of sight, then turned to the looming figure of Yet to Come. She hadn’t moved, didn’t show any sort of emotion at all.

“I get it,” Tony spat. “This is my fault. I get it, alright? Now let me go home, would you?” Really, Tony just wanted– needed –to know if Peter had made it back alright.

Yet to Come raised her arm again and pointed at Harley’s bed. Tony huffed, because, believe it or not, he had seen the massive memorial. Then something on the top bunk caught his eye, a piece of paper hanging over the edge with a very familiar drawing on it. Tony pulled it out of where it was caught in the frame and examined it. 

The drawing was a miniaturised arc reactor, the one Harley had submitted for the September Foundation and Tony had heartlessly cast away. It wasn’t finished, great swathes were missing. Tony inspected the bed further and found hundreds of scribblings and sketches and calculations. Some were clear, some eccentric ramblings of a mad man. He’d tried to recreate all his research from memory, after he threw it out because of Tony.

While he didn’t know exactly what killed Harley, both May and Abbie mentioned that he got sick. Looking at the scrawled, muddled notes Harley had jotted down, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted to finish his research before he kicked it. His life’s work…

Tony was going to throw up. He clapped a hand over his mouth and ran to the nearest bin but nothing came up. Stupid consciousness form, now he was just left with this dreadful sick feeling and could do nothing about it.

Yet to Come was still by Harley’s bed, but turned to watch Tony from under her hood. It chilled Tony to the bone, the way she just watched like that. Peter had emoted and talked and cared. Yet to Come was this monolithic figure that no one and nothing could touch. She scared Tony, truly and deeply.

In the other direction, the door called Tony’s name. Happily, he’d take the strange darkness over this. He was about half way between them, Yet to Come and the door, and judging by her movement speed Yet to Come didn’t have a chance. So Tony turned on his heels and sprinted past beds and bags and quiet cries. His heart soared when he reached out for the door, which he wouldn’t have thought possible a few minutes ago–to be so happy to return there. He burst through the doors into–

A graveyard.

Tony stumbled to a stop, his heart having soared all the way to his throat where it was now stuck. See, he knew the story of A Christmas Carol, which meant he knew what came next.

Yet to Come loomed out of the fog. Another, smaller person beside her. Tony recognised him instantly. Ned, Past, whatever he wanted to be called. They just stood there waiting.

Beyond the graveyard was… just fog. Fog so thick it looked solid. Tony was trapped in this cemetery. No matter how much he wanted to run, he had to face it. Like Peter had said, the only way out was through. No cheats or shortcuts this time. 

Steeling himself, Tony made his way over. He refused to read the name of a single gravestone he passed, just plain refused to look at them. He didn’t even want to know if they were there to torture him, or random names, or simply empty slates waiting to be filled in. There was only one grave he could be made to look at, and he already knew the name written on it.

“Hello again,” he greeted Ned, putting on a casual tone so as not to give away the fear clawing its way through his veins.

Ned raised his hand and gave it a little wave of greeting.

“Are you not allowed to talk either?”

“Er, no. I can talk, Sir.”

Tony smirked. Sir? It was endearing, in a way, but also very odd that the actual Ghost of Christmas Past called him sir. “Oh that’s good. Talking to yourself gets boring after a while.”

Ned went to reply, but Yet to Come cut him off by–you guessed it–lifting one of her boney fingers and pointing at the gravestone they stood in front of.

Tony knew what it was going to say, but that didn’t do anything to ease the blow of seeing his name carved out of the granite. He wasn’t lying when he told Peter he was scared of dying–he was absolutely terrified of it, even before Afghanistan. It was only since the cave that his fear became tangible. He could taste death in the stale air, and it stuck in his lungs like tar.

It read: Anthony Edward Stark - 29th May 1970 - 17th October 2023 - The greatest mind of our time.

All that air–the life –was sucked from his lungs. 2023, it said. 2023 , only a few years from now. Even after all of the years he’d spent running, he could count the ones he had left on one hand. What had it all been for? He’d lost Rhodey, got people killed, and for what? A few measly years.

In the end, it wasn’t worth it. Not a single second.

“I get it,” Tony choked out, half strangled by the tightness of his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to relieve the pressure. 

The fog around the graveyard was closing in. Tony hadn’t noticed at first, but now it became clear. The area he’d entered into had been swallowed by the grey nothingness, and its tendrils slunk closer at an alarming rate.

Craning his neck back to talk to Yet to Come, he begged, “I know what I have to do now. Please, let me go and do it. Please.”

The fog was pooling around his feet now, rapidly rising up past his ankles and to his knees.

“I understand!” he shouted, not out of anger. “I can stop this all from happening.”

His chest, now, and the fog was cold against his skin. It left his pyjamas damp and clinging to him. Passed his neck, and Tony couldn’t breathe without inhaling it. Try as he might, he was panicking too much to hold his breath for more than a few seconds, and the moment he took a great lungful of air he–

# #

Saying goodbye to May was the hardest thing Peter had ever had to do. They’d only just found each other again after so many years, and having to part so soon was like a personal torture made just for them. In a way, it was.

May had this kind of… resigned attitude to it, and Peter couldn’t help but remember how she hadn’t wanted to let go out of fear she would never get him back. It snapped his heart right in two, halves falling to the floor and shattering into too many pieces to possibly pick up. He promised her repeatedly, again and again and again, that he’d be back by the time the sun rose. May just smiled sadly and nodded, not believing him at all. In the end, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and watched him walk away.

Peter was exhausted. Not only from the night’s Haunt, but from telling the whole ten year story to May. She took it surprisingly well. Either that, or she was totally in shock and willing to just take whatever Peter said as gospel.

They hadn’t moved much from the sofa, and Peter’s hand hadn’t moved from May’s until the moment he left. They just sat, and talked, and talked some more. 

May filled in the gaps of her life, just the broad strokes. By some stroke of luck, a metal supporting beam from the wall spiked itself in the ground an inch from May, and it acted as a sort of tentpole holding up a large lump of concrete from crushing her. They dug her out sometime that night, by which point she was barely awake and in a state of delirium from blood loss. She couldn’t remember much of it, most of her memory of that night came from news reports and what the fire crew who rescued her had said. Peter thought that was for the better, because his and Ben’s bodies couldn’t have been more than a few feet from May. She would have had to lay there for hours…

After that, she had a long stay in hospital, followed by an even longer stint of physical therapy. Eventually, she got to the point where she could walk well enough so long as she had her cane, though long periods without rest and cold weather still caused her muscle to seize up.

She went back to work at the hospital, and back to volunteering at FEAST, but nothing was ever the same after the Expo. Never would be the same again. Peter wasn’t naive, he knew they couldn’t just go back to what it was like before. Ben was still dead for one–telling May that had been hard, she kept looking at the door like she expected him to walk in–and so much time was lost between them. Time they could never get back. That said, May and Peter’s love hadn’t weakened over their decade apart, and wasn’t that all that mattered in the end?

It was sometime after that revelation that Peter found himself sitting in Tony’s penthouse. Getting back in Stark Tower was harder than leaving. The AI in the lift–Jarvis–was incredibly stubborn about not letting strangers up. Peter tried to explain that he and Tony weren’t strangers, but Jarvis was having none of it. Eventually, Peter gave up trying and took the stairs. He arrived at the top sweaty and out of breath and flopped down on the incredibly squashy sofa.

He’d been there ever since, gradually drifting off into the clutches of sleep when someone screamed from down the corridor.

With an odd sense of deja vu, Peter sprang to his feet and ran towards the sound. He ran straight into Tony, who pulled him into his arms for a brief hug before holding by the shoulders.

“You did it!” Tony grinned wide. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. You’re here.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile himself. “So are you,” was all he could think to say. There was more, of course, but that’s all that would come out.

“Yeah, I am,” Tony repeated, like it was some great revelation. They were both there, and both breathing, and both so very alive which should have been the simplest thing and yet was everything.

Peter laughed, and then Tony laughed, and then they were both doubled over in joyous stitches. How was it that someone Peter had known one night was as important as those he’d known his whole life?

Actually, he didn’t care.

“We need to find your finale,” Peter said once he caught his breath.

“My what?”

“Finale, it’s…” Peter waved his hands, trying to find the easiest way to explain. “Redeemed Souls, they get this whole grand finale after the Haunt. All the ghosts come out, it’s the best part.”

“Right. And how do I find it, exactly?”

“Well, you’ve got to prove that you’ve redeemed yourself.”

Tony didn’t even hesitate. He sprinted off towards the lift. “I know exactly how to do that.”

Peter was hot on his heels, though frowning in confusion. Most Souls didn’t know they were redeemed until their finale, but then again Tony knew much more about the Haunts than any Soul before him. “Er, how exactly?” he asked as Tony punched the button for the twenty-second floor.

“Harley,” was all he said in answer.

The twenty-second floor, as far as Peter could tell, was a series of corridors that all looked exactly the same. Nevertheless, Tony led the way through them without blinking an eye and threw open one of the many identical doors. Inside was an office, a very neat one with a huge window that showed the snow pelting down. The flakes were thick and smattered the glass with their fractals.

Tony started turning out the drawers and messing up the desk in his search for… something.

“The reactor,” he clarified, seeing Peter’s confused expression. “Harley’s miniaturised reactor. I gave it to Pepper, but now I need it back.”

“Right.” Peter jumped into the search too, taking a great deal more care than Tony when it came to Pepper’s belongings. 

“When I turned him away–Harley, I mean–I was being a prick just for the sake of being a prick. His idea is genius, and he’s right, the reactor could be the key to the future of clean energy for all. Sure, it needs a bit of tweaking but…”

He trailed off, looking about the room in despair. “It’s not here.”

“How do you know?” Peter, still looking through a huge set of drawers against one of the walls, looked over his shoulder at Tony. His face was the picture of tragedy. “Tony, what is it?”

He shook his head, hand over his mouth. “I… The reactor’s not here. I told Pepper to have it destroyed.”

Peter’s heart fell out of his body like a lead balloon. That couldn’t be the end of it, could it? Tony’s redemption couldn’t hinge on that, surely. Right? “Where would she do that?”

“There’s an incinerator in the basement. That’s where everything goes to get destroyed.”

Alright, so that… sounded bad. “Is there a chance that… I mean, maybe it’s not too late.”

Tony shook his head, his skin white as a sheet. “The incinerator is turned on every night at nine sharp. I’m notified if it isn’t. And I wasn’t notified.”

Peter was only one more problem away from tearing his own hair out. “But isn’t there still a chance. There just… there has to be a chance .”

“We can look,” Tony said. He sounded resigned, like he already knew the outcome. Peter wished he was wrong.

With much less life than before, Tony led the way back out of the winding corridors and to the lift. They went down to the basement in silence, neither daring to speak in case they scared off that small glimmer of hope.

The basement was, essentially, a maintenance floor–grey corridors whose upper corners were lined with pipes, and dozens of doors leading off to various important rooms for running something as impressive as Stark Tower. Lots of storage, too, like lots. Half the rooms Peter peered in were chock full of boxes and crates and metal cases containing god knows what.

Eventually, they came to a door with massive red warning signs on the front. The incinerator room wasn’t large, and almost all of the space was taken up by the thing itself. It was this huge rounded, metal beast with a pipe as wide as Peter that disappeared up into the ceiling and teeth-like bars in the door.

That was the first thing Peter noticed upon entering. The second was–

“Pepper?” Tony’s voice came out choked, and his eyes were fixed on the third and final thing Peter noticed, the thing in Pepper’s hand.

“The arc reactor.”

Pepper looked up at the unfamiliar voice and frowned. She looked Peter up and down, then to Tony. “Who is this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said quickly, “But the short answer is Peter.”

“Hi, Miss Potts.”

“Hello,” she replied carefully, still wary. Peter didn’t blame her honestly. It was all just so… very very odd.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked. A line formed between his eyebrows. “Have you been here all night.”

Pepper didn’t answer right away. She looked between them all, and the incinerator and the reactor in her hand. “On and off,” she said with a dismissive wave. “My car’s snowed in anyway, and I can’t walk home in these.” They all lowered their gazes to her high heels.

“You should’ve come up. I’ve got so many spare rooms I don’t know what to do with half of them.”

“I’ve been… thinking.” Pepper didn’t acknowledge that Tony spoke. She blinked, and something about her demeanour changed. Before, it was like she was in some kind of dazed stupor, but now she was certain. “About a lot, actually. I have some things to say, and you’re going to stand there and take them, understand?”

Tony swallowed and nodded quickly.

“Good. First,” she strode the few steps over to them, high heels clacking on the metal floor, and pushed the arc reactor into Tony’s chest. He brought up a fumbling hand and held it there. “You’re going to give this back to Harley Keener.”

“I know.”

Pepper rolled on, speaking over him. “Second, I made a mistake all those years ago. That Christmas? I should have left with Rhodey.”

“I know.”

“You’re a ridiculous, reckless man, out for no one but yourself.”

“I know.”

“And thirdly, I quit.”

“I know.”

Pepper frowned. “You do?”

“Of course I know. It’s you, I always know.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t accept.”

“ Oh. ” The brief shock in her expression turned to anger. “You don’t accept? Tell me, why is that?”

By this point, Tony wasn’t much more than a puddle on the floor. “Because I’m a ridiculous and reckless man, who wants to change.

Pepper… she didn’t know what to say to that. She just- stood there for quite a while, then pointed at Peter. “Why is he here, Tony? Who is he?”

“I’m sorry, Pepper. I’ll explain later. But right now we really need to go.”

“I- Wha- Go where?”

He flashed one of his signature smiles. “To return this to Harley Keener.”

Poor Pepper just looked more confused than ever. “Right now? It’s a literal blizzard outside.”

“Small inconvenience. We’ve really gotta go, though.” He started for the door, but Peter was closer and threw it open for him to follow through. They set off at a pace down the corridor, Pepper’s heels clacking along behind as she called after them.

“Would you please explain what is going on? Tony! I’m not going to let you just- just walk out in a blizzard! You’re wearing pyjamas, for christ’s sake!”

Tony faltered a step and looked down, like he expected to have magically gotten changed since he went to bed last night. To Peter, he asked, “Time for a quick wardrobe change? You could use one too.”

“Alright, but quick .” Peter took off at a run, not wanting to waste another second.

Tony walked backwards a few steps. “I promise you, I’ll explain everything in the morning. Get some rest, I’ll be there when you wake up.” With that, he ran after Peter. Pepper threw her arms up in frustration and gave up her chase.

A few minutes later, both Tony and Peter were layered up with T-Shirts and jumpers and coats, both pulling on hats and gloves. Tony had a couple good pairs of walking shoes, one of which he leant to Peter. Peter had to wear four pairs of socks for his feet to even resemble the right size, but they were better than his Present shoes.

One minute after that, they emerged into a world of snow drifts and flurries and started the trudge to Chinatown. The roads were too snowed over to even consider taking one of Tony’s cars, no matter how enticing the heated seats were.

“Did you find her?” Tony asked abruptly, shouting slightly to be heard over the wind.

“Who?”

“May.”

“Oh right. Yeah.” Peter warmed from the inside out just at the sound of her name. “I got her address from FEAST. She was surprised, obviously, but in a good way I think. I’m not sure he believed much of my story, though. Think she’s in shock, kinda.”

Tony nodded along, smiling to himself. “Yeah, that checks out if you ask me.”

“She definitely didn’t believe that I’d met you. That’s where she drew the line, for some reason. The rest of it she went along with.”

“You told her about me?”

Peter looked up from under his hood, surprised at the fondness on Tony’s face. “Of course. When I was little I was kinda… obsessed with you, honestly. You were, like, my hero. That’s why we were at the…” He cut himself off. The Expo was still too raw to touch.

Tony understood, and steered the conversation away from that topic. “What’s with the use of past tense, kid? Am I not your hero anymore?”

“Not now I’ve seen you in silk pyjamas. That’s just embarrassing.”

Tony’s laugh echoed off the buildings around them.

They reached the FEAST centre looking like a pair of snow men, flakes clinging to just about every surface imaginable. Peter made an effort to brush himself off before going in, not wanting to leave a puddle if he stood still for too long.

It was near silent inside, only the sounds of snores or rustling sleeping bags could be heard. Peter and Tony knew exactly where to go, so the dimmed lights weren’t much of an issue.

Harley hadn’t moved since Peter last saw, still a lump in his sleeping bag facing the wall. Peter hopped up on the first rung of the ladder and jabbed him in the back.

Nothing.

He jabbed again. Harder.

“Piss off,” Harley mumbled, “Whatever it is, I don’t care.”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s important,” Peter whispered, very conscious of the sleeping people around him.

“Like I said, I don’t care. Now get lost, would you?”

Tony cleared his throat. “Would you care if you won the September Foundation grant?”

Harley bolted dead-straight, eyes comically wide as he took in sight at his bedside. “What the fuck?”

Several people around lifted their heads, or else told them to shut up.

“Congratulations, Harley Keener.” Tony produced the arc reactor from his pocket and handed it over. Harley cradled it like a baby. “You’ve got the money, and the internship, and I’m getting your sister a plane ticket first thing in the morning. I’ve got plenty of spare rooms.”

Harley was quiet for a long time, just looking at the reactor like it would disappear at any second. “What the fuck,” he muttered again. “It’s… the middle of the night and Tony Stark is talking to me. And… who are you?”

“Peter. Hi. Peter Parker.”

“Hi, Peter Parker.”

“He’s an intern, too,” Tony added, giving Peter a wink.

“I am?”

“If you want it.”

“‘Course I want it.”

Tony shrugged, “Then yeah. In the sake of becoming a better man. A good man. You’re an intern too. And this place has all the funding it could wish for, tell your aunt to call me, yeah?”

Harley frowned at Peter. “Hang on, your aunt is May Parker? I thought you were dead.”

Peter ignored that comment for now. He turned around to face the way they had come. Tony followed suit. “Any second now.”

“My finale?”

“Your finale.”

“Sorry,” Harley interrupted, swinging his legs over the edge of his bunk. “His what?”

Tony rubbed his hands together, eager. “This better be worth it.”

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“Hi, this is Harley here.” His face appeared between Peter and Tony’s as he leaned dangerously far off his bed. “I’m very confused, very tired, and quite possibly dreaming. Could one of you explain… anything?”

“I don’t understand.” Peter’s shoulders sagged.

(“That’s what I’m saying-”)

“Did it not work?” Tony asked. “I did what I was supposed to do, didn’t I? I fixed the future.”

(“You did what?!”)

This couldn’t be happening. Peter could feel his heart rate picking up, his breath shortening. “Did you- Why did you give Harley the reactor?”

(Harley flopped back. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering.”)

“Because it’s what I had to do, isn’t it?”

Peter wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it together. “Had to because it’s the right thing to do, or because it would get you redeemed?” he asked, slowly enunciating each word.

Tony didn’t answer right away, he mulled the question over. Peter’s heart thumped against his chest in anticipation of the answer. “Are they not the same thing?”

Remember before? When Peter was a gentle breeze away from ripping his hair out? Yeah. He clutched at his hair, fingers tangled in the curls as he brought his ranks down and raked them over his face. “Jesus, Tony.” Noise was no longer an issue in Peter’s mind. “I can’t- I don’t know what to say.”

“Now I don’t understand.”

“You can’t redeem yourself just because you want to redeem yourself. You have to mean it. Did none of tonight mean anything to you?”

“Hang on,” Tony’s hackles raised, sensing an attack. “I only knew I had to redeem myself because of tonight. And I only realised the mistake I made with Harley because of tonight. It’s all one and the same. I can’t separate two of the same thing. Yes I wanted to save Harley from dying-”

(“From what?!”)

“And yes I want to redeem myself!”

Peter backed away, down past the sleeping people who were no longer sleeping. They watched him go, as did Tony and Harley. “It didn’t work. Unredeemable is unredeemable. You were wrong.”

“About what?” Tony followed him down the aisle at a distance. “What was I wrong about?”

Peter turned and ran, ignoring Tony calling out his name. Out into the street he went, tripping and stumbling in his haste to get away from there. From Tony. 

He’d never wanted to retire, to live again. But Tony had convinced him. Tony, who for all intents and purposes seemed to get it, seemed to understand what the Haunt was trying to tell him. Turns out he hadn’t. He thought he knew, thought he understood, but he was wrong. And if he was wrong about that then…

Then everything he told Peter was wrong too. Humanity was doomed, people were never truly good, everyone would eventually become a Dark Soul. Peter wasn’t a good person.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. His childhood idol became his murderer, became the man who showed Peter life wasn’t worth the risk, became the man who convinced him it was only to be proved wrong in the end. When it was too late. Because Peter was alive now, there was air in his lungs and air out of his lungs and snow and- and footsteps.

“Peter! Kid, stop running. We need to talk about this.”

“Leave me alone!”

Tony had the height advantage and could move through the snow much quicker than Peter’s stumbling run. He caught up, got Peter by the arm and turned him around. “Isn’t wanting to be redeemed enough? Doesn’t that mean the same as actually being redeemed? I’m trying to be a good man, is that not enough?”

“No. No, because it means you were wrong. I’m not- I can’t-” He tried to pull out of Tony’s grip, but he held fast.

“You’re not a bad kid, Peter. And you’re not going to grow to become a bad man.”

“How do you know?”

Silence. Tony didn’t have an answer for that. How could he?

Peter pulled his arm free and ran for it across the road.

“Peter!”

Lights. A rumbling engine. Something heavy knocking Peter aside.

The layer of snow softened his landing. He lay there for a moment, waiting for the impact of the bus. It never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked back. 

Tony was in much the same situation as Peter, peeking between his eyelids and wondering why he wasn’t dead. The bus. Tony had managed to knock Peter clear of it, but not himself. It was an inch from his body, which was in a sort of couched, curled up kind of position.

It also wasn’t moving. Neither were the snowflakes in the wind.

“What…” was all Tony managed to say before something shimmery appeared in the road and Jacob stepped out. Behind Jacob, every other ghost that resided in the afterlife. They clapped and cheered and whooped, led all the way by Jacob with Ned and MJ at either side.

“You saved me,” Peter breathed, half laughing. “You saved me!”

“I wasn’t even thinking,” Tony confessed. Realisation dawned. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… did.”

Peter barrelled into him, arms latched around his torso with all his strength. 

“Is this it?” he whispered in Peter’s ear. “Is this my finale?”

“Yeah.” Peter pulled back, beaming. “You did it after all.” The relief Peter felt in that moment was like nothing ever before. Not just relief for himself, but relief for Tony. For everyone in the world who had a shot at being a good person after all.

He looked over at the approaching group and couldn’t stop himself from running straight to Ned and hugging him so hard he lifted him from his feet. Ned held back and laughed, pulling a reluctant MJ into the embrace too. 

“Dude, that was insane . I mean, everything you did was so…”

“Stupid?” MJ offered. “Ill-thought out. Reckless.”

“I was gonna say awesome.”

Peter grinned, glad to be reunited with his friends. It felt like years since he last saw them, when it had only been a few hours. “It worked though, didn’t it. We redeemed the unredeemable.”

MJ frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “I suppose, yeah. Somehow.”

“And so she talks.” They all turned around to see Tony standing there, Jacob by his side. “I wondered what you looked like under all that cloak and bone costume. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

MJ flashed what Peter knew to be a fake smile and turned away again. He couldn’t keep from grinning himself. It was just so MJ to still hate the guy after everything. Oh well, he’d just have to work her down.

“I believe there is something in order,” Jacob said, gaining all their attention. He reached into his jacket and pulled out four retirement necklaces. Shuri and Riri jogged over to join them. “One for each of you, should you wish.”

They all looked to Peter, who shook his head and held his hands up. “It’s your decision, not mine.”

“Yeah, but, what’s it like?” Ned asked. “I can hardly remember.”

Peter thought. “Good. I think. I got to see May again.” Somewhere on the horizon, the first beginnings of light breached the dark sky. 

“I’m in, then,” Ned announced. “I want to see my Lola.”

“And me,” MJ added.

Shuri and Riri shared a look, conversing in silence through expressions. “We’re in.”

“Well by all means.” Jacob held out the necklaces and everyone took one. Sparks flew across the bodies, but other than that not much changed.

Not to Peter’s eyes, at least, but they must have felt it. Shuri and Riri immediately kissed, and Ned and MJ grinned at each other.

“I don’t think there’s much else for it,” Jacob said. “Other than thank you Peter, for proving me wrong. I’m glad that you did, and I’m glad you decided to retire. All of you.”

“What about you?” Peter asked. “You could find Scrooge.”

Jacob’s eyes flicked to Tony for a millisecond. “I don’t think it’s my time yet. Alright everyone,” he called to the group, “time to head back!”

When the ghosts disappeared and the shimmering door faded, Peter was transported back to where his body had been. He saw Ned and MJ, Shuri and Riri still standing off to the side of the road, and he saw the bus. The bus, which had been frozen in time during the finale, now thrust back into action. 

He couldn’t see Tony.

# #

For his first time getting hit by a bus, Tony rated it pretty high. Sure, he was sent flying quite some distance and rolled and scraped across the road even longer, but it didn’t hurt much at all. Must have been the snow, acting like a particularly cold cushion.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, just waiting for his brain to catch up and process what the fuck just happened. Then he sat up. The bus had screeched to a halt, the driver already halfway out of the door. It blocked his view of Peter and the others, and really that’s all he could think about. Peter, Peter, Peter his heart thrummed, calling out.

“Hello, Tony,” said a voice behind him.

Tony turned. Frowned. “I thought you just left. Come back for more.”

“Came back for something.” Jacob looked down, and Tony followed his gaze.

Looking back up at him was his own face, mouth half open and eyes staring blankly, arms sticking out at odd angles.

“Ah…”

“I am sorry, Tony. Truly. It shouldn’t have had to play out this way.”

Tony was in shock. He must be, because all he wanted to do was laugh his fucking head off. Laugh and laugh until he was crying because fucking hell he was dead.

“Can’t you just… put me back?” asked his mouth, his brain stuck somewhere between sense and nonsense.

“I’m afraid not. It would cheapen the sacrifice, and by extension your redemption.”

“I see.”

The driver reached Tony’s body, and Tony finally got up and stumbled away because having a man reach inside of you was thoroughly disconcerting.

Peter came next. He rounded the bus, Ned and MJ both tugging on his arms to try and pull him back. Stop him from seeing. Too late. Peter collapsed against Ned’s chest, sobbing freely while MJ tried to comfort him. The two other girls–Shuri and Riri he presumed–rushed over to help the driver. Tony looked away.

That the thing with lighthouses and boats. The lighthouse always stayed, while the boat always left. It was their very nature. Destined to part from the beginning.

“There’s someone here for you,” Jacob said, bringing Tony reeling back to the present. “I thought you shouldn’t be alone, but he’s here to take you to the next place.”

One of those shimmering portals opened and a man stepped out. He was bald, and wore slightly wonky glasses on the top of his nose.

“Yinsen?” he gasped, rushing over to the man and grabbing him by the forearms. “God, Yinsen, I never-”

“It’s good to see you again, too,” Yinsen laughed. That warm, gentle chuckle that Tony had grown to love. It had annoyed him at first, the quietness of it, but now it sounded like heaven.

Funny that.

“You’ve come to take me.”

“All of us have our time.”

Tony nodded. He still felt… separate. Like he’d left half of himself back in his body. Shock, definitely shock. He wished it would go away so he could think clearly, sensibly.

The driver had his phone to his ear now, frantically phoning for an ambulance. Ned had managed to drag Peter a bit further away so he couldn’t hear, and MJ was gesturing at Shuri. She shook her head, both their eyes going to Peter with a look of devastation.

Peter had been his lighthouse since the moment they met, guiding Tony through the dark with his light. Tony hadn’t seen it to begin with, he’d pushed back and sailed dangerously close to the rocky shore, but Peter held fast and showed him the way.

Well, maybe Tony didn’t want to be the boat anymore. Maybe Peter had shone the way to a safe shore to land and Tony was free. 

He turned to face Yinsen again, tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t come with you. I’ve got unfinished business here.”

Yinsen nodded sagely, that kind smile on his face, like he knew something Tony didn’t yet. “Quite right. Don’t waste it, Stark. Don’t waste your life.” He gave Tony’s shoulder a squeeze, then disappeared back into the portal which shimmered out after he went.

“So,” he asked Jacob, arms out, “Will you have me?”

# #

Ten Years Later

Tony watched with anticipation as Natasha Romanoff jolted upright. She’d just woken up after her Haunt, in which Tony played the role as Present perfectly, if you asked him. And it’s not even like he’d had a good role model for his own Haunt.

He watched her run down stairs, learn it was Christmas Day–the whole deal. Honestly? He was kind of bored of it by now. He’d seen so many Haunts, and every single one of them redeemed due to his changes.

See, Jacob may be a leader, but Tony was a mechanic. He saw a problem, and he fixed it. Simple as. And the afterlife was in dire need of an overhaul. For one, having more than one Haunt a year. Peter had been right, the hall of Dark Souls grew by the day, but in the last five years they’d managed to put a good dent in it. 

Basically, Tony fixed the after life. No biggie.

Big surprise, Natasha was redeemed. Tony hadn’t doubted it for a second, if he’s honest. He knew when he’d done a good job, and he’d done a good job today. Maria Hill came in over Tony’s earpiece, telling him that the simultaneous Haunt on Clint Barton was a success too. Another two checked off the list.

The ghosts poured out for Natasha and Clint’s finales–going to whichever of the Haunts they worked on that month. Tony hung behind, not really feeling like the celebration.

Jacob sidled up to him, a knowing look on his face.

“What?” Tony had gotten to know Jacob very well over the years.

“Does there have to be something?”

“With you? Yes.”

Jacob chuckled. “You got me.” They lent back against the circular control desk, watching the finale through the Crossing Doors. “I think it’s time.”

Tony frowned. “For what?”

“You know what, Stark.” He reached into his jacket and took out a retirement necklace.

Tony fought to hold back his surprise. “But… It's only been ten years. I’ve got thirty at least.”

“In the old days, yes. But you’ve made such improvements in your time here that I can’t help but think you’ve earned it.”

“Oh. Thank you.” A sliver of hope had built in Tony’s mind, growing bigger and bigger until it was all he could think about. “So, you mean I can… go home?”

Jacob nodded. “If that’s what you wish. And due to your… ah, prominent demise, I can fix things. Alter a few memories here and there, avoid any awkward questions.”

Honestly, Tony didn’t even want to touch that. How he could just make it so that he never died–or that people forgot he had–he didn’t want to know. He was perfectly happy to just accept it and take it for what it was. A parting gift.

Tony had one of them himself. “You too.”

“Me too what?”

“It’s time you retire, Marley. It’s well beyond time. You’ve worked your arse off your centuries, take it from me, you’ve redeemed yourself too. And, if I’m right, there’s someone waiting for you.”

A small, private smile grace Jacob’s face. “My Scrooge.” A moment passed where Jacob just smiled at the thought of one Ebeneezer Scrooge. “I can’t right away. I’ll need to pick my successor, but I believe you are right. It’s my time.”

Tony slapped him on the shoulder. “Atta boy, Marley.”

Jacob held out the necklace.” Quick now, I assumed you’d want to do it without too much of an audience.”

“You know me well.” 

Tony wasn’t fond of goodbyes really, and he’d made a great deal of friends in the afterlife. But none were more important than those he’d left back on earth. See, Tony had been thinking recently. He’d long since left behind his boat and was free to walk on land, slowly winding his way back to his lighthouse. Because the thing about lighthouses, they always need a keeper.

“Say goodbye for me, won’t you?”

“Certainly. I never thought these words would pass my lips, but it’s been a pleasure to work with you.”

“I could say the same thing right back. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Maybe so.”

With that, Tony nodded and reached for the necklace. It tickled as the sparks flew up his arm and across his body, then all of a sudden he was standing in the middle of a street. How Jacob knew where to put him, Tony had no idea, but the second he looked up at the building in front of him he knew where he was. 

Then the real reason Jacob had been hurrying Tony out came along, taking the form of Ned Leeds.

Ned walked straight past Tony, then froze and turned back blinking rapidly. “Oh my god.”

“Hey Ted.”

“Oh my god!”

“Yes, yes, keep your voice down.”

“Right yeah, course. Er, you’d better come in.” Ned hurried to the door to the apartment block and let himself in. Up the stairs they went, right to the top floor where Ned produced a key and let himself into apartment 42 with a brief knock. “Guys, you are not going to believe this shit.” He flung the door wide to reveal Tony.

Tony knew the apartment well. He’d visited in the first few months, checking up on Peter, but found it too painful in the end and stopped going. It still looked much the same, though now brimming with life. 

A Christmas tree sat in one corner, and various other lights and decorations were strung up about the place to make it look festive. On the sofa sat May Parker, whose jaw just about hit the floor. MJ was there next to her, and a pile of wrapping paper littered the ground around them.

“Peter,” May called. “I think you’d better get in here.”

“Quick,” MJ added.

Tony walked in and looked to the left. Two people looked back: Pepper, with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, and Happy who wore a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron with pride. Both of them, rather speedily, left the kitchen and hurried to Tony’s side. 

Happy got there first. He looked unsure what to do at first, then locked his great arms firmly around Tony and squeezed so hard he could barely breathe.

“I never knew you cared,” Tony joked, which only made Happy squeeze tighter and Tony realised his mistake. “Wait, I’m kidding, Hap. I know.”

Happy pulled away and cleared his throat. “Right. Yep. Good.”

He stepped back to make room for Pepper. The first thing she did was slap him on the arm. There wasn’t any real intent behind it, just a playful little thing. “That,” she said, “Is for breaking your promise.”

Tony winced. That last rushed conversation he had with Pepper had weighed on his mind for ten years. “I am sorry about that, genuinely.”

“My, you have changed Mr Stark.”

“Anything for you, Mrs Potts.”

“Sorry,” came a familiar voice walking down the corridor. “I was just finishing up with-”

“Hey, kid.”

And then all of a sudden, Peter launched himself at Tony, who picked him up and spun in a circle out of pure joy. Both of them were laughing, and maybe crying a bit too but that didn’t matter because they were together again. After ten years apart, after a few hours together.

“How are you here?” Peter asked when Tony set him down.

“Got on Jacob’s good side. I’ve got so much to tell you about that place. You two as well,” he added to Ned and MJ.

Peter laughed. “Later, we’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

“Easter.” Peter deadpanned, he gestured around the apartment. “Christmas, duh. It was our turn to host this year. Last year we had Rosh Hashanah, and before that was MJ’s birthday. We all switch it up between us. Speaking of, I’ve got something for you.”

As Peter went over to the tree, he bypassed Ned and they performed this ridiculous handshake that they both had memorised as he said hello properly, then gave MJ’s hand a squeeze on the way passed. He bent down and rummaged about, coming up with a small square present wrapped in bright red paper. It was a bit crumpled up, like it had been wrapped a year ago and kept like that ever since.

“Here,” Peter handed it over.

“Did you know I was coming?” Tony searched for a fold he could tear open. “How did you know to have this?”

Peter shrugged like it was nothing. “I’ve had that for ten years. Always knew you’d turn up eventually, and I wanted to be ready.”

Tony found somewhere to pull as Peter spoke and ripped his present open. A laugh bubbled up from within as he realised what it was. “A Rubik’s Cube.”

“You’ve always wanted one.”

Tony wanted to cry at that. That the kid had remembered all these years, and made sure to have the thing ready on the incredibly slim chance he showed up. And here he was, and there Peter was, and Happy and Pepper and Peter’s family. There was still someone Tony had to find.

The door Peter emerged from earlier opened and two small children came running out. Peter broke out into a grin and dropped to his knees to scoop one up in either arm.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked, grinning at the kids. 

“Well, this is little Mayday.” He bounced the girl in his left arm, and she giggled. She was practically the picture of Peter, with a map of brown hair flopping down over her eyes and spark in her eyes. The boy took much more after MJ. He was quieter and watched Tony carefully. His black curls reached down to his ears, and they flapped about every time he turned his head. Both looked the same age, so Tony assumed twins. “And this is Benjy. Benjamin Anthony Parker.”

“Oh.” Tony was lost for words. Those tears were back, burning the back of his eyes and threatening to leak out.

Peter set the kids down and stayed knelt between them. “Hey, do you know who this is? It’s uncle Tony.”

Instantly, both their faces lit up. “Uncle Tony!” they cried in union, running towards him and latching onto his legs. At that, Tony’s heart overflowed. He didn’t even care that the children were definitely sticky and rubbing it all off on his trousers. (Okay, maybe he did a bit but he had a washing machine. Or… would have a washing machine when he figured out if he still owned Stark Tower. Jacob really could have been clearer.)

“Hi,” he laughed. “And what have you been up to, huh?”

“We were playing with Uncle Rhodey!” Benjy announced happily.

All the eyes in the room went to Tony as the atmosphere changed. “Uncle Rhodey?” he asked, Pepper specifically. But it wasn’t Pepper who answered.

“Yeah.” Rhodey said from the corridor. “Hey, Tones.” Even after so long, after all that happened between them, there was so much affection in the nickname. And yet so much pain and distance as well.

“Rhodey,” he breathed. He… He really hadn’t expected to find Rhodey here like this. It made sense, really, that they would all reconnect after Tony’s death. He wondered if Rhodey went to his funeral. “Hey.”

Rhodey lifted his chin, arms crossed in wait. In wait of what? MJ and Peter each hurried over to peel one of the kids from his legs. Now free, Tony went down the corridor to meet his once best friend.

“I’m an idiot,” he said. The truth, and a good way to start.

“Yes, you are.”

“But I’m here, on my metaphorical knees, begging you to let me find you again. I’ve been looking for you for nearly two decades, I think. Since the moment you left, which you were right to do, by the way.”

“I know I was.”

“So… Whatdya say? Have I found you?”

The seconds before Rhodey replied went on for years. Eventually, he said, “I’d prefer if you were literally on your knees, but this will have to do.” A smirk broke across his face, one that Tony couldn’t help but match.

“You prick.”

“You first.”

“True, I deserve that.”

Rhodey laughed, and it was the most divine sound Tony had ever heard. “You’d better stay put, y’know. Harley and his boyfriend are on their way over, and I think he’ll want to talk to you.”

Peter appeared then. “I went back and explained everything to him, then I told Pepper and she- Well, she took over your company and made sure the arc reactor was the number one research project. Me and Harley worked on it for a few years, and now half the city runs off it. We’re hoping to expand soon. Take it overseas.”

“Sounds great, kid.” He messed up Peter’s hair, which earned him a scowl.

“Here,” he shoved a sprig of mistletoe in Tony’s hand. “Thought you might want this.” Not so subtly, he nodded across the room at Pepper.

She was back in the kitchen, but standing idly and clearly waiting for Tony to come back over. He gave Rhodey a look that said talk later? and Rhodey sent one back that said You best believe it.

It was such a relief off his chest, and now he only had one thing left to do. He walked up to Pepper, holding up the mistletoe and waggling his eyebrows in a way that made her laugh. “Can I kiss you, Miss Potts?”

Pepper pretended to weigh the options, and Tony pretended to be infuriated by it. In truth, he was so besotted that any answer would be enough simply because it was Pepper.

“Yes, Mr Stark, you can kiss me.” She lent up at the same time Tony bent down and their lips met in an explosion of spark.

The room broke out in cheers and whoops.

“Finally,” Happy groaned, now standing with Rhodey. “Years, I’ve been waiting for that.”

“Tell me about it.”

Tony flipped them both off while deepening the kiss. It was better than he could ever have imagined, sweet and gentle yet powerful all at once. Tony was drunk on her. 

Two small hands latched around two of Tony’s fingers, prising them from their place on Pepper’s hip and hauling him away with surprising strength. Tony leaned in as long as he could, not ready to break apart yet. Pepper laughed against his mouth at that, and Tony broke out in a sloppy grin. 

Mayday and Benjy dragged Tony over to the sofa and made him sit. “Mum and Dad do that a lot,” Mayday said in a bit of a huff.

“Do they now?” Tony asked, delighting in the shade of red Peter went. Like he was still a kid and not a full grown man. 

“Uh-huh,” Benjy added, “It’s boring.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s anything but boring.” But the kids had moved off to get their presents, aided by Ned and May, so Tony aimed the comment at Pepper. She dropped her head into her hands and laughed, shoulders shaking with joy. 

Peter moved to sit next to Tony, like right next to him so that their arms brushed together, and leant his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I really am glad you’re back, you know.”

“I know, kid. Me too.”

There they stayed. Lighthouse, keeper, and all the family. 

# #

Epilogue

Maria Hill was the obvious choice. She was practically Tony’s second in command anyway, and definitely the most knowledgeable person in the whole place about his reforms.

And so it was decided, as easy as that. Maria would take over, and Jacob would retire. He would be lying to say he wasn’t scared. After so long here, the thought of leaving was terrifying, but he wasn’t just leaving. He was going to Ebeneezer, where he should have been all along. It just took him a long time to realise it.

And so, with destination in mind, he took hold of his own retirement necklace.

He emerged on the other side just where he expected. A cottage in the Berkshire countryside, nothing too fancy nor too shabby. Fields surrounded for miles, rolling on gentle hills and lined with trees and hedges.

The front door opened, clattering against the wall from the force of it. “Jacob? Is that really you?”

Ebeneezer looked just as he always had. Maybe a little older, but there became a point where one stopped ageing. He had that same look in his eye that Jacob loved just so. “It’s me, Ebeneezer.”

They rushed into each other's arms, clinging and fisting their hands in each other’s shirts. 

“Jacob,” he said, imploringly. “Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob!”

“I love you,” Jacob replied, the words ready on his tongue. “I’ve loved you my whole life, Ebeneezer. Say you love me back.”

“Of course I love you,” he pressed their foreheads together, breathing in the same air. 

Jacob understood now, why people raved about love quite so much. He’d had it for all of a minute and was instantly drunk on its sweet taste. They pressed their lips together in a kiss that ignited centuries.