Healed

                                    

                                          
Some language in this chapter and some mature themes - please don't read if heavy stuff gets to you (I tried not to make it bad or anything, but this is a warning). Hope you enjoy.
                          
Tony was moving as fast as his suit allowed. He zoomed down the stairwell, narrowly missing the ceiling. 
                          
"Peter, stand down," at this point, he wasn't sure what standing down even meant but if Peter was in any danger he couldn't live with himself. Not after it was so close last time, not after he had promised May - and himself - that he wouldn't let any harm come to Peter.
                          
"Tony, do you have the serum?" Steve's voice cane through and the only reason Tony didn't punch him was because he wasn't there.
                          
"Yes I have the fucking serum, where the fuck is my kid?" Tony nearly screamed. 
                          
"It's okay, Tony, I'm here," Natasha's voice was muted. She was whispering, then. Tony almost imperceptibly slowed his pace, but it was enough that he didn't bang into any more walls. 
                          
He reached the door Peter described and saw Natasha lurking outside, eye presses firmly to the keyhole.
                          
"The door's impenetrable by any of SHIELD's weapons," she explained as Tony neared.
                          
"Move aside, then," he said. She didn't question his order, just stepped to the side. Tony blasted the door in, rubble spraying on the other side, and burst in. Peter was on the ceiling and Elena was cowering in a corner. Tony held up his hand towards her. It glowed menacingly. He gently tossed the concoction to Natasha, who filled the syringe with it. 
                          
"If you move, I'll shoot you," Tony threatened.
                          
Elena through back her head and laughed, "You wouldn't. The superhero the people have come to love? No."
                          
"Yes, I would," Tony's voice was low. Elena must have seen the shift in his eyes, because she froze. "You captured Peter, tortured Peter. You will not get mercy."
                          
Natasha crept towards her like a cat, lethal but steady. She held up the syringe and realization dawned in Elena's eyes.
                          
"NO!" she screamed and lunged forward. Tony blasted at her, but she wasn't running to her freedom. She grabbed a gun from the floor, disrupted from her desk by the door explosion. Nat held up one of her hands, and said soothingly,
                          
"Put the gun down, Elena."
                          
Elena cackled, "You have made me into this, Tony Stark. This was you. And my death is on you, too."
                          
"We're not going to kill you," Tony said forcefully. 
                          
"You're not going to," Elena held up the gun, then swiveled it around and placed it in her own mouth. Tony leapt for Peter, latching on to him and throwing his hands over his eyes just as the gun went off. Nat tried to snatch the gun away from her, but it was too late. Elena lay on the floor, eyes glazed.
                          
Tony didn't let Peter look, and walked him out of the room.
                          
Natasha and Steve took care of cleanup while Tony flew back to New York with Peter.
                          
And while Peter lay in his bed at May's apartment, Tony lay next to Pepper, head buried into her chest, and wept.
                          
He wept for Peter, for the horror and trauma he had been through at such a young age. He wept for Elena, for the girl who felt such overwhelming despair and sadness that she took her own life. He wept for himself, for his irretrievably damaged self, for this mess of brain and blood and tears that was Tony Stark. And Pepper held him, and through the night he healed.
                          
The next morning, he did not greet anyone with a sarcastic one liner. He held out his hand to each of them, and they understood.  
                          
Peter understood most of all. They all gathered in the living room, silent but still together.
                          
The Avengers, broken and hurt and in pain, but real and true and better than any single one of them could ever be.
                          
The Avengers - including Peter.
                          
    
    Oooookay. That sounds like a pretty solid ending but I WANT SOMETHING HAPPY, so I'm probably going to write one chapter of fluff to finish this off. Thanks to al of you for staying with this story from start to finish and endless support.