~Broken Family~

Broken

PART ONE
BROKEN

Tony's grip slipped from Peter's form as he simply crumbled to dust and blew away in the wind.

No thoughts filled his mind.

Only pain, agony, and loss. Ripping, tearing, roaring through his mind.

He covered his face with his hand and cried.

***

"Who was he?" the blue robot girl asked softly.

Tony slowly shook his head with another soft sob, unable to form words.

"Stark," she said gently, kneeling down in front of him. "We've got to go."

Tony didn't want to leave. What if Peter came back? He would think that Tony had abandoned him.

"It's not safe for us here."

She was right. They couldn't stay. And Peter wasn't coming back.

Reality set in. Instead of being sadder, Tony felt numb.

When he was finally able to even move again, it felt as if everything were heavier. It took all his strength to stand, exhaustion tugging at his stab wound and his heart. He used his nanotech to create a pocket and, with shaking hands, gathered up as much Peter-dust as he could.

Was he really doing this?

Was his son really dead?

Peter can't be gone. Not again. I can't lose him again.

Panic started pulsing through him. Oh gosh, Pepper! Morgan! Harley! What happened to them?!

He ripped out his phone before remembering that it had gotten smashed, plus he was in space, anyway. He doubted AT&T could reach this far. He would just have to deal with the crushing anxiety, the feeling of helplessness as he had no idea if the rest of his family---of his world---were alive or not.

He found himself stumbling, and not just from the stab wound. The girl, who was extremely strong, supported his weight as they limped back to the ship.

***

They were trapped for only one hour after the fuel ran out.

Tony had thought an angel was coming to take him to heaven or something, but it just turned out to be a blazing alien lady who grabbed their ship with her bare hands and began steering it towards where Tony hoped was Earth.

"Who was that?" the girl, Nebula asked again as they played table football. Tony had suggested it to take their mind off things, but if all they were going to do was talk about it, it kind of defeated the purpose.

"He--" Tony aggressively flicked the paper football too hard and it sailed off the table. Nebula picked it up, looking concerned.

"You don't have to talk," she said with a shrug. "I was just...curious. My sister tells---Well, she used to tell me that sometimes it helped to talk."

"He was my son," Tony whispered. A look of confusion and then realization crossed her blue, cyborgish face. She hesitated for a moment, then reached across the table and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We will find a way to bring them back," she promised. Tony gave his head a slow shake.

"Don't do that. Don't give me hope."

Nebula remained silent, but she leaned down to pick up the football, positioning it between her blue fingers.

"Was it your turn or mine?"