Lost in Translation

Ice Cold

"Stark."

Tony looked up from the pan, lifting it from the stove as he did so to make sure the eggs wouldn't burn.

"Fury. How did you get here?"

"Helipad on the roof. I have an access card, you know."

Tony went back to cooking breakfast. He liked to have something hot on the table for Peter before he went to school. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and a growing teen with a super-sized appetite was bound to need breakfast even more than the average teen.

"What do you want?"

Fury seemed to ignore the question. It wasn't out of character, the director was always set on what he wanted. "Are you cooking? I've never seen you cook once in my life."

"I'm making eggs for Peter, he has school."

Fury almost smiled. "I'm here to see Peter, actually."

Tony tensed, his knuckles going white on the pan handle. He had been getting more and more protective of the boy since he moved into the Tower, and there was this little voice in his head that was always saying check on him and help with homework and carry him to bed when he falls asleep on the couch after movie marathons with the team.

"No."

Fury chuckled dryly. "I think you'll find that I actually have custody of him now, so I can see him whenever I want."

"I'm not under your custody at all." Peter came around the corner of the hall, dressed for school. His backpack was slung over his shoulder and he let it slip to the floor as he sat at the table. Tony slid some eggs off the pan and onto Peter's plate, ruffling the teen's curls as he did so.

"You are now."

Peter and Tony both looked over at the director, looking confused and concerned and a million other things all at once.

"What?"

"May was found dead this morning, Peter, there was an explosion at the apartment complex and they were only able to put the fire out this morning."

Peter didn't react right away. He didn't move, didn't lower his fork or close his mouth. He didn't blink. He didn't breath.

Tony put firm hands on the teen's shoulders, trying to convey some sense of comfort through his palms. "Peter," the billionaire breathed.

"Since I am now your guardian, you'll be returning to the base with me. I expect you'll be reinstated as a-"

Peter didn't hear any of Fury's words. His heart and mouth and lungs were trying to keep up with his ears, trying to process what was happening, trying to... trying to...

"Peter, breathe."

Tony had lifted the teen out of his hard, wooden chair, and carried him swiftly to the couch.

"Look at me, kid."

Peter lifted his head, but his eyes wouldn't focus. His mind wouldn't focus. He just didn't know... He couldn't...

All of a sudden, Peter's mouth was dry. It was dry, but there was this lump of saliva in his throat he tried to swallow down but he couldn't get his throat to cooperate.

Tony raked shaking hands through the teen's hair. "Peter, please, try to focus. I just need you to-"

"How long?" Peter's voice was choked with tears and stiff muscles and lack of oxygen. His body seemed to have a mind of its own, forcing a breath into starved lungs.

"What was that?" Tony asked gently.

"How long was she sitting in that fucking rubble for someone to get her out?"

Tony jumped at the venom in Peter's voice, but Fury had seen it all before. "The explosion happened around 11:37 last night, she was found around 7 this morning."

"You couldn't send an agent? You couldn't send someone to get her out of there? To call me?" Peter spat at the man, standing on shaky legs as he did so. "You couldn't do one fucking thing for her?"

Fury didn't betray any emotion. "I heard about the explosion in the morning."

"Bullshit. You have tabs on every one of your little ants, you bastard, you knew. You knew. You had to have known." Tony made to hold Peter's arm, but the teen ripped his elbow out of the billionaire's hands and pulled a knife from his waist band.

"You keep a knife on you at school?" Tony exclaimed, but Peter just held the blade out towards Fury's neck.

"I hate you. I have hated you since that first fucking mission. From that first Recon mission. From the first time you said to toughen up, to the moment you told me pain killers were for weak agents. I hated you for every day for the last 6 years.

"And in this moment," Peter spat, pressing the knife closer to the skin. "I don't care at all. I could drive this blade through your artery in one movement, and I wouldn't care. I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't feel any shame or guilt. I wouldn't see your face in my mind when I close my eyes. I wouldn't even let you haunt me, you... you... you..."

Peter crumpled, sobs wracking his body as he let the knife fall out of his hands. Tony tried to catch him, but he just ended up on the floor with the teen, wanting more than anything to make it better.

"The last thing I said to her..." the teen whispered, the words barely reaching Tony's ears.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "You were always weak when it came to the bloody stuff. You're a weak agent, Parker. You always will be."

"Shut up!" Tony yelled, finally giving himself permission to protect Peter. "Shut up, you piece of shit, you-"

"What is all this yelling?" Natasha came into the living room, her hair in a messy bun and her pajamas hanging loosely around her hips. "Fury." At the sight of the director, the ex-assassin straightened.

"Natasha. Sorry to wake you." Fury gestured to Natasha's appearance. "I was jsut collecting Peter."

"Peter?" The red-head looked over at the teen, sobbing into Tony's shoulder. Her heart broke, but part of it hardened, cold as ice, at the thought that Fury had done that to her son. "Why?"

"His aunt, May. She died in an explosion last night. As his legal guardian, I've come-"

"Why are you the guardian?" Tony looked up at Natasha with furrowed brows.

Fury let a shadow of a smile pass over his face. "He has no other family."

Natasha sucked in a breath. She knew what she had to do. What she could do. What she needed to do. Even though it was what Natasha had always wanted, now that the opportunity was here, she was terrified. Terrified of announcing to the world that she was a mom. That she'd lost her son at just 14. That she'd missed so much.

"Yes, he does."

Tony was trying to comfort Peter again, but at those 3 words, both the teen and the older man looked up. Peter coughed a few times, sucking up tears and snot and whatever else. He wanted to hear this.

Natasha was a SHIELD agent. She could have known, when Peter was found. She could have been there. Seen his file. She might-

"He has me."

Fury rolled his eyes, hiding his panic behind indifference. "Natasha, you can't just claim to-"

"Я его мать. Peter Romanoff, born August 27th, 1997. Born in Russia, born to me. Taken. Lost. Found. I'm his mother. He is my son." (Translation: I am his mother.)

Tony froze, his eyes darting between Natasha, Fury, and Peter. Fury licked his lips, Peter waited with baited breath, and Natasha seemed to draw herself up taller.

"How did you figure it out? After all, last time you saw him was 15 years ago."

"A mother always knows," Natasha whispered.

No one seemed prepared to catch Peter as he flew out of Tony's arms and down the hall, escaping into his room and out the window.