While There's Still Something Left

A Change of Direction

At a little after 3AM, Tony gasped awake, his chest on fire from the breath he'd been holding, and he tried to blink through the bleary, sleep hazed panic. The darkness didn't help. There were too many things he associated with darkness. The cave. The wormhole. Siberia. He clutched at his chest, hating how much it hurt.

"JARVIS, lights."

Even under the harsh lights, the nightmares refused to dissipate, lingering in his head.

Sleeping was getting harder and harder every day. Not that he slept everyday. When he did, it was like someone with a very sadistic mind personally designed new nightmares of horrible things happening to Peter. It was bad when his nightmares featured himself, but it was a whole new horror to see the child he was responsible for dying over and over. Tonight's nightmare was even worse than usual. He had to watch Peter being tortured right in front of him, unable to stop it as he was taken apart piece by piece, Norman's laugh echoing in his mind...was it getting worse because of everything they'd found?

Tony managed to calm his breathing, but his sweat stained clothes clung to his stomach and back, beads still rolling down his face from his hair. He pulled himself up despite his protesting muscles, pushing the blankets out of the way so he could take a quick shower. There was no going back to sleep now.

He emerged feeling slightly more human, but no less unsettled. It only took laying in bed for a few minutes before Tony gave up completely and went to the kitchen to pour a scotch. Only, when he arrived, he found he wasn't the only one unable to sleep. Peter's head swiveled in his direction before he even made it to the end of the hall.

"Hey. Little late isn't it?" Tony asked.

Peter shrugged, turning back to his massive bowl of Apple Jacks. "Got hungry. What are you doing up?"

Tony walked to the cabinet, pulling out a matching bowl and the box of Fruity Pebbles. When in Rome, right? "Same."

Peter watched Tony skeptically, hunched over his cereal, then took another bite. "Where's Natasha?"

"She sent me and Bruce away to catch up on sleep."

Peter frowned, his eyes locking on Tony's face. How he hadn't noticed as soon as Tony walked into the room, he didn't know. His eyes were bloodshot, dark bruises painted beneath his eyes, making his skin deathly pale in contrast.

"Doesn't look like you listened," Peter commented.

Tony sighed, dropping his spoon into his bowl. "Peter, I'm tired. Can we not do this? Can't we just eat our cereal?"

"Do what? Talk about how you look like a zombie?" Tony leveled him with a look. "I'm serious, Tony. I know you're exhausted. I can see it on your face. You need to be sleeping."

"Pot-kettle, kid. You telling me you haven't been staying up just as late as me?"

Peter frowned. Touché. He wouldn't admit it though. "I don't need as much sleep. Spider thing. It's different."

"Sure, Pete. You look as crappy as I do. Are we forgetting our little snooze fest during the movie yesterday?"

"I was comfortable," Peter argued, shoveling another bite into his mouth. He pointed his spoon at Tony. "Besides, thats probably half the reason I'm awake. Sleeping half the day will do that to you."

"Sure kid."

Peter couldn't think of a response, and he wasn't sure if he was really the right person to be arguing this point.

"So, I-uh-I'm almost finished with my project," he said instead.

"Already? I guess that makes sense," Tony chewed thoughtfully. "You have been locking yourself in the lab a lot."