In the wake of Iron Man’s death, New York’s grief is expressed in the form of statues.
No one knows whose idea it was originally, and it was built somewhere else and planted in the middle of the night, right where the Tower used to be. New York City woke up and crowded around it, a fresh wave of sadness overwhelming them as people lay flowers and tokens of remembrance at the statue’s feet.
Over the next week, even more statues are planted - in Queens and Brooklyn, making its way through the state of New York. Even other states start catching on, and suddenly there are stone Iron Man’s all over the U.S., from Atlanta to San Francisco. News reports show similar statues being built in China and Europe, and nowhere in the world is free from grief.
The first time Peter patrols in Queens after the statue is built, he tries to ignore it. He swings low through the buildings, because if he goes too high, he’ll find the stony eyes of Tony watching him, and he can’t take that. He can’t.
But the statue, it seems, has its own gravity, just like the living Tony Stark did, and Peter is inevitably drawn to it. His patrol starts with a wide berth around the statue and he subconsciously spirals inward until he’s at the foot of it.
There’s a crowd around the statue - there always is - and they all look up when Peter swings in, touching down to the ground. His vision tunnels to the statue’s face, only dimly aware that the crowd has parted respectfully for him.
Everyone knows that Spider-Man was close to Tony.
Peter pays them no mind, though, and the gravity of the statue reels him in and takes his breath away. He reaches the foot of the statue and falls to his knees.
There’s a feeling beyond grief that’s wrapped around him now, a vice that won’t even let him cry. Everything is internal, a cocktail of sadness and anger and pain that makes him shake apart.
In front of him, there’s a gold plank carved with words, and it takes a second for the numbness in Peter’s brain to process them. He reaches out with one hand and runs a trembling finger over the words. The message is simple.
In remembrance of Tony Stark, the Man of Iron.
Peter swallows thickly, eyes filling rapidly with tears before he pushes to his feet and forces himself to break free of Tony’s gravity. As he swings away, Thanos’ words to Tony echo in his head.
“I hope they remember you.”
The next time Peter goes back is a few days later. Tony’s force is elastic - no matter how far away Peter pulls, he always gets pulled back. He never even makes the conscious decision to.
It’s three o’clock at night, and this time, Peter is alone in his mourning. He sits on the cold pavement and studies the statue in depth this time. It’s ridiculously tall, clad in stone armor but unmasked. Tony’s face is expressive, a mixture of tired and fiercely protective, a perfect picture of the hero. His mask rests in his hand, hung low at his side.
Peter doesn’t remember deciding to talk, but when he does, it feels natural, a little like Tony is still here.
“So I guess you’re not getting my voicemails anymore,” Peter jokes, and it comes out flat and cracks as it falls from his lips, but he imagines Tony would appreciate the attempt anyway.
“Today was good, though. For awhile there, everything froze. You know how when bad things happen or when people die, your world freezes but everyone else’s keeps going and you just feel lost in the dust? That didn’t happen this time. Because this time, everyone’s world froze, even if it was just a little bit.”
Peter swallows, voice thick with emotion as he stares up at Tony’s face.
“The thing is, I can’t help but still feel alone,” Peter confesses. His gaze shifts to the mask in Tony’s hand.
“You see, they’re all mourning over the loss of Iron Man. But me? I just miss Mr. Stark.”
It becomes a regular thing, but never at regular times.
Some days, Spider-Man can be seen standing before the statue at 2PM, and other times, here’s there at 2AM. He doesn’t try to fight against the gravity anymore - in fact, he welcomes it, starting patrol from his apartment and inevitably ending at the statue to debrief.
It’s not the same as a voicemail, but it’s close enough. Sometimes, he even shares his churro with Tony, leaving it at the foot of the statue. And Peter’s not stupid - he knows it’ll probably get thrown in the trash or scavenged by an animal, but it’s the only way he knows how to give back in all the ways Tony gave to him.
“Mr. Stark, you’re not going to believe this!” Peter tells him one night. “Some kid almost fell out of the ferris wheel at Coney Island. I thought that was only a thing that happens in movies!”
He takes a bite of his own churro, chewing thoughtfully. “I mean, to be fair, I guess most things that happen in my life seem to be taken straight from a movie.”
The statue never talks back, of course, but sometimes Peter could swear Tony is listening from somewhere. He hopes he is.
As the days go on, the gravity loses its pull as grief loosens its hold on him. It doesn’t go away, but then again, grief never really does. But it’s enough that Peter no longer spends hours at a time at the statue’s feet.
Sometimes, Peter starts patrol at the statue, doing nothing more than saluting it enthusiastically.
“I’m about to go kick some ass, Mr. Stark! You’d better be proud of me. Too bad I’m stealing all your glory,” Peter snarks, and he thinks that wherever Tony is, he’s laughing at him.
It’s not perfect or even okay, not yet. But it’s healing, and that’s something.
FRIDAY has been helping Pepper clear out Tony’s massive list of files. Most of them are being archived or sent around the world to contribute to research, especially in Wakanda. A few of them get deleted, and others, Pepper simply can’t let go of.
She’s a strong woman, but when she listens to Tony’s logs, she breaks a little.
One day, they come across Tony’s files for the Spider-Man suits. She finds page after page of schematics, and eventually, she ends up at the Baby Monitor file. Most of the logs are from before Tony’s death. However, she notes with curiosity, automatic feed has been submitted multiple times since then.
Logically, it makes sense. Pepper knows that Peter’s slowly gotten back to patrolling, and she’s even had lunch with him a couple of times to see how he’s holding up. She’s just had very little time to track his movements. That was always Tony’s job.
Pepper curiously opens the more recent logs, and the sight nearly brings her to her knees.
“So I guess you’re not getting my voicemails anymore,” she hears Peter say to the statue in front of him.
And yeah, Pepper’s a strong woman, but sometimes, she breaks a little.
As she listens to the audio play, she curls up on the ground and cries.
Creds to the anon who sent me the idea. I hope I did it justice. <3
