Peter is arrested for the murder of Quentin Beck. He’s put on The Raft, where they put power dampening cuffs on him, they keep him weak and tired and dumb. He sits alone for so long in a solitary cell, freezing and underfed, that he starts hallucinating Tony talking to him.
“Hey, kid. Don’t fall asleep too long. I know your head hurts. Wake up. Come on.”
“Alrighty, sleepyhead. Put your chin up. Let me see your eyes. Good boy.”
“Up and at ‘em, Parker. Give me the first two-hundred digits of PI. Don’t give me that look, I’m still the boss.”
Sometimes, when Peter’s fever gets high enough, he can press his forehead into the cool metal wall of the cell, and he can imagine that he’s leaning against an Iron Man suit.
It helps him get through the night. That’s really all he can hope for.
tony survived the snap but has been kept on the ramp for testing. He’s in the cell next door. Nothing he says or does convinces Peter he’s real, though. Sometimes he wonders himself if he is.
