Natasha had her eyes closed, her breathing even and deep. Lynn thought she was asleep and was about to put the towel on the bedside table and turn off the light when he suddenly heard her speak.
"That Peter kid, Tony's practically turned him into salted meat."
Her voice carried a hint of drowsiness, but the last syllable rose slightly, indicating that she had wanted to speak for a long time, but had been waiting for him to have some free time.
Lynn's fingers paused in her hair, waiting for her to continue.
Natasha shifted to a more comfortable position, resting her face on his knees, and said that Peter was still writing in his journal every day, but her tone was noticeably more disappointed. Last week, Peter ran into Tony in the hallway, and Tony just nodded and walked away.
When he sent this voice message, there was a metallic clanging sound in the background as a locker door slammed shut, probably because he had just gotten out of school.
Lynn didn't say anything immediately after listening. His fingers gently combed through Natasha's still damp hair, while the lights of the barges outside the window moved slowly across the Hudson River.
The Ancient One taught Strange what "no one can control death" means through her departure, while Tony is teaching Peter through his silence... what he's teaching him, Lynn thinks Tony himself probably hasn't figured out either.
The next morning, Lynn found Tony in the lab.
Tony leaned back in his chair, his coffee cup long since empty. The holographic screen displayed Peter's forcibly retrieved armor, system logs, damage reports, energy core overload records, and the automatically saved combat video.
He had been sitting in front of this screen for a long time, and he hadn't even noticed Lynn coming in.
Lynn placed a cup of coffee she had just brought in front of Tony, leaned against the lab bench, and spoke casually, as if discussing the weather. " Natasha told me about you and Peter."
"Oh." Tony picked up his coffee, took a sip, and showed no intention of continuing the conversation.
Why don't you just tell him directly? Tell him why you let him stay in Queens, why you told him to behave himself, and why you didn't let him participate in high-risk missions.
He rushed out to fight the arms dealers without even understanding the basic functions of the armor. He lacked combat experience, had inadequate risk assessment skills, and was prone to impulsive actions in unexpected situations. These are all facts. But the reason is simply to let you see him.
If you don't explain the reason, he'll only guess and become more aggressive.
Tony didn't speak. He placed his coffee cup on the table and tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the screen, as if reviewing the data he knew by heart.
"He started sending you a log from the very first day he got that suit of armor, writing down every little thing in detail."
The old woman's cat, the lost child, the balloon hanging in the tree. You never come back.
The only way was to find a different approach, something big, so you couldn't ignore him. And he succeeded. Now you're watching him closely."
Tony's fingers stopped.
He leaned back in his chair, wiped his face with his hand, pushed the armor model on the screen aside, and brought up another set of data: Peter's training records.
Simulated combat ratings, reaction speed, and mobility assessments—every indicator is steadily improving, with recent simulated combat ratings already quite high.
It's not that I don't trust him.
"His abilities are steadily improving, I know that. He's stronger, more responsible, and more..." than I was at his age.
Tony's fingers hovered over the edge of the screen, unable to find the right word, and finally he simply tapped the table twice. "But he doesn't have the heart of a hero."
Lynn raised one eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"He has a heart that wants to help others. That's good. He'll stop to give directions to an old lady on the street, hang upside down from a tree for twenty minutes for a child's balloon, and rush to an arms deal at the dock without hesitation."
Tony leaned back in his chair, picking up his now-cold coffee. "But he didn't know when to stop, when to hand it over to someone more experienced. He didn't know when to run."
"He acted without authorization on the ferry, causing the alien weapon to malfunction and cut the ship in two. If I hadn't arrived in time, most of the people on that ferry would have died. He thought he was doing the right thing, but he wasn't capable of bearing the consequences of his mistakes. He knew that with great power comes great responsibility, but he didn't understand the true meaning of that saying. It's not just about rushing in and getting away with it; it's about bearing all the costs. If you succeed, the cost is that the enemy will retaliate, come after your family and friends, and you won't be able to sleep at night, endlessly reviewing every possible detail that could have gone wrong. If you fail, the cost is the lives of all the innocent people present."
Tony put his coffee cup down on the table, his voice even lower than before. "I don't want him to follow in my footsteps."
Are you protecting him as if he were your former self?
Lynn leaned against the lab bench. "But he's not you."
Tony didn't answer. He looked at Peter's face on the screen, standing amidst the ruins of the dock, and his lips twitched slightly.
He needs time. He knows he made a mistake, and he knows it was reasonable for you to take back the armor. But he doesn't know if you still believe in him, if you still believe he can become a better person. He has no idea what you're thinking or feeling here. He's only fifteen, and he's still waiting for your reply.
Lynn walked up to Tony, bent down to meet his averted gaze, and said, "Go and explain things to him."
Tony leaned back in his chair and wiped his face with his hand.
Peter's training data was still slowly scrolling on the holographic screen.
He remained silent for a long time, so long that Lynn thought this arrogant guy was planning to drag things out.
Suddenly Tony spoke, his voice very low.
"You know what I fear most? It's not that he blows up the docks, it's not that he messes up the mission, it's not that he almost killed a ship full of people on the ferry. It's that every time he messes up, he doesn't stop. He just charges forward even faster, as if as long as he runs fast enough, the mistakes can't catch up with him. I know that kind of thinking all too well."
His fingers unconsciously traced the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I was like that when I was young. Later I realized that I was the one really chasing after him. I don't want him to run to that point only to find that he's gone in the wrong direction."
He picked up the now-cold coffee, swirled the remaining black liquid at the bottom, then put the cup down, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the New York morning was slowly brightening; the traffic was still sparse, with only a few yellow taxis waiting at the intersection for the red light.
"You're right. He can't guess what I'm thinking. All he knows is that I don't reply to his messages, I don't let him help, and I don't even call his name when I see him in the hallway. He interprets all of this as ' Tony thinks I'm not good enough.' I can imagine the look on his face every night as he stares at that crappy phone waiting for a reply."
"I understand. I'll talk to him and make things clear. I'll tell him my thoughts, and that his problem isn't that he's unqualified, but that he doesn't understand that some prices, once paid, can never be recovered."
He turned back from outside the window, leaned against the window frame, crossed his arms over his chest, and a very slight, almost Stark- esque, smirk appeared on his lips.
Lynn straightened up from the lab bench, placed the now-cold coffee cup on the table, and patted imaginary dust off his pants. "That's good. Everyone has their own thoughts, and there will always be errors if you don't speak them out. I'm leaving now."
He walked out of the lab and found Natasha in the rest area. Her hair was casually pulled back, and the morning light streamed in through the French windows, casting a pale golden outline on her profile. Lynn walked over, took the tablet from her hand, and placed it on the coffee table.
"Did you get things sorted out with Tony?"
"It's all settled. He's agreed to talk to Peter."
Natasha raised one eyebrow slightly. "How did you convince him?"
"Use facts and logic."
Lynn reached out and pulled her up from the sofa. "Come on, the weather's nice today, let's go for a walk. I need some fresh air."
Natasha did not refuse. She stood up, straightened her collar, and placed her hand in his palm.
The two walked out of the SSC headquarters, the New York afternoon sun shining brightly. They strolled slowly along Fifth Avenue, stopping to watch a street magician's performance in Central Park, and browsing the handmade chocolate shop downstairs when they passed Rockefeller Center.
Natasha picked out a box of sea salt caramel flavored cookies, and Lynn sneaked a bite when she wasn't looking. When Natasha caught him, she glared at him.
"Did you buy this for me?"
"No. But I'm the most important person to you, so I'll assume you can eat it."
"Who taught you this logic?"
"Self-taught."
They continued walking, the leaves of the plane trees along the street were beginning to turn yellow, and the air was filled with the crispness unique to autumn.
As Natasha stopped to browse a secondhand novel at a used bookstore in Chelsea Market, Lynn leaned against a lamppost and watched her.