Avengers: Our Fallen Prince

The blood was the first thing Tony saw. Even amongst all the chaos and screaming surrounding him, he could never forget the sight of it, the horrific reminder of his own mortality and how despite all his attempts to be so, he was by no means larger than life and at any moment it could all come to a screeching end. But it wasn't his own blood, despite the battered and torn condition of his suit; he had thankfully remained free of such wounds. No, the blood was someone else's, someone he knew all too well.

It was almost impossible to see in front of him, the explosions coming from all sides and the rubble and dust surrounded him, along the faint cries and yells of the other Avengers, desperately trying to fight off the danger as best they could. But all their yelling, their cries to him, all seemed to fade away into nothing as he found the source of the blood and the broken and battered figure,  in a torn and ripped red and blue suit.

For a moment, Tony just stood there, frozen in his own fear and horror that refused to believe what he was seeing, unable to accept that this was the truth that lay before him. But his denial was all but short lived as Jarvis's robotic yet frantic voice informed him that he couldn't detect a heartbeat on the fallen boy.  That thought alone was enough to drive the man forward, his suit too damaged to do anything but run frantically to him, stumbling and falling in a heap before him as yet another explosion from above nearly took him before he even reach his boy.

Composure of the man he once was all but lost as he kneeled to the battle ridden ground, clutching the boy he'd watch grow tightly to his chest. Screaming, begging and shaking the battered and broken frame in his arms, praying that this was not how it would end. But as his child's head fell to the side and he saw those dead, glazed eyes, he knew there was nothing else he could do, there was nothing else left of the boy.

Peter was gone.