Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter had been gone for three weeks. That was over five-hundred hours; thirty-thousand minutes; nearly two-million seconds of suffering. And every single one of them was on Tony for not knowing what was happening.

He’d not known Peter well enough. He’d believed he would have taken off on his own. He’d not trusted him to stay and share the burden that was on him. Tony had promised Peter that he would be there, take the responsibility of The Infinity Stones, but Peter had been alone.

No, not alone—he’d been trapped with monsters who had done who-knew-what to him.

And Tony hadn’t known.   

How many times had Peter cried? How often had he begged for help, for Tony to save him? How long did he hold out hope that Tony would come for him? What had made him give up hope, or did he always have faith that he would be saved?

Peter had not been cared for, that was obvious. Tony could see from the bony wrists and fingers, the hollow cheeks and sharp jaw, that he’d not been fed enough while he’d been imprisoned; and his dry skin and cracked lips made Tony think he was dehydrated, too. How much had that hurt him? Did his stomach gnaw with hunger? Did his throat feel arid? And for how long? When was he last given something to eat? When did he last have a sip of water?

Tony’s mind was full of questions he was scared of the answers to.

“Tony, I need to examine him,” Bruce said, drawing Tony from his tormented thoughts. “And we need to get him out of here.”

Tony dragged his gaze from Peter’s face. “What?”

“We have to get him out of here!” Bruce said urgently. “He needs proper care.”

The words rushed through Tony, the need, and he repositioned his hold on Peter and got to his feet. He expected the weight to be heavier, to struggle under it, but he could as easily have been holding Morgan. That was impossible, he knew; Peter had to weigh more than her. But it felt desperately wrong to have reason to compare.

“I will be with you in a moment,” T’Challa said. “I need to wipe the security footage. I don’t want them to find a way to use this against us.” He pressed a finger to the comms in his ear and said, “Shuri, I need you…”

Steve led the way out of the room and through the halls to the stairs they’d descended to enter The Raft. They passed unconscious guards on the way, which made Tony’s lip curl in disgust. They must have known what was happening to his kid, they had to have seen it, yet apparently none of them had stepped in to stop it. He wished he had killed them all instead of following Peter’s moral code and leaving them alive.

They got out into the cold Atlantic air, and Peter shivered. Tony hugged him a little closer and hurried up the ramp into the Quinjet. The rest of the rescue party surrounded him and Peter like a concerned human shield, all wanting to be close to the object of their worry.

“I need a stretcher and a med-kit,” Bruce said tersely, and Sam hurried away.

Tony came to a stop and pressed his cheek against Peter’s matted hair. “I’m here, kid,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Though was he okay? He’d said he didn’t think he was before he passed out. Was that fear talking, or did he know something more than Tony? Could he feel something?

Peter couldn't die—Tony knew that and  had never been more grateful for it—but he was so hurt, so obviously weak. And he'd turned a gun on himself? What had driven him to that? Why would he have tested the fact of his immortality? The overdose had proven that he could be hurt, so what would a bullet to the brain do to him?

“Here,” Sam said, wheeling up a stretcher and lifting away the large black pack to leave it clear for Peter.

Tony started to lower him, trying to force himself to let go of his son, but he couldn’t make himself release him fully.

“Tony…” Bruce said cautiously.

Tony gave his head a quick shake and sat on the end of the stretcher with Peter held against his chest. He locked his eyes on Bruce and growled, “Make it work.”

Bruce pursed his lips and nodded. He unzipped the med-kit and took out a stethoscope, inserted the earpieces, and then lifted the hem of Peter’s long-sleeve shirt.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered, and another cursed loudly.

Tony swallowed bile. Peter's body was ravaged by starvation. He thought he'd known how bad it would be, had seen his gaunt face, bony wrists and hands, but he’d not come even close to knowing. Peter’s stomach was shrunken, and every rib was visible. Tony had seen this before on TV, images of starving children in third-world countries, but he had never seen it in person, and he couldn’t have imagined seeing it in one of his children.

Tony fixed stricken eyes on Bruce and whispered, “How?”

“In three weeks, with Peter’s enhanced metabolism, it wouldn’t be hard if he wasn’t given enough to eat,” Bruce said in a dark voice. “They would have wanted him weak and compliant.”

“I don’t think he was given anything at all,” Sam said, his voice wrecked. “Look at him.”

Bruce held up a hand to silence them and held the stethoscope to Peter’s chest, moving it around and listening carefully. “His heartbeat is steady, and I'm not hearing any signs of damage from starvation. I'm guessing that's The Stones' influence. He would have lost heart muscle, otherwise, when his body ran out of fat to burn. And his lungs are clear. I think the unconsciousness is just sheer exhaustion. He's obviously drained.” He touched a large but exceedingly gentle finger to the deep shadows in the hollows under Peter’s eyes. “He needs rest.”

“He can have it,” Tony said, stroking Peter’s hair back from his face. “All he’s going to do from now on is rest.” He hugged him a little closer. “You hear that, Pete? You can rest now.”

Peter gave no sign that he was hearing him, but Tony felt some comfort saying it.

T’Challa came up the ramp and said, “We’ve copied the video feed from the prison and wiped it from their system. They’ll have no proof we were ever…” He caught sight of Peter’s shrunken stomach and chest as Bruce stepped aside, and his eyes widened and jaw clenched. “They did that to him?”

Barnes nodded. “I think it had to be Thuri. He was with Peter when we found him, and there was other evidence he was involved in Peter’s… care.”

T’Challa narrowed his eyes, and Barnes looked away.

“Okay, lock down, people,” Steve said. “I’m getting us out of here.” 

Bruce pulled Peter’s shirt down again, hiding the horror that was his emaciated chest and stomach. Then, he took the blanket Wanda had retrieved for him. He tucked it around Peter and then placed straps over his legs and hips.

“You sure you’re determined to stay like that, Tony?”

Tony nodded and leaned his cheek against Peter’s hair. “I am.”

“Okay, then hold on to him tight.”

“Where are we going?” Steve called back from the cockpit. “Wakanda or Tool Shed?”

“Tool Shed,” Tony answered quickly.

T’Challa frowned. “We have the equipment and expertise needed to treat him in Wakanda, and—”

Tony shook his head quickly. “No. I know what you’re offering, and I appreciate it, but I’m not taking him back there. He was already attacked in Wakanda once. Bruce can handle it.” He turned to Bruce and lifted a challenging eyebrow. “Can’t you?”

Bruce grimaced. "I need more supplies than we have there. He needs IV hydration, at least, but he’s going to need more nutrition than we can give orally. His stomach is going to have shrunk drastically, and he needs a massive amount of calories and protein in him fast. He’ll need total parenteral nutrition, at least to start with.”

“Then we’ll get them,” Tony said. “Call Helen Cho. She said she was going to DC when she left Wakanda. She can get what we need and bring it to us.”

Bruce stared at him a moment, seemed to see his resolve, and said, "I'll see what she can do."

“Tool Shed,” Tony called back to Steve. “And fast.”

“We always are,” Steve said.

Tony steadied himself as the engines fired and they lifted, and he held Peter closer and whispered in his ear. “We’ve got you now, kid, and I’m going to take care of you. I’ve got you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and finally said the words he’d been holding back for so long, feeling like he was cheating without Peter conscious to hear them but needing to say it for himself, “I’ve got you and I love you, Pete. I’m never going to let you get hurt again.”

xXx

The moment Rhodey got the call from Tony that it was safe to leave, he was in his suit and flying towards the Tool Shed. He arrived before the Quinjet, and so got to work preparing the place for them. He’d seen Peter on Friday’s live feed, seen how thin he was, so he did the only thing he could think to do to help when they got Peter back—he fixed a meal for him.

He wasn’t much of a chef, but he could fix up a pretty good mac and cheese from scratch that Morgan always requested when he visited. He took the ingredients from the fridge and got to work, cooking the noodles and fixing the sauce. When it was ready, he topped it with shredded cheese, stuffed it in the oven, and then started heating milk for hot chocolate. Peter would need the calories, and it was something homey and comforting that Rhodey thought he would like.

When he heard the Quinjet approaching, he turned the burner down and rushed outside to meet them. The jet touched down, and the ramp lowered, and Rhodey stood waiting anxiously at the bottom. Barnes, Sam, and Wanda were off first, and they all bore strained looks and horribly haunted eyes.

Rhodey was a little surprised. Yes, he'd seen it was bad, and obviously, they were worried, but they had Peter back now. They could take care of him. The worst was over. This was just about recovery, and they were all there for that.

He shifted from foot to foot impatiently, then Tony appeared, Peter in his arms and Bruce at his side, and he felt a new pang of worry that Peter was being carried. He reminded himself Peter would be tired, weak, and Tony would want to hang on to him. Then he got a better look at Peter's lax face, and he realized he was still out. Sleeping, he had to be just sleeping. As the light reached him when Peter stepped out of the plane, he saw what he hadn't been able to see clearly on the suit's feed. Peter wasn't just thin—he was starved.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

Bruce patted his shoulder as he passed and said, “Take him down to the med-bay, Tony. We’ve got some of the stuff we need there. We’ll do better when Steve has picked up Helen. But we can make him comfortable, get him on fluids, and clean him up a little for now. That’ll help when he wakes up.”

Tony nodded and walked past Rhodey without looking at him. Rhodey turned and stared after him, horror in his gut, and then he rushed in after him, through the door that Barnes was holding open for him.

Sam sniffed the air and said, “You’re cooking?”

Rhodey felt stupid now that he’d thought Peter getting back, eating and being comforted with hot chocolate was going to be an option. “Yeah. I’ll shut it down.”

“No,” Sam said. “Finish it. We all need to eat.”

Rhodey gave his head a quick shake. “I’ve got to be with Peter.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said vaguely. “There’s milk on the burner, I was going to make… Never mind. But the mac and cheese needs another ten minutes.”

He rushed out of the room, through the halls, past the labs and storage areas, into the med-bay where Tony was laying Peter on a cot and Bruce was pulling up a stool close to Peter's head and guiding Tony to sit on it.

When Peter was settled and Tony was sitting at his head with his fingers stroking Peter's dirty and tangled hair, Bruce fetched a tray of supplies and a bag of fluids which he hung from a hook beside Peter and then hesitated. "We need to get an IV in. Going by what happened last time he needed one in Wakanda, Tony, you might need to…"

Tony flinched. “Yeah, but I’ve never done an IV before.” He looked at Peter’s face and said, “He’s not held any of us back so far, and he sure as hell didn’t hold the asshole with the gun back, so maybe he’ll let you do it.”

Bruce unwrapped an IV cannula kit and said, "Okay, Peter, it's me, Bruce. I'm going to put an IV in so we can get you some fluids. It's not going to hurt much, just a pinch, and it'll make you feel better. Just let me work, okay."

There was no response from Peter apart from another shallow breath between cracked lips, but Tony gave Bruce a nod.

Bruce picked up the needle, which looked tiny in his huge hands, and patted the back of Peter's hand to raise a vein. With a whisper of reassurance, he inserted the needle, then pulled it out slowly, leaving the tube of the cannula in place. He did it all exceedingly carefully, gently, the movements looking strange with his sheer bulk.

He hooked up the IV, released the clamp, and said, "We won't get instant results, but it'll work faster than the TPN will when we set that up. I think I'll put him on oxygen, too; his breathing is pretty shallow."

“I’ll get it,” Rhodey said jumping up, needing something helpful to do to make him feel a little less like he was losing his mind with the horror of what he was seeing.

"The masks are in the second cupboard and the tank is in the supply closet,” Bruce said.  

Rhodey rushed away and fetched what they needed and carried it back, wheeling the large oxygen tank on a trolley. Bruce took it from him and set it up, placing the mask over Peter’s face. His breath fogged it with an exhale, and Bruce nodded approvingly.

“I want to clean him up,” Tony said. “He’s got the stink of that place on him.”

“I’ll get what you need,” Rhodey said, relieved to have something to do again.

He went to his bedroom and got clean washcloths from the bathroom cupboard and a bottle of liquid soap, then rushed back to the med-bay where Bruce had set up a bowl of water on a table, and Tony was using a pair of scissors to cut away Peter's dirty and smelly clothes.

When he pushed the front of his shirt open, Rhodey gasped and took an involuntary step back.

“What did they do to him?” he asked, his voice filled with the horror he felt at the sight of Peter’s visible ribs and shrunken stomach. He’d never seen anything like it in person before.

“It’s what they didn’t do,” Bruce said. “I don’t think they fed him at all. His metabolism sped the process. He’s only alive because of The Stones, I think.”

“How could they have let this happen?” Rhodey asked. “They were supposed to protect him.”

“He went willingly,” Tony said, his voice cracked with strain.

“But how was that asshole able to hold a gun on him? That should have been impossible. Peter could have stopped that without hurting anyone?”

“I guess…” Tony sighed. “I don't know. I mean, he thought they were going to hurt Morgan, so maybe he was stopping them from working properly." He squeezed his eyes closed, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “He was scared. And he said…” His eyes flew open wide and he gasped. “He tried to tell me!  God, he… he tried, and I didn't see. When I spoke to him that time, he told me to go home to Morgan. He sounded so… I messed up. Oh god, I should have known."

“We couldn’t have known,” Rhodey said, more to comfort than because he truly believed it. “They had the tech to make us think he was in Queens when they called. He obviously couldn’t say anything to tip us off other than what he did. We were all fooled.”

“I am going to kill Ross for this,” Tony growled.

Neither Bruce nor Rhodey argued. Rhodey couldn’t speak for Bruce, but he wanted Ross dead, too, no matter what Peter’s morals would say about it. Ross was the reason this had happened. He'd put him on The Raft; he'd been the one that had Peter starved. If Rhodey was ever going to do one good thing in his life again, just one thing, it was to make sure Ross knew the same pain Peter had suffered in that place.

Tony took the washcloths and soap from Rhodey, wet the cloth, squeezed on the soap, and ran it over Peter's stomach and chest, bumping on each protruding rib. As the water trickled down Peter's side, he made a small moaning sound, and his breaths sped.

Tony quickly dropped the cloth into the bowl and leaned to whisper in Peter’s ear. “Pete, it’s okay, I’m here. That’s it, you can wake up now. You’re safe.”

Peter had stilled again, though, and Bruce said, “I think it’s too soon, Tony. Finish cleaning him up. It’ll be better for him when he wakes if you do.”

Tony sighed and picked up the cloth again. Rhodey took the second and moved to Peter’s other side. Mindful of the IV in the back of his hand, he lifted Peter’s stick-thin arm and washed away the grime that had accumulated over his captivity.

It helped to do it, to feel useful, and he lost himself in the motions of helping Peter, the kid he loved.

The kid they’d almost lost.

Chapter Text

Bucky prodded at the bowl of mac and cheese Sam had dished up for him, his thoughts drifting and tormented.

Everything that had happened since Stark’s AI had announced his house was under attack was weighing heavily on his shoulders. The knowledge he alone held about what had happened to Peter on The Raft, what it meant, was weighing on him even more, and he knew he was going to have to share it soon. He didn't want to, though. He didn't know Stark well, he'd never had a chance to because of his past unforgivable crimes against Howard and Maria Stark, but he knew how much he loved that kid, and he was going to have to crush him with the truth.

When he’d heard the words Thuri was speaking through the thick door—Yearning. Power—he’d known they were triggers. He’d once had his own triggers, and Thuri was the one that had removed their power. It had taken weeks of pain and struggle, being locked down as they unpicked his brain to make the words impotent. Thuri had taken the knowledge he’d gained from Bucky and turned it on Peter. He’d made him a weapon for Ross to use.

Bucky had to tell them, they needed to know, but he dreaded doing it. He reassured himself that Peter hadn't obeyed; he'd turned the gun on himself instead. The power of his conditioning was either not as strong as Bucky's, hadn't been completed, or Peter was stronger than Bucky ever had been.

Was it possible Peter had beaten it himself? He had The Infinity Stones, and everything Bucky had seen and heard about the kid made him see just how strong he was, how good. Bucky hoped that the strength Peter had shown before would counter what had been done to him until they found a way to remove the triggers.

He didn't know how they'd do that, though. Thuri was the expert that had solved it for Bucky, and he was dead. He had no regrets about causing that death, though. For what Thuri had done to Peter, he wished he could have made it slower and more painful; he deserved far worse than that swift and relatively painless end.

“You going to eat that?” Sam asked, breaking into Bucky’s tormented thoughts.

Bucky blinked up at him. “Huh?”

Sam sighed and pushed away his bowl. “Yeah, me neither.”

Bucky dropped his fork into the bowl and raked a hand over his face. “I’ve got to do something.”

“We all feel that way, but right now, there's nothing we can do. Tony and Bruce are taking care of Peter, and Rhodey is taking care of Tony. They just need space. And we can’t do anything about Ross yet. Hell, I’m not sure how we’ll ever be able to do something about him. He’s the damn President!”

“I know, but that’s not what I meant,” Bucky said, and then forced the admission from himself. “I think Peter’s been programmed like I was—as the Winter Soldier.”

Sam's mouth dropped open, and his eyes bugged. "No! They wouldn't."

Bucky grimaced. “The man that was there with Peter, Thuri, was the man that removed the programming from me, so he knew how it works, and I heard words that sounded like triggers. And before I killed him, Thuri said Peter belongs to Ross now.”

Sam cursed under his breath. “God, the kid…”

Bucky nodded. “Exactly.”

Sam slid off his stool and said, "Come on, we've got to tell them. They need to know."

Bucky bit his lip.

Sam gripped his arm. “I get it, I know how you feel, but we have to warn them. If Peter wakes up and is programmed, we have no idea what he’ll do.”

"I don't think he'll hurt them," Bucky said quickly. "He turned the gun on himself back there when he was ordered to kill. He was aimed at Steve, and then something changed, his eyes shifted focus, and he pointed it at himself. If Stark hadn't shown up, he would have put the bullet in his own brain.”

Sam stared at him a moment, nodded, then said, “They still need to know.”

Bucky sighed heavily. He knew Sam was right, but he was about to tear Stark apart even more than he already was. You just had to look at the man to see how wrecked he was, and that was just the guilt and reaction to the physical damage to the kid. If he knew that Peter’s mind had also been attacked, it was going to destroy him.

He slid off his stool and followed Sam through the halls to the med-bay where he could hear Stark's voice rumbling in comforting tones, which he was sure were directed to Peter. He took a deep breath and went in.

Peter was now dressed in blue sweats and a white t-shirt, which were swamping his emaciated frame. He was clear of the grime that had been coating him, but his hair was still dirty and tangled. He was unconscious, an oxygen mask over his mouth making the extreme weight loss on his cheeks and jaw even more prominent.

Rhodes was on the other side of the bed, and Bruce was standing at the foot. They looked around as Sam and Bucky entered, but Stark’s gaze remained fixed on Peter.

“Tony, we need to talk to you,” Sam said. “Bucky’s got something you need to hear.”

Stark seemed to have to drag his eyes away from Peter, and they fixed on Bucky. They did not hold the hatred that had been there in the beginning, but there was definite resentment that Bucky knew was about to get much worse when he'd told them what he knew.

“What?” Stark asked wearily.

Bucky stepped a few feet deeper into the room, took a deep breath, and said, "I think—no, I'm sure, that Peter's mind has been attacked like mine was by Hydra."

Rhodey gasped, and his hand fell on Peter's bony shoulder.

Stark looked blank. “You think they messed with his head?”

“Yes. I think he’s been programmed like I was when I was The Winter Soldier.”

Stark paled, and his fingers tightened convulsively on the sheet beside Peter's head. "No. Definitely not."

Bucky had expected this response, and he laid out the facts the way he had with Sam. “The man I killed, Thuri, was the one that stripped me of my programming, so he knew how it worked. I heard him saying trigger words in Wakandan when we were trying to get to Peter, similar words to the ones Hydra used on me. Before I killed him, he said Peter belongs to Ross.”

Stark’s jaw twitched. “No. I don’t know what you think you’re doing with this, Barnes, what you hope to achieve, but there is no way Peter is anything like you.”

"Tone…" Rhodes said, his voice wrecked with sadness and stress.

“No!” Stark snapped. “They can’t have because—”

“Because they wouldn’t be that cruel?” Bruce suggested. “Because it’s not fair? Tony, you know better.”

“No,” Stark growled. “Because it means I didn’t get my son back after all, and that can’t be right. He’s here, I’ve got him, and he’s already so messed up that he’d be dead if not for The Stones. That’s enough. That’s all we need. Because Peter, with The Stones and programming, is unlike anything any of us have ever faced before, and we can’t do it.”

Rhodes stared at him, his jaw tight and eyes hard. “How would we know?”

“He’d be different, right, Bucky?” Bruce said. “When he wakes up, we’d be able to tell?”

“I think he already is different,” Bucky said. “He turned the gun on himself.”

Stark looked up again, tears running unchecked down his cheeks and his eyes bleak as if he was caught in the nightmare memory of what he'd walked in on. "Yeah, he did."

“I think that was him fighting back,” Bucky said. “He was ordered to kill me and Steve, he was aiming the gun at Steve, and then he changed. He turned the gun on himself. He won't be like me, I don’t think. He's either stronger, or the programming was weaker. He was able to fight it. The words are there, though, so it's a risk."

“Peter’s not a…” Stark trailed off and, inexplicably, laughed. “Worthy. I heard him say it again, just like before. He is Worthy. The Stones told him they wanted to do good; they chose him because he was a good enough person for them. No one could beat that back with some magic words.”

“They’re more than magic words, Tony,” Sam said. “It’s deep psychological programming.”

Stark shook his head. "I know, and I'm not saying they didn't try, but I'm saying… He turned the gun on himself, yes? Peter was stronger. The Infinity Stones were stronger. He is not a threat."

Bruce exchanged a meaningful look with Sam and said, "We need to prepare ourselves for the worst-case scenario."

Stark glowered at him. “How? You want to lock him down? Because there is no way in hell I’m letting anyone do that to my son.”

Bruce considered for a moment and then said, “I don’t think we need to. With his current state, how weak he is…”

“He’s still got The Infinity Stones,” Sam pointed out. “If he uses them…”

“I don’t think he will,” Bucky said. “I am sure he’s been programmed, but I think if we keep the trigger words away from him, he’ll be okay. Since I’m the only one that knows any of them and that speaks Wakandan, we can be sure they can’t be used.”

Sam frowned at him. “Is this what you really think is true, or are you trying to fix something here?” He gave Stark a pointed glance.

Stark frowned at him and seemed to be awaiting the answer as eagerly as Sam.

"I'm not trying to fix anything," Bucky said honestly. "I know there is no fixing what I did as The Winter Soldier. I am saying it because I believe it. Steve broke through to me, and I think Peter broke through to himself when forced to go against his own moral code. He was overdosed by W'Kebe because he wouldn't defend himself and would have died without The Stones. He was given an order—to comply, kill me and Steve—and he refused it, preparing to put a bullet in his own brain instead. He says he can't die, but can you imagine what a bullet to the head would have done to him? He was prepared to do that, face that pain and suffering, instead of following the order to kill." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I think he's vulnerable, and we need to find a way to remove the power of the words, but I don't think he’s a threat to us. I don’t think he’s a threat to anyone.” 

A heavy silence fell over the room, and then the most unexpected—and oddly pleasing—thing happened. Stark looked him dead in the eye, a weak smile tugging his lips, and said, "Thank you," with palpable gratitude. 

Bucky nodded and said, “I’ll leave you to it, fix some coffee. Tell me if anything changes?” he formed it as a question.

“I will,” Rhodes said, giving him a small nod. “Thank you.”

Bucky glanced at Peter’s almost totally motionless form, just shallow rises and falls of his chest stopping him being perfectly still, and then turned and walked out and back along the hall.

Sam fell into step beside him and said, “I hope you’re right, Bucky, since this could backfire on us in a big way otherwise.”

“I am,” Bucky said. “I’m not saying he’s not been programmed, because he has, but I don’t believe it’s possible for any kind of programming to overpower what that kid is at heart.”

Sam patted his shoulder and said, "Maybe not, but we've got to get the words out of his head, and since the man who helped you is dead, we’re at a disadvantage. Do you remember how he did it for you?”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “I was in and out of awareness as the programming came and went. But we’ll figure it out. We’ve got Tony Stark’s brilliant mind on the case, and all of us are going to help.” He nodded to himself. “The kid will be fine.”

He truly believed it, too. Peter had much more strength than Bucky ever had, and his moral code was obviously much stronger.

The lives Bucky took as The Winter Soldier weren't the first, he'd fought in a war before Hydra got hold of him, whereas Peter was pure, untainted by murder.

He’d be fine.

xXx

There was a bustle of movement at the door, and Tony's gaze snapped from Peter to Helen Cho as she came in, followed by Sam and Barnes, each with their arms full of plastic cases and bags hanging from their wrists.

“Helen,” Tony said, rising to his feet and greeting her with his hand outstretched. “Thank you for coming.”

She shook his hand and said, "Bruce told me it was an emergency." Her eyes moved over Peter's form on the bed, his shrunken body, which was evident even though they'd dressed him in warm and comfortable clothes again. "I see he was right."

She shrugged off her jacket, draped it on a chair, and then approached the bed.

Bruce handed her the stethoscope, and she inserted the earpieces then lifted Peter's t-shirt. She hissed between her teeth as she saw his ravaged chest and stomach and then bent close and listened to his heart. She took off the stethoscope and wrapped it around her neck and then lifted Peter's arm and touched a finger to one of the veins, watched as it collapsed under her touch and then reappeared far too slowly when she lifted her finger. She checked blood flow by pinching his fingertip and watching it pink up again.

“And the reason he’s not in a hospital right now?” she asked, looking to Bruce expectantly.

“He’s in danger,” Bruce said. “He was attacked in Wakanda, and all this is the result of another attack. He was held for three weeks, and we don’t think he was fed at all in that time.”

“Seemingly not.” She took a breath and frowned for a moment. “Okay, I need more of the painkiller serum they made in Wakanda, and I hope you've got an x-ray machine here because this kid needs a central line."

“He’s in pain?” Tony asked, moving back to the bed and placing a hand on Peter’s chest.

Helen gave him an incredulous look. “He has been starved, Tony. Have you ever been so hungry it hurts?"

Tony remembered the cave, the hours he’d spent waiting for food to be brought as his stomach twisted and cramped with hunger pangs. “Yes.”

“Imagine that multiplied by weeks. And the pain from the damage that must have been done to his organs from the starvation… It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

“I didn’t think,” Bruce said, the admission sounding like a curse. He raked a large hand through his hair. “We’ve got a supply of the painkillers, I’ll get them, and we have a portable x-ray.”

Helen nodded. “Get it. I’ll prep.”

She went to a basin and tied back her hair, then scrubbed her hands and snapped on a pair of gloves as Bruce came back with a vial and syringe in his hand. He drew up some of the liquid, held it up, shot out air, and then injected it into Peter's arm. "It'll take a few minutes to work," he said.

“I hope that’s a big dose,” Helen said. “Because we don’t have enhanced lidocaine for the central line, so this is going to hurt.”

“It’s as big as we can risk with the potential liver damage,” Bruce replied.

He walked away and came back with a silver machine on wheels and placed it on the other side of the bed from Tony.

"You're going to need to leave, Tony," Helen said. "We're going to be using an x-ray, and I only have one set of lead coverings. Since Bruce here has already been dosed with more than his fair share of radiation, he's good, but you need to get out." She looked back at Sam and Barnes, where they hovered by the door, and said, "All of you do."

“I’m not leaving,” Tony said firmly.

“Tony…” Bruce started.

Tony held up a hand. “I am not leaving my kid. Do what you’ve got to do with me in here.”

Helen stared at him a moment and then said, “No.”

Tony frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

A steely look came into her eyes. “I’m saying no. If you want me to help your son, you will leave. I am not willing to work if it puts you at risk. Peter is my patient now, and that means I get to decide. You will wait outside with the others while I work."

Tony looked to Bruce for support, anger rising in him. He couldn't leave his son to this alone. He couldn't leave him ever again, not after what had happened to him.

Bruce shook his head. "I'm with Helen on this. I'll stay, take care of him. And it won't take long." He widened his eyes and said, "Trust me to do this, Tony."

Tony glared at him then looked back to Peter, and his eyes softened as a surge of love filled him. "Okay, but I want to know the moment I can come back. And you"—he pointed at Bruce—"will talk to him the whole time. He is not going to be in pain and alone. You make sure he knows you’re here.”

“I will,” Bruce said solemnly.

Tony leaned close to Peter’s ear and said, “I’m going to be close, Pete, but Bruce is going to stay with you for now. I won’t be gone long. Okay?” He stroked Peter’s hair back from his face. “I love you, kid.”

The words said, and the scrutiny of the room on him, he left the room ahead of Sam and Barnes and stopped just outside the door, leaning against the wall, and pressed a hand over his mouth as he exhaled shakily.

He felt like he’d left part of himself in the room, and it pulled at him, drawing him back. It was only the fact that he knew Helen would refuse to help Peter if he was there that held him in place. 

Barnes stayed back, and Sam stood beside him, shoulder brushing against his in a way that Tony thought was probably an attempt to comfort him but failed. He stepped away and started to pace instead.

“He’s going to be okay, Tony,” Sam said. “You know how good Helen is.”

Tony nodded. It wasn’t Peter’s physical health he was worried about for a moment; it was his mind. He couldn't help it with Barnes watching him with those knowing and oddly sad eyes.

He took a breath, stopped, and forced himself to ask the question that had been plaguing  him since Barnes told them what he believed had been done to Peter—what Tony now believed had happened, too. “After Steve broke through to you, when you remembered who you were, how bad was it?”

Barnes stared at him a moment, considering, and then said, “It was bad. But the situations were different. For me, it was about remembering who I’d been and what I’d done. Peter isn’t going to have that guilt dragging him down. You just have to look at him to know he didn’t fight back, so he’s not hurt anyone. That won’t torture him. I…” He looked away, face ashamed. “You know what I did.”

Tony nodded stiffly. “How hard was it to keep the programming at bay?”

“It wasn’t hard until Zemo triggered me. I was in full control of myself until then. And Peter will never be triggered. I am the only one that knows even some of the words, and I swear I will never use them on him." His eyes seemed to implore Tony for something. "I know it goes against everything in you after what I did, but please trust me when I say I would never hurt Peter like that."

Tony ducked his head and said, “I believe you.”

He couldn't say trust because he didn't. Trust was never going to be something he would be able to share with Barnes, not after everything. But he did believe Barnes wouldn't ever do that to Peter.

Barnes seemed to care about Peter, and, as little as Tony wanted to admit it to himself, he wasn't the monster he once was anymore. Barnes wasn't the man that had killed his parents: strangled his mother and beaten his father to death. That was The Winter Soldier. Tony wouldn't ever be able to forgive him for that, but he could rely on him to protect his son from the words that would hurt him.

He paced for what felt like forever before the door swished open, and Bruce peered out, his smile unexpectedly wide. "We're done, and there's something you should see."

Tony rushed past him into the room and went straight to Peter's side. He saw the tubing snaking out from the collar of Peter's t-shirt that was connected to a bag of thick white fluid. That held his attention for a split-second before he saw what had pleased Bruce.

Peter’s eyes were open.

“Pete!” he gasped. “Oh, god, kid. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Peter’s eyes didn’t move from their stare down at his feet, and Tony touched his face, being exceptionally gentle as everything about Peter screamed fragile, and turned it. Peter’s eyes drifted to him, but there didn’t seem to be any awareness in them. He looked right through Tony.

"Pete?" he said, intense worry making its home in his voice. "I'm here." When Peter only blinked and continued to stare through him, Tony turned to Helen, who was standing at the end of the bed, and said, "What's wrong with him?"

“It’s perfectly normal,” she reassured him. “He’s still coming around. He woke up when we were inserting the central line. His GSC is ten, which is a good score, but not perfect.”

“What is perfect?” Tony asked, a bite to his tone.

“Fifteen,” Bruce supplied. “And he’ll get there. He’s reacting to pain, and he’s opening his eyes spontaneously. Once he’s talking and following commands, he’ll be fully back. You just need to give him a little time.”

Feeling only slightly reassured, Tony stroked Peter’s gaunt cheek and said, “Okay, kid, take your time. I’m here. We’re all here. You’re safe now.” He stared into Peter’s eyes, hoping for a reaction but receiving none. “That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.” He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead, his lips feeling the hard lines that should have been softened with flesh. “I’m here.”

“Shall I get Rhodes?” Barnes asked.

Tony nodded without looking at him. "Yes, please. Tell him Peter's awake. Keep the others away, though." He sat down on the chair pulled close to the bed and picked up Peter's hand. "It needs to just be family for a while. Right, Pete? We'll wait till you're ready for more." He gave his bony hand a gentle squeeze. “Only when you’re ready.”

Helen tapped something in on a Stark Pad, and Bruce checked the line in Peter's chest then drifted away. Tony felt a pat on his back, that he guessed was Sam, and then the swish of the door opening and closing as he and Barnes left the room.

Tony fixed his eyes on Peter's blank face and waited for him to come all the way back. He could be patient, he had to be, but he was waiting. He wanted Peter to look at him and know he was there. He wanted to be able to hear his voice and make it right for him.

He wanted to tell Peter he loved him and know he was being heard. 

Chapter Text

3. Catatonic

Rhodey jerked awake on his cot and quickly rolled over to check on Peter. However, where Peter should be lying was an empty bed with rumpled sheets and an IV bag hanging with a disconnected tube from the hook, which meant someone else had been in there to take Peter off his feed without waking him.

He cursed and ran a hand over his face, calling, “Tone?”

There was no answer, and he eased himself to a sitting position and then swung his legs around and got to his feet. It was harder to get off the cot than a high bed with his braces, but he was determined to take his turn on nights with Peter like Tony did, despite his protests. When he was there and not on his visits home to Pepper and Morgan, Tony always wanted to be with Peter, attending to his needs.

Rhodey got to his feet, clinging onto the bedside table to steady himself, and then walked out of the bedroom and through the hall to the living room where he found Wanda curled on a couch with a Stark Pad on her lap and Steve sitting back in an armchair with his eyes focused to the right. By the window, directly in Steve’s line of sight, Peter was standing in front of the large window with his face raised and bathed in light and Bucky standing at his side, his hand on the small of Peter’s back.

“Who did it?” Rhodey asked at once. “Who took him off the bag without telling me?”

Bucky turned. "Me. I could hear him moving around in there and figured it was better to get him off the bag before he started wandering around. You know he doesn't get the idea of bringing the IV stand with him."

Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest and said, “And no one woke me because?”

“You needed sleep,” Wanda said without looking up. “Peter didn’t settle until late, which means you and Tony didn’t settle till late. Tony is still asleep, and you were, too, so we all agreed to leave it that way.”

Rhodey glowered and moved towards Peter.

Bucky turned Peter slowly by steering his shoulder and said, “Hey, look who’s here, bud.”

Rhodey braced himself for what he knew he would see, but he still felt the pang of pain as Peter’s blank eyes stared through him as if he wasn’t there. Bucky's words were not reaching him. No one’s did.

In the three weeks since they’d gotten Peter back, since he’d woken up, there had never been a reaction.

They'd all had hope for the first few hours, and Tony and Rhodey had clung to it for days, but eventually, it became clear that Peter's new state wasn't something that was going to just fix itself. It wasn't a stage of Peter regaining consciousness. It was something far worse than that. Helen and Sam agreed on a diagnosis of Excited Catatonia—though Rhodey thought the name was wrong as Peter was the furthest thing from excited imaginable; though they’d tried to explain the origin of the diagnostic word, he just knew it was wrong.

Peter wandered aimlessly around the base, sometimes coming to a halt where he would stand or sit until they moved him on. He seemed to like the windows, and he would stand by them day and night unless they interrupted him. He didn’t speak or react to them at all.

They were now all experts at reading Peter’s body language to know when he needed the bathroom or was tired. If he started to squirm or move restlessly, they took him to the bathroom and gave him as much privacy as they could manage for a person that needed almost total care. When his blinks became drowsy, they laid him down to sleep.

Rhodey knew Peter would be mortified if he knew what was happening. They tried to keep it to only Rhodey and Tony that took care of his personal needs, but sometimes Steve had to step in and take care of him. Rhodey hoped when Peter came back—and he would come back, he had to—that he wouldn’t remember what had happened to him while he was ‘absent.’

“Has he been to the bathroom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I took him half an hour ago.”

Rhodey nodded and eased Peter away from Bucky and led him to the couch where he steered him to sit down beside Wanda. “There you go, Pete,” he said. “Take the weight off for a while. The window will still be there later.”

Peter settled, plucking at the front of his t-shirt for a moment with his long fingers that had not yet gained any of the weight back, and then dropped them onto his knees with a soft sigh.

He was gaining some of the weight back, but it wasn't spreading evenly. He had a little meat on his chest and stomach, less of a stark hollow beneath his ribs, but his hands and arms, cheeks and jaw, looked as bad as before. Bruce said it was his body putting the weight back where it was needed most, creating some defense for his vital organs from the outside world through body fat. It unnerved Rhodey, though, as his face, which was still as gaunt as ever, was what they saw all the time.

"Hey, Peter," Wanda said, touching his arm. "You want to see this?" She held the Stark Pad in his line of sight and tapped the screen so that a flash of colors began to dance on it as the game began to play.

Sam believed the colors were helpful in connecting to Peter, so they often showed him the tablet with various apps running. There was another that looked like a living aquarium that Steve liked to show him.

They knew nothing for sure, but the fact that Peter liked the windows and sometimes fumbled with his clothes or anything they put in his hands made Sam think he was sometimes in a state of stimulation. He definitely showed a preference for softer things than solid. When they gave him a blanket to touch, he held it longer than the Stark Pad when they had tried to make him engage in the videos alone.  

“Have you tried today, Wanda?” Rhodey asked.

Her face fell, and she lowered the tablet to her lap again. "No, not yet."

“Will you?”

She nodded, but her face was grim.

Rhodey knew this was hard on her, touching Peter’s mind like this, but she was the only one with a chance of telling them what was going on in his head. It was uncomfortable for her to touch a mind that gave nothing back, with no sign of awareness of life, but they needed her insight.

“Please,” he said when she failed to move.

With a grimace, she touched Peter’s chin and turned his face to hers. “This won't hurt, Peter," she reassured him gently.

She placed her hands on either side of his head, and the soft red glow spread from her fingers over Peter's hair, which was in desperate need of shampooing.

Rhodey focused on her face, hoping for some show of surprise or happiness that she’d found something there, but she gave nothing away.

She steered Peter's face back to the side, patted his chest, and said, "All done. Watch this." She started the game again and placed the tablet in Peter’s line of sight. “I’m sorry,” she said into the expectant silence of the room. “There’s still nothing there.”

“You can’t see him at all?” Rhodey asked, even though he’d already asked the question many times before—they all had. 

“No.” She bit her lip. “It’s just light—The Infinity Stones’ colors. He’s hidden behind it.”

Rhodey cursed under his breath. “And we still don’t know if that’s because they’re doing this to him or he’s doing it with them.”

“We don’t,” Steve agreed.

Rhodey raked a hand over his face and perched on the couch on Peter’s other side, his hand settling on Peter’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You want coffee, Rhodey?” Bucky asked.

“Please,” he replied.

Bucky walked out of the room, and Rhodey heard the distant sound of movement in the kitchen, the clatter of metal and scrape of china.

His relationship with Bucky had developed over the past three weeks through Peter. Bucky seemed to like spending time with Peter when he could—which translated to when Tony wasn’t there.

When Tony was there and awake, not on the phone to Pepper and Morgan, he was with Peter. He wasn’t always focused on him, often in conversation about Peter’s condition with Sam, Helen, and Bruce, or he was looking up therapies that might help Peter, but he was always close to him. Even Rhodey sometimes had trouble getting close when Tony was in one of his defensive moods, wanting to be the one that met each and every one of Peter’s needs.

Bucky came back with a large mug of coffee which Rhodey took and thanked him for, and then took a sip and said, “So, Pete, you up to getting a shower today?”

Peter made no response, but Steve raised an eyebrow, and Wanda and Bucky looked at him.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Steve asked.

“No,” he admitted, tousling Peter’s hair, a finger tangling in the matted strands “But we’re not going to have a choice much longer unless we want to shave his head. And he’s pretty calm right now.”

Peter became distressed when they’d cleaned him up with washcloths, not seeming to like the sensation of water trickling over him. But his hair was in a terrible state now. It needed to be shampooed and untangled before it was beyond their help.     

He finished his coffee, then nodded swiftly and said, “Come on, Pete, let’s clean you up.”

He stood and eased Peter to stand beside him, then guided him into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed while he took off Peter's t-shirt and placed a waterproof dressing over the central line port on his collarbone to protect it from the water. He then went into the bathroom and started the shower running at a gentle, warm flow in hopes that would make it a little easier for Peter to handle. He got the supplies ready on the shelf, shampoo, conditioner, and a wide-tooth comb. Then, he went back to Peter, who was staring at the opposite wall.

“Okay, kid, you ready?” he asked.

He took off Peter’s socks and then stood him up and tugged down his sweatpants, lifting one foot at a time until Peter was ready to bathe. Then he led him into the bathroom and spoke reassuringly as he guided him under the shower-head.

“Okay, Pete, it’s not too hot, and I’ll be as quick as I can. We’re just going to fix your hair. You’ll feel much better when it’s done. That’s it, nice and easy.”

Peter moved willingly, and then, when the water touched his face and dripped down his neck, he jerked as if electrocuted and made an inarticulate sound of distress.

“Easy, Pete!” Rhodey said quickly. “You’re okay.”

Peter’s hand slammed into Rhodey’s chest, throwing him backwards so that he flew six feet and slammed into the wall. His head bounced off the tile, and he crumpled to the side with a gasp and groan as his head exploded with pain.

He landed hard on the floor, his eyes catching Peter running from the room, moving faster than Rhodey had seen him move in weeks, and then they darkened, and consciousness deserted him. He slumped boneless to the floor, out before his last thought was completed.

This was a bad id—

xXx

Tony woke to a strange sound, like a cry of pain, and he jerked upright, trying to make sense of what he'd heard. Then there was a crash, and he leaped out of bed and ran into the hall to meet Steve and Barnes, who were on their way into Peter’s bedroom.

“What the hell’s going on?” he shouted.

Neither of them answered, pushing past Tony and into the bedroom, and Tony followed at a run.

“Rhodey!” Steve said with a gasp from the bathroom, and Barnes cursed.

Tony rushed into the bathroom and saw his best friend crumpled on the ground, a small pool of blood under his head, and his face slack with unconsciousness.

Steve squatted beside him, pressed his fingers to his throat, nodded, and gave his shoulder a small shake. "Rhodey, wake up now," he coaxed over the sounds of the running shower. "Come on."

“Where’s Peter?” Barnes asked, shutting off the water.

Tony cursed and ran out of the bathroom, calling to his son.

His eyes roved the room and found Peter, naked and curled in a ball in the corner. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and his hands tangled in his hair, his head bowed. He wasn't making a sound, but he was shaking hard enough for his back to rattle against the wall.

“Pete,” he said gently. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He approached him slowly, hands raised and voice soft as he made reassurances, until he was right in front of him. He grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and placed it over Peter to give him some semblance of privacy, and then knelt and touched Peter’s shaking hand.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “You’re okay.”

He didn't know what had happened for sure, but he surmised it was something to do with the shower. Had Rhodey tried to get Peter in there? Peter's agitated reactions to water so far made that an obviously bad idea, and he didn't think Rhodey would be stupid enough. However, there was no other good explanation for the fact Peter was naked and wet and Rhodey unconscious.

“Steve, how is he?” he called over his shoulder.

“He’s okay,” Barnes said, coming up behind him. “Bruce is coming to check him out. How’s Peter?”

“See for yourself,” Tony said, waving a hand at his distressed son. “What was Rhodey thinking?”

“He was worried about Peter’s hair,” Barnes said. “I guess he thought he’d be able to clean him up without too much of a problem. Obviously, that didn’t work out.”

“Obviously,” Tony growled. 

Tony heard Bruce's voice passing them and then talking to Rhodey and a groan in response.

“Peter…” Rhodey said vaguely.

“He’s fine,” Steve said. “Tony’s with him.”

“How about you?” Bruce asked. “You’ve got a laceration which is probably going to need a couple stitches. Any dizziness or nausea?”

“Peter…” Rhodey said again. “Where’s…” His words became garbled and weak.

“Sounds like a concussion," Bruce said. "Okay, Rhodey. We're going to need to get you checked out properly at a hospital since we don’t have all the radiology here that we’ll need. Can you walk?”

“Tony… made braces…” Rhodey replied weakly.

Tony's heart skipped with worry, and he called, "Bruce, is he going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Bruce replied. “His pupils are good, and the lac is small. I want him to get a CT, though. We'll get him checked out in the hospital. How’s Peter?”

The word traumatized was on the tip of Tony’s tongue, but, as angry as he was at his friend for doing this to his kid, he couldn’t attack him while he was hurt. He’d make sure Rhodey was okay first, get his head stitched up and checked out, and then he’d ream him out for being so damn stupid.

“He’s going to be okay, too,” he said instead.

He watched as Bruce guided Rhodey out of the bathroom, Rhodey stopping and looking at Peter, face stricken as the kid shuddered and shook, and then reluctantly moved on with Steve’s arm around his back and Bruce following him.

When he was gone, Tony turned his attention to Peter. He carefully untangled his hands from his hair and held them. Peter’s fingers tightened on his in response, but no connection showed in his wide and reddened eyes, which stared through him.

“Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” Tony got to his feet and eased Peter up by the elbows. “Up you come.”

“Can I help?” Barnes asked behind them.

“Yeah, can you get him some clothes,” Tony said. “They’re all in the dresser. Make sure they’re easy to get on and off. And a towel." He turned his attention back to Peter, whose shaking was easing, but his breaths were still coming quick. "Sit down, Pete."

Barnes brought a thick fluffy towel that Tony used to dry Peter’s face with gentle pats, and then he came back with a pair of grey sweats and a blue hoodie. Tony dressed Peter, speaking quietly and calmly to him as he manipulated his limbs into the clothes. He was reassured when Peter's shaking eventually stopped and his breaths calmed.

“You want to lie down again, Pete?” he asked when Peter was clothed and standing with his hands clenching and relaxing. “We can get you hooked up again, too.”

Though there was no reaction, Tony pulled back the bedding and eased Peter to sit and then lie down, head on the pillows. He peeled off the dressing Rhodey had evidently placed over Peter's port for the aborted shower and then hooked up the still half-full bag of TPN.

Barnes cleared his throat behind him, and Tony turned to see him holding out a fluffy blue throw pillow.

“I thought he might like to hold this,” Barnes said, laying the throw pillow beside Peter and placing his hand on it. At once, Peter's fingers began to run over the fluffy fabric, and the deep frown lines on his brow smoothed a little. 

“Thanks,” Tony said. “That was a good idea.” He stroked Peter’s cheek. “That feel good, Pete?”

Peter didn't respond, but Tony smiled as his pale fingers ran over the pillow, fingernails, which needed to be trimmed, making scratching sounds.

“No problem,” Barnes said, sounding pleased.

Tony realized this was the first time the two of them had been alone together, with Peter, since the hospital bedside vigil after W’Kebe’s attack in Wakanda. The difference in the feeling of the room since then was huge.

Tony had been so angry back then, worried about Peter and in no mood to talk to Barnes, but he didn’t feel that way now. He was grudgingly grateful that Barnes had thought to bring Peter something to touch like this, something that could comfort him, maybe.

“You need anything?” Barnes asked. “Coffee?”

Tony was going to say no, to dismiss him as he usually did, but something stopped him, perhaps the good feeling in the room that Peter might be absorbing, too. “Yeah, a coffee would be great. Make it a big one. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need the caffeine today. I take it…”

“Black no sugar,” Barnes said, then, in response to Tony’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “I pay attention. I’ll be right back.”

Tony watched him go and then turned his attention back to Peter, who was still frowning slightly as his fingers moved restlessly over the pillow. Tony touched it, too, letting his fingers stroke the soft fabric, and wondered how it felt to Peter. It was nice enough, not something he'd ever really paid attention to before, but what did it mean to Peter? Was it the only sensation he could feel now? Was it the extent of his awareness, that touch?

Unthinkingly, Tony's fingers moved from the pillow to Peter's face. He traced over his lips, which were now healed from the dry and cracked ridges they'd been from dehydration before, across his hollow cheek and up under his eyes, tracing the light shadows that lay below his rainbow irises which showed no awareness.

“Does that feel good, too, Pete?” he asked. “Can you feel me?” When there was no response, he sighed and nodded. “No need to talk until you’re ready, kid. You take as long as you need.”

He got to his feet and stretched. He was still in his sweats and the old Led Zeppelin tour shirt he’d slept in, but he didn’t care enough to leave Peter to go clean himself up and get dressed.

There was a time, not even that long ago, in which he would allow no one outside his family to see him like this, ungroomed, but he didn’t care about that stuff anymore. His son didn’t care what he wore, didn’t even see it, and everyone else could take him or leave him. 

He rounded the bed and settled beside Peter, lifting him so that he was resting against his side, his head pillowed on Tony’s chest. He grabbed the pillow, but before he could get it back under Peter's hands, his fingers had found the soft fabric of Tony's t-shirt. It felt strange, Peter’s light touches through the fabric against his skin, but also good. It was like Peter was connecting with him, even though he knew, logically, he wasn’t. 

Barnes came back into the room with a Thermos mug of coffee and a plate of danishes. “I baked this morning,” he explained. “Figured you’d be hungry, too.”

“I am,” Tony said, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you.”

He took the plate and set it on his lap, then flipped up the lid of his Thermos and sipped the coffee, which was perfectly brewed.

“You look like you’re going to be there a while,” Barnes said, eyeing Peter nestled on his chest.

"At least long enough to finish the bag we've got going in." He patted Peter's back, feeling the pearls of his spine against his palm. "He needs all the calories he can get. But we're comfy, aren't we, Pete?" He rested his cheek against Peter's hair. "We're good here."

Barnes nodded. "I'll leave you to it then. Shout if you need anything, or, you know… tell your genius AI, and she'll tell us."

Tony huffed a reluctant laugh. “I will. Thank you.”

Barnes looked at Peter a moment, softness in his eyes, and then turned to leave.

“Barnes,” Tony called after him.

Barnes stopped at the door and looked back. “Yeah.”

“Tell me as soon as you hear anything about Rhodey, okay?”

“Of course.” He smiled slightly and then continued out of the room.

Tony held Peter a little closer and said, "You know, kid, if you were up to talking right now, you could help me out with a little something. I just had a perfectly civil conversation with the man that…" He shook his head. "You know what, you don't need to hear it. Suffice to say, your old man has got some pretty tangled thoughts right now and could use some wisdom." He kissed Peter's temple. "I'll wait till you're ready, though."

After all, he had no choice but to wait. 

Chapter Text

“Okay, we’re going through,” Steve warned. “Brace yourself.”

Rhodey planted his hands on his knees as Steve drove the car into the rippling air that led them to the base. There was the disconcerting sensation of turbulence, and then they were through the other side, out of the lake and on the parking lot.

Steve pulled them to a stop and climbed out. Rhodey stayed in his seat, staring down at his lap, until Steve had rounded the car and opened his door, leaning in.

“Come on. You can’t stay in there forever. Don’t you want to see Queens?”

Rhodey turned to him, and his brown eyes were pained. "I really screwed up, Steve. I scared  him."

“You did,” Steve agreed. “But you didn’t do it on purpose. Sure, I thought it was a bad idea, but I didn’t know it would be that bad; no one did. Now you’ve got to face him, see he’s okay.”

“If he is okay,” Rhodey said pointedly, guilt creating grooves at the corners of his mouth.

“You know he is,” Steve reminded him. “Bruce said he was fine. He spent the morning with Tony getting the rest of his feed and resting. He's probably having a wander now. Come on." When Rhodey failed to move, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, and said, "You're War Machine—suit up and face it.”

Rhodey huffed a laugh. “Being War Machine is easier. Thanos was easier than this.” He turned in his seat, climbed out, movements careful as he maneuvered in the braces, and then followed Steve to the door.

Steve took the lead inside and through into the living area, where he stopped as he took in the scene.

Peter was sitting on the couch, the tablet held in front of him by Tony and the game’s colored light dancing over his face as his eyes stared through them. Tony was beside him, close enough that their hips touched, and Wanda was sitting on the back of the couch behind Peter. Her deft fingers were moving through his hair, and there was a comb beside her and a bottle of some kind of gel that she was massaging into the lengths of his locks. Peter's hair was markedly different than it had been when they left; the matted tangles were almost completely smoothed and damp with what he supposed was the gel.

“Okay, Peter,” Wanda said. “A little more.”

She squeezed some of the gel onto her hands and then began to massage it into his scalp. Peter's eyes closed, and Steve thought, or perhaps only hoped, that Peter's lips twitched with a smile.

“Wow,” Steve said.

Wanda looked over her shoulder and grinned. “It’s salon day.”

“I can see.”

He looked at Bucky, Sam, and Bruce, sitting on the other couch, their eyes all on Peter and Wanda and smiles on their faces. 

Steve stepped further into the room, and Rhodey came in behind him. Steve pointed to the seat beside Bucky and said, "Remember what the doctor said: sit, rest, but don't sleep."

Rhodey nodded, moved to the couch, and sat down, his eyes moving between Peter and Tony with a wary look on his face.

Steve perched on the side of the couch beside Tony, shifting a little as he felt the tension in the room develop. Peter’s hands twitched in his lap and began to squeeze his legs hard.

“No, Pete,” Tony said gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

He unclenched Peter’s hands and held them in his own. Peter’s grip tightened enough that the tips of Tony’s fingers turned white, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just looked at Peter with the love that always seemed to shine in his eyes when he was with the kid now. 

“How are you feeling, Rhodey?” Bruce asked solicitously.

Rhodey ran a hand over his brow and said, “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve sighed. “He’s got a concussion, three stitches in the back of his scalp, and we’ve got to monitor him for forty-eight hours.”

Rhodey shot him a scowl and then looked at Tony and licked his lips. “Tone… I’m sorry.”

Tony looked from Peter to him. “You’re okay?”

“I am,” Rhodey assured him. “Nothing to worry about on the scans.”

Tony nodded and said, “Good. Then you’re apologizing to the wrong person.”

Rhodey winced and fixed his eyes on Peter. “Pete, I’m so sorry. I really messed up.”

Peter gave no reaction other than to release Tony’s hand. Tony flexed his fingers as the blood rushed through them again and then placed them on his lap.

“What happened?” Bruce asked. “Obviously, you had him in the shower, but how did you end up unconscious?”

The corners of Rhodey's lips turned down. "It was water. He was fine until it touched his head, and then he just…" He flinched. “He freaked out and threw me back. What happened to him after, I don’t really remember much?”

Tony didn't seem to be hearing him. There was a distant look in his eyes, and his lips were parted.

“He was scared,” Steve said, remembering the glimpse of Peter curled in the corner he’d got before rushing to Rhodey’s aid.

"Water," Tony said, and then his voice became a growl. "It was water!”

Bruce frowned. “Well, we know he has an awareness of sensation, so maybe it startled him.”

Tony shook his head jerkily and turned to Peter, his fingers stroking from Peter’s forehead, under his eyes, across his lips, which twitched, and down to his collarbone. "They didn't just starve him."

“No,” Sam said carefully. “But we know that. They programmed him.”

Tony shook his head again, his eyes darkening as they moved from Peter to his lap, and he spoke between his teeth. “They wanted something from him, the way The Ten Rings wanted something from me.” He drew a shaky breath. “Back in Afghanistan, when they were trying to get me to make the Jericho Missile for them, they tried to persuade me with water torture.” He wiped a hand over his mouth and pressed it to his chest. “They’d hold my head in the water until I thought I was going to drown, bringing me up at the very last minute to get a gulp of air, and then do it again.”

Rhodey paled, and the room seemed to be filled with an electric charge. Wanda's hands stilled on Peter's hair.

“You never told me they did that to you,” Rhodey said quietly.

“Why would I tell anyone?” Tony asked, sounding genuinely bewildered. “It wasn’t exactly one of my greatest hits. But after…” he looked back to Peter, his wan face twisting with pain, “it took me a while to handle the shower, too. They must have…" He turned Peter's face and cupped it in his hands, which trembled. "Did they do that to you, Pete?"

There was a moment in which Tony stared desperately into Peter's eyes, seeming to be begging for a reaction. His thumbs stroked Peter's cheeks, then he released him and pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes as if driving back tears.

“No more showers,” Sam stated. “We’ve got to be very careful.”

“Should I stop…” Wanda started, hands lifting from Peter’s scalp.

“No,” Sam said. “That doesn’t seem too much for him. I think he might even like it."

Wanda placed her fingers in Peter’s now untangled hair, and she began to massage his scalp again. 

“Buck,” Steve said cautiously. “Did they do that to you, too?”

Bucky didn’t answer, his eyes on Peter, whose fingers were moving on his lap. He stood up and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over Peter and Tony's laps, then lifted Peter's hands so that they were resting on it. At once, Peter’s restless movements became closer to stroking motions.

Tony gave Bucky a small smile and murmured his thanks, taking Steve entirely off guard. He'd thought, or perhaps just hoped, that there was a slight shift in the tension between his two friends, but this was more than he’d seen so far.

"No," Bucky said finally, falling back into his seat and running a hand through his hair. "It was different for me, though. They needed to lock me down hard because I resisted from the very beginning. From the moment I woke up there, my arm gone and the pain unimaginable, I fought to get away. We don't think Peter fought them. It might have been something Thuri used for the programming. I don’t know. There was no need for it.”

“Or it was Ross,” Rhodey said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. “He just wanted to hurt him.” He squeezed his eyes closed and said, “God, I’m so sorry, Pete. I can’t believe I…”

“You didn’t know,” Sam reminded him. “None of us did, but we know now. We’ll be even more careful with him—keep it to damp washcloths.”

Rhodey nodded, his eyes fixed on Peter, whose eyes were drifting shut. Steve thought, with a thrill in his stomach, that it was what Wanda was doing, relaxing him, and then his head tilted down, and his lips parted with a soft breath. Either because of Wanda’s calming ministrations or because of tiredness, he’d fallen asleep.

Tony looked at him a moment and then smiled. “You’ve got the magic touch, Wanda. He’s out.”

Wanda's hands dropped to her lap, and she said, "Good. His hair is done. It won't look great, but it won't be tangled anymore." She patted the long strands and said, "It needs a trim, though."

"Tell me about it," Tony said with a laugh. "I told him that all the time, little mop-head. He's not vain, but you mess his hair up, he does this little…" He wiggled his fingers over his head and made a face, lips pouted and brows scrunched. "His aunt did it to him all the time.” He grinned. “So did I sometimes.”

Steve smiled. “I’ll test that out when he’s back with us.”

He said it with certainty, no doubt in his tone, because that was what they all needed to hear. He wasn’t wholly confident Peter would snap out of this, though, and that scared him. The idea of Peter spending even another week like this was awful, but there was a bigger issue none of them were talking about—Peter was now immortal. This could be his existence until the end of time, never connecting with another person again. Who would care for him when they were all gone?

And what would happen if his programming was triggered again? None of them had mentioned it, but it was a risk if Ross got to him again.

He gave his head a brisk shake and said, “Should we move him to his bed?”

Tony considered and then shook his head. “No, we can make him comfortable here. Helen is due in an hour anyway, so he’ll have to get up again. We can hook him up to another bag while he’s lying still, though."

“Good idea,” Bruce said. “I’ll get it.”

He got to his feet and walked out of the room, and Tony shifted along the couch and then eased Peter down so that his head was resting on his lap. Wanda climbed off the back of the couch and lifted Peter's feet, so that he was stretched out, then covered him with the blanket.  

Tony placed one hand on Peter's back, and the other smoothed his hair and settled on his cheek.

Steve watched Tony, wondering if he was even aware of how different his interactions with Peter were now. Though it was always obvious to them all how much he loved Peter, he hadn’t been as tactile with him before. Now, though, it was as if he couldn’t resist touching him, taking and giving comfort.

If—no when, it had to be when—Peter came back to them, Steve hoped it continued, as he thought Peter was going to need it.

xXx

“You want to do what?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Place a feeding tube," Helen said patiently. "His stomach has had time to recover, and he needs to get used to proper nutrition again. He cannot take it orally, so we will feed it directly into his stomach.”

Tony looked at Peter, who was lying on the med-bay cot. He was shirtless from Helen’s examination, thin and pale, but with more meat on his bones than before. “No.”

“Why not?” Helen asked.

“Because…” He cut a hand through the air. “Just no!”

Tony could feel Rhodey's confused eyes on him and knew he wanted answers, but he wasn't giving them up.

He knew what a feeding tube felt like, at least what it felt like when it was being ripped out of his stomach and up his throat. He wasn't letting Peter go through that. Which he might. What if his restless fingers tugged on it? They weren’t watching him all the time. Tony and Rhodey took turns sleeping in Peter’s room at night—though Rhodey was going to need a few nights off to recover from his concussion—but they slept, too. Just because Peter tolerated the central line, it didn’t mean he’d be able to bear a tube going up his nose and down his throat.

“He needs this,” Helen said.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s not having it. He’s gaining weight on the TPN bags.”

“Not enough,” she argued. “His body needs more. and his digestive system needs to begin working properly again.”

“He goes to the bathroom,” Rhodey said, brow furrowed.

“Yes,” she said patiently. “But you and I both know it’s not as it should be.”

That was true, and Tony supposed they did need to help his body get used to working right again, but the thought of a feeding tube seemed too much.

Perhaps it was illogical, and Peter had definitely been through worse, but Tony didn’t want them to share that experience as well as water torture.

Helen sighed. “Okay, then he’ll need a PEG feed.”

“What’s that?” Rhodey asked.

“A percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy. It’s a more invasive procedure than a nasal feeding tube, a small surgery, but we can do it with local anesthetic and conscious sedation. I'll have to bring more equipment, and someone needs to either create lidocaine and benzodiazepines that will work on him or collect some from Wakanda. The feedings will be easier on Peter, though. He will not have to be attached to the tube for nearly as long. It’ll just take twenty minutes or so every few hours. The rest of the time, he won't need to be attached to anything."

“Then we do that,” Tony said. “Get what you need. I’ll call T’Challa for the drugs.”

He pulled out his phone, but Helen caught his hand and said, “I don’t know why you’re resistant about this, Tony, but I think it’s personal to you. Don’t project your own experiences and fears onto Peter; it might limit his recovery.”

Tony scowled. “I won’t do anything to limit him, ever. He’s my kid. I just don’t want him to be hurt again. I am doing everything I can for his recovery.”

He pulled his hand free and dialed T’Challa’s number, but Rhodey plucked the phone from his hand this time and said, "I'll make the call. You take care of Pete."

“Thanks,” Tony muttered and picked up Peter’s hoodie from the end of the bed. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you dressed again.”

He eased Peter upright and dressed him, Peter’s limbs moving obligingly but with no effort on his part to help. When he was done, Tony adjusted the hoodie on his shoulders and helped him stand from the cot and led him out and through to the living room by the hand.

“Do you want to sit, Pete?” he asked.

Peter walked away from him to the window, his hand pulling free, and he stood with his face raised.

Barnes, who had been sitting on the couch and reading something on a tablet, frowned and said, "I've got an idea. Can I try something?"

Tony frowned. “That depends. What’s your idea?”

Barnes got to his feet and said, “Let’s take him outside. He’s been inside ever since he got back, but he likes the windows. I think there’s something out there. I’d like to try… Can I?”

Tony nodded his agreement, wondering what Barnes was thinking. They’d not taken Peter outside at all, but maybe it would be good for him. If nothing else, he’d get some fresh air.

He looked down at the slippers Peter was wearing, decided the rubber soles were good enough for the even ground, and took Peter’s hand. “Let’s go, kid. We're going to get some air."

Barnes held the door open to him, and Tony passed through, guiding Peter at his side, then through the main doors into the afternoon sun.

A light breeze moved Peter's hair, and his lips parted as if he was tasting the air. Tony stared at him, looking for awareness in his eyes, but none came.

“Can I?” Barnes asked, holding a hand towards Peter.

“Sure,” Tony said, only a little dubiously.

Barnes took Peter’s hand and led him towards the lake, onto the pebble shore. He brought him to a stop a few feet from the reach of the water and tilted his head down slightly, so Peter's gaze was on the lake, the sun dancing on the rippling  water.

“Yes!” Barnes hissed after a moment. “He is!”

Tony rushed towards them, heart racing, and quickly looked at Peter. His breaths caught when he saw a trace of something more in his rainbow eyes. Perhaps he imagined it, was just seeing what he wanted, but Peter’s gaze seemed focused for once.

“It’s the water,” Barnes said happily. “He’s been looking for the water.”

Tony gasped and placed a hand on his chest, right over his racing heart. "His eyesight is out of this world. He once told me it was dialed up to eleven. He sees it.” He looked hopefully at Barnes. “He does, right? He actually sees it?”

Barnes nodded eagerly. “Yes, I think so. He seems to anyway. It’s like he’s really looking at it. He liked it before, too, didn’t he? He’d sit out here.”

“He would. God, I didn’t even think— Thank you,” he said fervently. “Seriously, thank you. If you’d not seen this, what we all missed, we’d never have known.”

Barnes looked inordinately pleased, and he grinned and said, “I’m glad I saw it.” He took Peter’s arm and guided him to a rock, pushed him gently until Peter sat down, and then sat beside him, his shoulder pressed to Peter’s.

Tony stared for a moment, seeing the easy way the man that he'd once hated interacted with his son, and he realized he liked it. It shouldn't feel good, he shouldn't trust Barnes with Peter, and he shouldn't want this closeness when he selfishly resented needing anyone's help to care for Peter at all, but he did. It felt like there was another line of defense and support for Peter now, and he wanted that desperately. Anything that could help, no matter who it came from, was worth cherishing.

He gazed at Peter as he watched the light ripple on the lake and then perched on the rock on his other side.

He picked up Peter’s hand and said, “You should say thanks, Pete. Barnes worked something out that your dear old dad was too slow to see. You get yard time now.” He bumped Peter’s shoulder. “That’s good, right?”

“It is,” Barnes said when Peter gave no response. “He’s…” he hesitated and then said, “Tony, he’s connecting to something. We just have to wait for it to be one of us.”

Tony gave him a nod and smile.

He would wait with hope now. One day, Peter would look at him with awareness in his eyes, he believed, and Barnes was the one to give that hope to him.

That was a gift he couldn’t put into words, so he merely said, “Thanks, Bucky,” and ignored the soft gasp that came from the object of his remark.

Things were changing, Barnes was becoming Bucky instead of the enemy, and it was for and through Peter.

Even locked away from them all, the kid was changing lives.

Chapter Text

Rhodey checked the time and then glanced at Tony, who was busy scrolling on his tablet with a furrowed brow. He looked immersed in what he was doing, so it was probably important, but Peter was due a feed. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Tone, shall I give Peter his brunch?”

Tony looked up, his eyes vague. “What?”

“Peter,” Rhodey said. “He needs a feed. Shall I do it?”

Tony looked torn. His eyes moved between the tablet and Peter's face, which was tilted right, towards the window. Rhodey thought he could guess the battle being waged in his best friend. Since the incident a week ago, in which he’d been hurt and Peter traumatized, Tony had been reluctant to let Rhodey take care of Peter. He’d insisted on taking the nights in his room and did most other things himself—not going home for overnight stays anymore, visiting from breakfast till bedtime instead and leaving Steve and Bucky to take care of Peter.

Rhodey understood it, would probably feel the same if the situations were reversed, but he hoped it would end soon as he hated not being able to help Peter when he needed it. He wanted to do his bit, spend time with him without being watched.

“Yeah,” Tony said slowly. “If you can. Pep sent me some contracts to look over for Connections Corp, and I’ve only got a few more minutes until she’s going to call to go over them with me.”

Rhodey smiled and got to his feet. “Yeah, I can, no problem.” He eased Peter up beside him and said, “Time for brunch, Pete.”

Peter followed him obligingly into the bedroom, where they'd been giving him his feeds to provide him with some privacy. It wasn't invasive exactly, but it was still personal, and none of them would want a room of witnesses to them being fed through a tube in their stomach, and they had no reason to believe Peter would either.

“You need some help?” Bucky asked from the door. 

Rhodey looked around and said, “Yeah, thanks. If you can sit with him, I’ll get the stuff.”

Bucky came into the room and sat beside Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You want to get outside when this is done, bud? We can look at the lake for a while.” Though Peter gave no reaction, Bucky answered if he had. “Yeah, thought you would.”

Rhodey left the room and went into the kitchen to fetch the bag of liquid feed from the fridge. He measured out the amount and carried it back into the bedroom, where Bucky was engaged in a story about his youth in Queens.

“And there was Steve, all 5’ 4” of him facing off against this guy that had to be 6’ 6”, fists like hams, and the kid was grinning like he was at a carnival. I swear, it was like he liked getting punched.”

Rhodey smiled slightly. He’d noticed after his concussion that Bucky was spending time together with Peter and Tony, more than anyone Tony usually liked to be near them. He’d even heard Tony call him Bucky instead of Barnes, which had shocked him. Whatever had happened when they’d gone outside with Peter that day, it had shifted something between them in a positive way.

Rhodey wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Tony making a friend, he wasn’t a preschooler, but Bucky now seemed to have more of Tony’s trust than he himself had when it came to Peter, and that felt wrong.

From the beginning, that first semester at MIT, it had been him and Tony against the world. He was the one that was trusted, and Bucky had been the enemy. Rhodey wasn’t the enemy now, he knew that, but he wasn’t what he used to be. He'd been developing a better relationship with Bucky before the incident, but that hadn't developed as much in the past week. That was maybe because Rhodey had still been a little withdrawn in his regret and guilt for what he had done.

He laid the supplies on the bed, attached the tube and syringe to the port, then poured the feed into the syringe and held it up so gravity would help drain it down.

“Feel good?” he asked Peter.

Bucky brushed Peter’s hair back and said, “I don’t know how it feels, but it’s doing the job. This combination Cho came up with is piling on the pounds, right, bud? You’re looking better every day.”

That was overstating it a little, but Peter was gaining weight faster than he had been on TPN feeds. His cheeks were starting to fill out a little, and his arms were no longer the matchsticks they'd been before. Peter had more energy, too. He didn't fall asleep so often in the day and was in motion more. For whatever reason Tony didn't want a nasal feeding tube to be placed, and Rhodey still didn’t know why that was, the PEG feeds were working out well.

Peter’s fingers ran over his lap, nails scratching the soft fabric of his sweats, and Bucky picked up his hand and said, “You know, bud, unless we do something about these nails soon, Wanda’s next salon day is going to be a manicure and polish. Shall I trim them for you?”

Rhodey looked at him. “You think he can take it?”

Bucky frowned a moment and then said, “I think so. There’s no connection to water or what they did to him there—the fact they’re growing into talons proves that. I’ll get the gear.”

He set Peter’s hand down on his lap again and then left the room.

“So… uh… a manicure, Pete,” Rhodey said awkwardly.

Peter blinked slowly and sighed.

"You not keen?" Rhodey asked, though the sigh could have just been a heavy breath. They were always looking for more in whatever Peter gave them. "If you don't want it, you only have to say.”

Bucky came back into the room, frowning, and said, "You don't think it's a good idea?" When Rhodey looked blank, he smiled. "Super hearing—I don't miss much."

Rhodey shook his head and said, “You know, it’s kinda intimidating being surrounded by enhanced people all the time.” He lifted the syringe a little higher to speed the flow and said, “Superheroes are hard to live with.”

Bucky frowned. “But you’re a superhero, too. You’re an Avenger.”

“I’m a man in a suit,” Rhodey argued.

“So is Tony, and he’s a hero,” Bucky pointed out. “He’s not enhanced either, neither is Sam. I think you guys are the ones that are the most impressive since you do it all without our bonuses. The risk is greater for you, so that makes you braver." He nudged Peter's shoulder. "Isn't that right, bud? You and me have the super healing to take the edge off.”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Rhodey agreed quietly.

Bucky placed a towel over Peter’s lap and then picked up his right hand. With his eyes darting between Peter’s face and thumb, he snipped at the long nail. When Peter made no response, he smiled and said, “That’s it, bud. It’ll feel better after.”

Rhodey watched him as he trimmed Peter’s nails, conscious of any reaction or anxiety that Peter might show, but there was nothing at all. He didn’t even seem to notice it happening.

Rhodey sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the snips of the nail clippers and their breathing, and then Bucky started talking, telling Peter about the geese he’d seen on the lake the day before and his theory that they might see more if they could scavenge some bread from the kitchen. 

“You’re really good with him, you know,” Rhodey said.

Bucky looked surprised. “I am?”

“Yes. Did you ever have something like this in your life before, someone that was hurt?”

Bucky blew out a heavy breath and then switched hands, snipping at Peter’s other thumb. “No, but I guess I feel I can relate to Peter. We don’t know what’s going on in his head, what he’s aware of and what he’s not, but I think maybe he’s trapped in there. I know what it feels like to be trapped.”

“You mean when you were the Winter Soldier?” Rhodey asked. He was surprised as he’d not thought it worked like that. He’d thought Bucky was programmed and cared about nothing.

“No. That was different. When I was in Wakanda, when… they were helping me get my mind back.”—the hesitation was the name he was unwilling to say, Rhodey thought, the name of the man that had done this to Peter—"I would slip in and out. I would be the Winter Soldier, compliant and ready to serve, and then I would slip back into James Bucky Barnes, the soldier and friend, but sometimes I’d be between the two, and that was worse.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rhodey said. “I had no idea what happened there.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve not talked about it with anyone apart from Steve. There were times when I felt trapped there, and I think that’s how Peter feels now. For me, having people talking to me, giving me things to soothe me the way we think he likes blankets and pillows, would have been good. It wasn’t like that, though. I was a mission, a task for him, and I was basically alone in it.”

Bucky snipped the nail of Peter’s left pinky and then dropped the clippers onto the bed, folded the towel, carried it to the wastepaper basket, and tipped away the crescent clippings. 

Though he couldn’t ask without Peter hearing, Rhodey wondered if that was going to be the same for Peter. They had to get the programming out of his head. Bucky was the only one of them that knew the words to trigger him, but Ross had to know them, too. If he got near Peter, he could use them. Peter had beaten them once, they believed, but he might not be able to do it again. They had to find a way, but the man that had removed Bucky’s programming was dead.

Rhodey had no idea how they were going to save Peter from that.

xXx

Tony rolled over on the cot and looked at Peter, who was lying on his side, positioned as Tony had settled him an hour ago. His fingers were moving against the comforter Tony had pulled to his chin, but his eyes were wide open.

"Can't sleep, Pete?" he said. "You hungry, maybe?"

Peter blinked and resumed his stare through Tony.

"No, me neither," Tony said, sitting up and swinging his legs around so that his feet were planted on the carpet.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It wasn’t the fact Peter was awake that was keeping him up late, not really. He knew Peter sometimes woke in the night when he slept as Friday always gave him a report in the morning of how his night had passed.

There was no real problem with Peter being awake as Friday would alert them if he got out of bed. He was as safe as he could be. In fact, the only reason Tony spent the nights on the uncomfortable cot beside Peter’s bed now was for his own peace of mind.

He got to his feet and went to the bed to ease Peter onto his other side so he could get in next to him and settle him against his chest.

“Your old man’s going to have to go away again for a while tomorrow, Pete,” he said, stroking over Peter’s back, noting that his spine was slightly less prominent against his fingers now. "I need to spend some real time with Morgan and Pepper. Rhodey, Bucky, and Steve will be here, though, and they'll take care of you. And I won't be gone long. A couple days tops. You think you'll be okay?"

He ducked his head down to see that Peter's eyes had fallen closed, and his breaths were now the measured sighs of sleep. 

He chuckled. “I got it—you just needed a little extra comfort to help you nod off. Happy to oblige.”

In truth, he was more than just happy. He loved that he could help Peter like this. At least he thought he was helping. It was just as likely that Peter had fallen asleep then because his body was finally ready. They had no idea if he really felt any of their touches, heard their voices or saw them. He didn’t seem to.

He shifted himself a little more comfortably on the bed and rested his cheek against Peter’s hair. It smelled of the conditioner Wanda had used to untangle it and reapplied every other day to keep it from tangling again. It was a fresh, minty scent, and the results, with Wanda’s efforts, were brilliant.

It had taken hours for her to do it, working slowly and gently with a comb on each snagged strand. Peter had borne it all without too much fidgeting. He looked so much better for it now. Tony had been worried about what they could do with his hair. He would never have tried to do it in the shower, and the fact Rhodey had tried had infuriated him, though now he saw it was just a simple mistake that anyone could have made. He probably needed to say that to Rhodey, too, as things had been tense between them since it happened.

His eyes grew heavy, and he let them fall closed. If he fell asleep here, he might wake with a stiff neck, but it'd be worth it to know—or at least hope—that he was helping Peter rest. It would be the last time for a couple days, too. He was going to head home in the morning to spend time with the rest of his family as Morgan and Pepper needed him, too.

He would have worried more about leaving after the shower incident, but Bucky had now stepped up and seemed truly invested in being whatever Peter needed him to be and doing whatever he could to help him through his days. Tony thought he had now joined the small group of people that would give or do anything for Peter's health and happiness. 

Tony’s breaths became heavy and slow, his heart calm and steady as he drifted off to sleep. Then he stiffened, and his breaths and pulse picked up as he sensed something different in the room. His eyes snapped open and then widened as he saw who was standing beside the bed.

“Hello, Mr. Stark."

“Vision! How the hell are you here?” He blinked twice in hopes of banishing the illusion in front of him. “You’re dead.”

Vision smiled slightly. “I am not your friend, Vision. I am Mind.”

Tony's mouth dropped open, and his breath gusted out of him with shock. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs in an agitating way.

"Mind?" he said weakly. "You're the…" He eased Peter away from him, laid him down and pulled the blankets up to his chin, then got off the bed and walked warily to stand between his son and the apparition.

Mind frowned. “You shouldn’t have done that; he likes to be held.”

Tony felt a pang of guilt and then dismissed it and addressed the more important question. “How am I seeing you? I’ve seen you before, and you didn’t look like Vis. You’re a little yellow glowy rock.”

Mind’s mouth pinched into a thin line. “You are not seeing me any more than Peter can see me as I truly am. This is just a form I created for Peter to speak to in person the way we all did. And you’re seeing me now because I am in your head.”

When Tony looked stricken, he held up a hand and went on.

"You are dreaming, Mr. Stark. I was able to come to you because you were connecting with Peter through Soul. We have been trying for a long time, but Peter has been guarded, and you never both reached at the same time."

Tony shook his head as he tried to make sense of his thoughts, and then Mind’s words struck him, and he gasped. “Wait, Peter is reaching for me? He can feel me?”

Mind smiled. "Yes. He went to sleep hearing your voice, and he embraced it. He is very aware that you're here, though perhaps not in a way you can understand. Peter does not see you or hear you clearly, but he senses you, feels you when you’re close to him. Not the physical touch exactly, but more the sensation in his mind. It’s hard to explain.”

Tony pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to make sense of it. “So, he can hear us and feel us, but not the way he did before?”

“Yes. Peter’s life now is a flow of sensory input that agitates, soothes, and stimulates him in turn. Imagine you are swimming in the ocean. Each wave that rolls over you touches your whole body, but not your mind. With Peter, it's the opposite. All stimulation rolls over him, touching his mind, but not his body. When he feels a touch, it becomes a potent thought, as do the things he hears, smells, and sees.”

“Bucky said he liked the lake. He was seeing it—I saw the change in his eyes.”

“He was, in his way. He likes the sensory input of the light on the water." He gave Tony another small smile. "Many of the things you have been doing for him have helped. He likes to be touched, he likes to hear your voices, and he can feel and smell the things around him.”

Tony exhaled in a sigh and looked back at Peter, who seemed to be resting peacefully, though technically Tony was apparently resting, too. To be aware in a dream and holding a conversation with an Infinity Stone was a mind trip.

“Why isn’t he coming back? If he knows we’re waiting for him, that I am, why is he still…”—he waved a hand—“gone?”

Mind looked sad. “Because he will not allow us to bring him out of it.”

“You mean he’s doing this on purpose?” Tony said incredulously.

“Yes. He is utilizing the power of us all to hide. Your friend Wanda sees a version of us when she looks because Peter is hidden behind us."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. He’d not imagined Peter would be doing this on purpose, that he would abandon them like this.

“Why?” he moaned. “Why would he leave me like this?”

“He is afraid of hurting someone. He broke the conditioning when he was ordered to kill Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, but he’s confused. He doesn’t know if that control will remain. He was not fully aware of us or our power and promise at the time he broke free, as the conditioning was confusing him. We cannot be sure, as we were not fully present, but Soul and I believe Peter was unaware of his essential immortality when he prepared to shoot himself.”

Tony sucked in a shaky breath. “He would have killed himself to stop it! God, Pete…” He looked back at his son and felt a swell of pain in his chest that was crushing. “You’re going to be the end of me, kid.” 

Peter's brow furrowed, and he made a small sound of pain.

“No!” Mind said urgently. “You’ve hurt him! Your soul is… Mr. Stark, you have to—”

One moment he was there, the next, he flickered away like a TV with the power cutting off. With his next breath, Tony found himself jerking awake on the bed.

Peter had rolled off of him and was lying with his face half-covered by the comforter. Tony tugged it down and cupped Peter’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” he said, his voice heavy with pain. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” He drew a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you. It’s bad enough that you’re like this, but that you would have done that to yourself, to me, and left me behind willingly…” He shook his head and laid down, curling around Peter as if he could defend him from the pain he was feeling.

He had more insight into what was happening to his son, and that might help a little, but he'd messed up, and he didn't know when he'd be able to talk to Mind or any of The Stones again. They were the ones that held the answers. Mind had been about to tell him what he had to do, but Tony had upset Peter and broken the connection before he’d had a chance to hear it.

It had taken a month for the circumstances to match so Mind could talk to him, and they had no way of knowing when it would happen again.

Tony had really screwed up.

Chapter Text

Steve was eating breakfast, listening to the conversation around the table when Friday spoke up.

“Colonel Rhodes, Mr. Stark is asking if you can feed and sit with Peter.”

Rhodey’s head snapped up from the plate of eggs he’d been prodding, and a surprised smile lifted his lips. "He wants me to take care of Pete?"

“Yes,” she replied.

Rhodey took a swig of his coffee, grabbed Peter's feed from the fridge, and hurried out of the room, leaving them looking after him.

“Okay, anyone got a clue what that’s about?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Wanda said, brow furrowed. “Tony has been very particular about Peter’s care since the shower incident.”

“Maybe he’s gotten over it,” Sam said. “God knows it was time.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

They had all been surprised to see the rift develop between the two old friends after Peter’s breakdown and Rhodey’s injury. It wasn’t that Tony was harsh with Rhodey or that they’d even had crossed words—not in front of any of them at least. Tony just asked Steve or Bucky to do anything for Peter that he didn't do himself most of the time. Steve knew it had been getting Rhodey down, and he was glad there seemed to be a softening now. 

He also wondered why Tony was leaving Peter’s feed to someone else when he was there to do it himself.

A few minutes passed with little conversation as they all ate the breakfast Sam and Bucky had prepared. Steve was working on his second plate of scrambled eggs when Tony came into the room and went straight to the counter to pour himself a coffee. His eyes were alive with some indefinable emotion, possibly excitement, but they were also circled by shadows.  Without a word, he drank the first mug, interspersing sips with quick breaths to cool it, and then filled it again and came to sit at the head of the table.

“You look exhausted,” Steve said. “Did Queens have a bad night?”.

Tony's lips quirked. "Not really, not once he finally fell asleep anyway, but I had trouble settling after…" He took a deep breath and said, "I spoke to the Mind Stone last night."

Steve gasped and then choked on the coffee he'd been drinking. Bucky slapped him on the back with his prosthetic hand in an attempt to help him clear his windpipe, which made him rock forward into the table. The coffee sloshed out of the mug and puddled around it.

He held up a hand, said, "I'm good, Buck," in a raspy voice, and reached for a napkin to clean up the mess.

“You spoke to one of The Infinity Stones?” Bruce said, his incredulity clear in his wide eyes.

“Yeah. It’s crazy, I know, and I don’t think I’d believe any of you if you said it to me, but it happened, and I am sure it was real. There's no way my brain could come up with a dream that nuts." He took another sip of coffee then leaned forwards and said. "I fell asleep with Pete last night, and I saw Mind. He looked like Vision, like Peter says he does to him, and he told me some stuff."

“That is crazy,” Sam said. “Like completely and utterly nuts.

Tony nodded. “It sounds it, I know, but it’s not. I’m not crazy. It really happened. Mind said he was able to talk to me because the circumstances were right for once. I was ‘reaching’ for Peter, whatever that means, and Peter was reaching for me with The Soul Stone.”

Steve’s head snapped up from the soggy napkins he was balling up. “Peter was reaching for you? So he’s aware?”

“Not the way you mean, no. He’s still shut down.” He sighed. “Okay, here’s what Mind said—Peter’s aware of us, he can hear, see, smell, and feel, but it’s not the same for him as it is for us. It’s…” He snapped his fingers. “It’s all in his head. Everything around him becomes a thought. I can hold his hand, but he won’t actually feel my hand, but he will have the sense of connection and comfort. At least that’s what I think he meant. But Peter is aware.” He leaned back and beamed around at them all.

Steve found his own smile growing. None of them had been sure Peter was even peripherally aware of them anymore. But this, if what Tony had dreamed was real, meant there were ways they could help him, even if only a little.

As if he was tracking Steve’s thoughts, Tony said, “He likes it, being with us. Mind says he’s focused on sensory input of what’s happening to and around him. I figure it’s because he’s got nothing else. But he likes to be touched, and he likes hearing our voices.” He looked at Bucky. “He does like the light on the water.”

Bucky slapped his hand on the table. “I knew it! So, he is connecting to us.”

Tony nodded eagerly. "He is! I was holding him when he fell asleep; in fact, he went off pretty much when I had him settled on my chest. I was talking, touching him, and that made him reach for me."

“This is amazing,” Sam said. “There is so much more we can try now. We can bring him into mealtimes: the sounds, the smells, it will show him where he is and what’s happening.”

“And that could help?” Steve asked him.

“Absolutely,” Sam said enthusiastically. “He needs positive external stimulation if that’s all he’s getting. This is more than just the games and apps we were showing him because he’s not seeing them the way we thought. We’ve got to make it more about the other senses, too.”

"Exactly," Tony said. "There was more. Mind was just about to tell me when I screwed it up. But he said…" He winced. “They—The Stones—think Peter was unaware that he’d live when he turned the gun on himself. I freaked out and said something that upset Peter, which made him withdraw. And Mind was about to tell me what we have to do.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “We’ve got to be ready if it happens again. I have no idea how we reach for him or if he’ll do it at the same time, but we’ve got to be ready.”

“We will,” Bucky said. “We all will.”

“Did Mind say anything else helpful?” Bruce asked. 

Tony’s face fell. “Yeah, he did. Well, not helpful, but it answers a question. What’s happening right now, Peter being shut down, is something he’s doing to himself intentionally. He’s using The Infinity Stones to hide. That’s why you only see the lights when you read him, Wanda.”

“Why would he do that?” Bucky asked.

“He’s scared,” Tony said heavily. “He knows he’s a risk with the programming. Mind said he broke it when he turned the gun on himself, but he doesn’t know if that’s the end.”

“Do any of us?” Sam asked cautiously.

Tony instantly glared daggers at him and then seemed to sag with defeat. “No, we don’t,” he sighed—an admission.

"The words are in his mind now," Bucky said darkly. "Just like they were with me. He's not triggered now, he broke through, but the threat of them is still there. I won't use them, and we will all protect him from Ross, but I'm pretty sure that’s not going to be enough for Peter, even if he knew it.”

Tony shook his head and said, “No, it won’t be enough, not for Pete.”

“So, we’ve got to find a way to wipe their power,” Bruce said. “Even if we do connect with Mind again and he gives us the answers we need to get Peter out of himself, he is still going to be terrified.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I'm working on it. I've not been able to put much time into it here because he needs us so much, but when I go home, I'll be able to get to work on it when Morgan is sleeping."

“You also need sleep, Tony,” Steve reminded him. “You look like hell.”

Tony waved a hand. "Yeah, thanks, Cap. I am going home, though. I want to spend some time with Morgan, more than coming and going for a day. Pepper says she’s having a hard time; she doesn’t understand why she can’t see Peter again and why he’s not even calling her. I’ll go home now, spend a couple days with them, and see what I can come up with for Pete at the same time.”

“And you will sleep,” Steve prompted.

Tony waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Steve wasn't appeased, but he thought it might actually be easier for Tony to be away for a while. He was going to worry about Peter, and he was sure as hell going to push himself too hard trying to find a fix. Still, he would be outside the situation, which would be easier. Without Peter's needs being there, within his reach to help, he could get more done."

Tony sighed. “Okay, I’ve told Rhodey the footnotes version, but you guys can fill him in on what’s going on and what we’ve got to do.”

“Of course,” Steve said.

Tony drained his coffee and then looked from Steve to Bucky. “Keep an eye on Peter for me. If anything happens, call me. I don’t care what the time is, and I don’t care how small you think it is.”

“We will,” Bucky said, his tone making it a promise.

Sam grinned. "Don't forget, Tony, you've got Friday to keep an eye on us. You can have minute-by-minute updates of what we're doing."

Tony got to his feet with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ve not forgotten. In fact, I’m relying on it.”

Bucky looked unusually solemn as he said, “You can trust us, Tony. We will take care of Peter. Relax and spend time with the rest of your family for a while.”

Tony met his eyes and nodded. “I do trust you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’m going to say goodbye to Pete and then head out.”

They said their farewells as he strode out of the room, his shoulders straight and his stride hurried. Steve imagined he was eager to get to Peter, to reassure himself he was going to be okay, and then he would be able to see Pepper and Morgan. It had to be impossible for him to be torn between his two children. Steve wasn’t sure how he’d be able to handle it himself. 

Apart from Peter himself, Tony had the rawest deal here. Maybe it was worse for him than Peter, even. Peter was closed off, away from the fear and concern they were all feeling about him. Was he aware enough inside himself to be scared of the programming still, or was it just all the things around him that he felt now?

Steve wished he’d had a chance to speak to Mind himself, to ask his questions. Hopefully, though, he would soon if they could pull their plan off to connect with Peter again.

Chapter Text

“Just a little longer, bud, then we need to get you fed,” Bucky said. “Then maybe you can sit in the kitchen while I make lunch for the rest of us. I’m not sure what everyone wants, but I was thinking grilled cheese would be good." His arm, wrapped around Peter's shoulders, hugged him a little closer. "You know that smells pretty good when it’s cooking, so it’ll be special for you, too.”

Steve smiled. They’d been out by the lake for an hour, sitting on the rocks, and Steve was enjoying both his friend’s pleasure in the company and the fact that they now knew Peter was getting something out of this. The light on the water, their voices and contact, all added up to make the moment more poignant.

“I could help with lunch,” Steve offered.

Bucky snorted. “You really think I’d risk our lunch like that? Do you hear him, bud? Captain America thinks I’m letting him loose in our kitchen.”

Steve scowled. “I can handle slicing cheese, Buck. I’m not completely useless.”

Bucky grinned. “Not completely, no, but in the kitchen, yes.” He ducked his head and spoke to Peter again. “Seriously, bud, you wouldn’t believe how big a mess someone as smart and skilled as him can make.”

“Sure, laugh it up,” Steve said, though there was no heat in his words. He was conscious of keeping the mood around them light in case Peter was absorbing it.

“I will,” Bucky said, getting to his feet and stretching. “Let’s get you fed, bud.” He eased Peter up beside him and took his hand.

Peter followed him obediently into the living room where Wanda was sitting with her legs curled under her, and a book open on her lap. Bruce and Rhodey were playing pool, and Sam was watching the news on the TV.

They all looked up and greeted Peter as was their habit now, and Rhodey set his cue down and said, "Time to eat?".

“Yep,” Bucky said. “Me and Steve can take care of it. You finish your game.”

“Nah, I’ve won anyway.”

“You’ve not won until the black is pocketed," Bruce said, setting down his own cue and crossing his large arms over his chest. "So technically, you're forfeiting the game.”

Rhodey shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He looked back to Steve and Bucky. “I’ll get the gear.”

He wandered into the kitchen, and Bucky led Peter into his bedroom, Steve following. Bucky settled Peter onto the bed, placed a blanket on his lap, and then sat beside him with his legs stretched out in front of him. Steve perched on the cot opposite and watched Peter as his fingers began to move back and forth on the soft blanket.

Tony hadn’t been able to explain it very well, so Steve wondered what it was like for Peter to have that stimulation. It was hard to imagine how it would feel for him to be inside himself like that, behind The Stones. No matter what direction Steve came at it, how he reminded himself it was something Peter was doing intentionally, he couldn’t imagine that it was a positive feeling for him.

Rhodey came in with the jug of feed, which he poured into the syringe as Bucky tugged up Peter's t-shirt and then secured the syringe into the port and held it up.

“Grilled cheese for lunch?” Bucky said conversationally. “And then I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie. We’ve not tried that before, but the sounds and pictures would be a lot of stimulation.”

Rhodey nodded, looking eager. “Yeah. What do you want to watch, Pete?”

“What does he like?” Steve asked.

Rhodey and Bucky exchanged a glance and then shrugged in unison.

“No idea,” Rhodey said. “Well, he likes what he calls ‘old’ movies, which I think means the classics, and I know he likes Empire Strikes Back. Friday, you got Star Wars on your drive?”

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes,” she replied. “And Peter enjoys Star Wars, but not the prequels. He once told Mr. Stark that they were an insult to the saga.”

Steve laughed. “That sounds like him.”

Rhodey smiled fondly. “Okay, Friday, line up A New Hope for when we’re ready.”

“Done,” she replied.

Steve settled back and listened as Rhodey began to explain the Star Wars prequels to a bewildered Bucky, then he sat up, breath catching, as something shifted in Peter’s eyes. The empty stare was gone, and he was looking down at the syringe feeding the tube into his stomach with a pinched brow.

"Could you please remove that?" he asked, his voice strangely formal.

“Pete!” Rhodey gasped.

Bucky dropped the syringe onto Peter’s lap in shock and squatted in front of Peter, hands on his face and voice eager as he said, “Peter! Bud, did you just talk?”

Peter gave a small sigh and said, “Please remove that thing. I don’t know how long I have.”

“Pete?” Rhodey said doubtfully.

It clicked in Steve’s mind, what he was hearing, as he remembered now when he’d heard that voice before. It was on the battlefield, when Peter had been unconscious and deathly ill, and the voice had spoken in his mind as it made the pronouncement that started it all. “Worthy,”

“That’s not Queens,” he said. “Give him some space.”

Bucky moved back, face wary, and Rhodey leaned away from Peter, shocked eyes wide and brows high. Steve disconnected the tube from the port, and Peter tugged down his t-shirt.

“Which one are you?” Steve asked.

He looked up at him, his eyes shocking in their awareness after so long but without the warmth that was all Peter, and said, “I am Mind.”

“Damn,” Bucky muttered. 

Peter—No, Mind—got to his feet and walked to the window where he stood for a moment, looked out, and then turned and said, “Is Mr. Stark here?”

“No,” Rhodey said, his sadness that this wasn’t Peter speaking evident in his voice.

“Then you should call him so I can speak to you all at once or be prepared to relay the message.” He pressed a hand to his forehead for a moment, closed his eyes, and said, “Yes, we have time.”

“How the hell are you doing this?” Bucky asked.

Peter’s brows pinched together again, and he said, “I am an Infinity Stone.” The inflection made it clear he thought Bucky was stupid to ask. “Please, contact Mr. Stark.”

“My phone’s not here,” Rhodey said, getting quickly to his feet.

“Then get it,” Mind said.

He walked out of the room, footsteps sure and steady, into the living room where Steve heard Bruce say, “Uh… What’s going on?” and Wanda’s gasp of, “Peter!”

“No,” he replied.

Steve rushed in after him, Rhodey and Bucky following him, to find Mind standing with his back to the window, hands clasped in front of him and an impatient look in his eyes.

“It’s not Peter—it’s Mind,” Steve explained. “He’s got something to tell us.”

Rhodey grabbed his phone from where it was charging and said, “Home Base, call Tony.”

The call connected, and Tony's face filled the hologram. "Rhodey, what's going on?”

“Are you alone?” Rhodey asked. “Is Morgan there?”

“Yeah, hold on.” The video became shaky as Tony moved away and then steadied with him outside. “What’s going on?”

“I need to speak to you, Mr. Stark,” Mind said.

"Pete!" Tony's eyes widened, and face transformed with happiness.

“It’s not him,” Bucky said, standing beside Rhodey so he was in view. “It’s Mind.”

Tony cursed, and then his voice turned dark. "Where is Peter while you're doing this? Are you hurting him?

His eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I would? Do you think any of us would hurt the one we found Worthy? We have tried to help him.”

“You let Thuri hurt him,” Bucky accused. “Where were you when he was being brainwashed and starved?”

Peter’s features morphed into misery. "We were withdrawn with Peter's knowledge and agreement. We knew what they were going to do to him, and he refused to use us to defend himself. His fear for the child was too great for him to risk using us, and we knew how great the threat would be if he was controlled and free to use our power. We did the right thing and took ourselves beyond his reach.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, his throat swelling with pain. Peter really had been alone in that place, without even The Stones to help him. 

“Sounds like you hurt him a lot to me,” Sam said accusingly.

Mind gave his head a brisk shake. It was so strange to see Peter so animated after so long and so jarring to know it wasn’t him. “You don’t have time for this,” he said. “If you want to help him—”

“Of course we do!” Tony snapped.

“Then you will listen to me, Tony Stark."

Tony’s face reddened, and Rhodey held up a hand and said, “We’re listening, so talk. You said you don’t have long.”

"I don't. Peter is drifting at the moment, so I took advantage of the chance to speak to you once a connection with Sergeant Barnes was made.”

Bucky sucked in a breath and flexed his metal hand, bringing it to his chest.

“Peter is using us in a way that we neither like nor condone, but he is the one in control of us. The strength of will he possesses is like nothing we’ve experienced. We want him to stop, to be with you again, but we cannot break him out of this without causing him great pain, and we will not do that.”

"So it's down to us?" Bruce asked.

He nodded, and then his eyes became distant, and he said, “No. I do not think that is the best idea. I am telling them— Fine.” He gave a small shudder, and then his eyes darkened. He spoke, his voice was different, no longer careful and polite—it was now biting and angry. "You know what, for people that save the world, you're all so damn dumb.”

“Excuse me?” Tony said. “Who the hell are you?”

“Really, really dumb. And I’m Power. Listen up now, because if the kid comes back and feels threatened, he's going to shut down even harder and we won't have a chance again. You want to help him, great, but you need to fix him right. Mind thinks he can be reached by the power of love, which is a sweet idea but bullshit. He’s going to need a lot more than that to come out of this. You have two jobs." He raised one finger. "One: make him feel safe, which you’re already working on, kinda, but try harder. Two: fix what he’s scared of. You’ve had him a month and still haven’t done anything about the mindfuck that Wakandan asshole pulled on him. Stark, you're a genius; according to the kid, you’re the genius, so get to work. The rest of you… I guess you do what you’re already doing. You need to connect to him in a way that he can’t resist. You need someone he loves.”

“Who?” Rhodey asked. “If he’s not connecting to Tony and his aunt is dead, who is there?”

Power pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god… Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover it. He thinks you’re all so damn awesome, so brave and clever, and he loves you so much that he’s given up everything for you. He’s doing this to himself to protect you, and you can’t even work out what he needs!”

“Then tell us!” Bucky demanded, his voice rising. “We love him, too, and we want him back, so help us do it!”

Power smirked. “You’re new. Huh, impressive connection. How did that happen?” He shook his head. “Okay, if you connect with him, get him out of himself—and if you don't actually start working the problem, you won't— you've got to keep him. He is going to want to leave you, so find something big enough to stay for."

“How do we do that?” Tony asked.

Power rolled his eyes. “Do you know him at all, Stark? I mean, really, do you? You had all that time with him before he got snapped away, so what do you think he would stay for?”

The silence of the room was answer enough. Not even Tony knew, and he was the one closest to Peter. The rest of them hardly had a chance to know him at all. Bucky, who was so close to Peter now, had barely spoken to him before they got him back, so his connection was all about what had been built since Peter shut down.

“I have no idea why he loves you all so much,” Power said, glaring around at them. “Seriously. You don’t know him at all.”

“Then tell us!” Bucky roared, advancing on Power with his hands fisted. “You know so much, tell us how to fix him!”

Power glared back at him, and then his hands came to his hair, and his breath quickened.

“No, Pete,” Bucky gasped. “I didn’t mean…”

Peter’s knees buckled, and he dropped. He scrambled backward until his back was pressed to the window, and there he curled into a ball, face hidden against his knees and his whole body shaking.

Power was gone. This was Peter. And he was terrified.

Bucky cursed and took a step forward, but Steve grabbed his arm and said, “Maybe not right now, Buck.”

Bucky’s face fell, but he seemed to agree with what Steve was saying as he moved back, hands raised. It was his voice that Peter had heard shouting, perhaps; it was the stimulation that came from him that had set Peter off, at least.

Rhodey made his way to Peter slowly, Tony’s voice coming over the phone as he called to Peter and demanded to know what was happening. Rhodey sank slowly to the floor and pulled Peter against his side. Peter didn't relax into him at all; he remained curled into a ball.

Steve picked up the phone as Rhodey began to speak softly to Peter, soothingly, and said, “We’re taking care of it, Tony. We’ll call you back. I think we need a few less people in here at the moment.”

Tony started to protest, but Steve ended the call, then gestured to the others and said, “Let’s leave Rhodey to it. Give Queens some space.”

With reluctant sighs and nods, they filed out of the room and into the kitchen. Sam went to the coffee maker as Wanda slid into a seat and buried her face in her hands.

“Well, that was a mess,” Bruce said tiredly.

“It was,” Steve agreed.   

“Am I the only one thinking those Stones are assholes?” Sam asked. “They’re supposed to care about Peter, but Power was too busy making us feel like crap to say anything helpful.”

“I think they do care,” Wanda said quietly. “And I think that’s the problem. If they can’t do anything to help Peter, it’s on us, and they’re frustrated. And Power is right—Peter’s been back over a month, and we've gotten nowhere.

“We’re trying,” Bucky said defensively.

“We are,” Steve agreed, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze and then dropping his hand. “And we’ll keep trying. Maybe that Mind one will have another chance to talk. He was a little more helpful than Power.”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Gotta say, for an Infinity Stone, Power is nothing like I expected. Imagine being trapped in your head with that.”

Steve frowned and tried to remember what Peter had said when he explained The Stones. “Power… He’s that Star Lord, right? Peter Quill? One of those Guardians team that Queens and Tony met on Titan?”

“Yes,” Wanda said.

“Which figures,” Rhodey said from the doorway, leading a now calm but closed-off Peter with him. “Tony said he was an ass then, too.” He steered Peter into a seat and said, “Bucky, you said something about making lunch. Me and Pete thought it sounded good."

Bucky stared at Peter a moment, his face a picture of pain and guilt, and then he nodded, patted Peter’s back, and said, "Yeah. We agreed on grilled cheese, right, bud?" He looked at Peter as if awaiting a reply then said, "I'll get right on it."

Steve sat down and watched as Bucky took the things he’d need out of the fridge, chattering to Peter about what he was doing, and he felt a wave of affection for his best friend. There was a time in which his outburst and Peter’s consequent breakdown would have sent Bucky spiraling down with guilt, but he’d mastered it and was getting back to helping in the only way any of them knew how.

Which would stay the only way until, perhaps, they could speak to Mind again.

Chapter Text

Tony’s eyes moved from his phone, where he was looking at the photos of Morgan and Happy having a tea party that Pepper had sent him, to Peter, who was shifting from side to side in his seat between Rhodey and Bucky.

“You need a bathroom break, Pete?” he asked, setting his phone down. “Friday, pause it.”

The movie stopped, and everyone seemed to shake off their intent focus on The Return of the Jedi and look to Peter.

“Damn,” Rhodey muttered. “Sorry, Pete. Got caught up in the movie. Let’s make you a little more comfortable.”

“I’ll do it,” Tony said.

“No, I’ve got it.” Rhodey got to his feet and then eased up Peter beside him.

Peter followed Rhodey dutifully out of the room, led by the hand, and Tony heard the bathroom door click closed behind them.

“Should have caught that sooner,” Bucky said. “This movie’s actually a lot better than I expected. I can see why Peter likes them.”

“They are good,” Tony agreed. “And he more than likes them. He’s nuts about them. Him and his buddy Ned like building Lego models of the spaceships and stuff.”

He frowned a moment, wondering if that was something they could utilize to connect with Peter, if one of them built them with him, and then dismissed it. Peter wouldn't get much out of someone else making them, which is what would happen.

“You’re heading home later, right, Tony?” Bucky said.

Tony ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’ll only be gone a couple nights, and I’ll be close if anything happens, but…”

“We’ll call you if anything changes,” Steve reminded him. "Like we always do. Honestly, though, I'm not expecting it to. It's been a week, and there's been no sign of any of The Stones talking again."

"Which means the circumstances aren't right," Wanda said, her frown pronounced. "We're not connecting."

Tony sighed. They'd been trying everything they could think of to help him, but nothing had changed since Mind and Power had made an appearance. They were just playing a waiting game now and puzzling over what they had heard. They needed someone Peter loved, but May was dead, and Tony was the closest person left to him. And it apparently wasn’t him.

“Or I freaked Peter out too much,” Bucky said, his guilt evident. “That ass Power warned us it could happen. I scared him.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Tony said, more because he wanted to comfort him than because he believed it.

The truth was, he’d seen how scared Peter had been, and he figured Peter wasn’t going to let it happen again in a hurry. Perhaps The Stones could break through his resistance and talk, but that might hurt him, which they’d said they wouldn’t do.

There was the sound of the toilet flushing, and after a minute, Rhodey and Peter came back into the room. Rhodey tried to guide Peter back to the couch, but Peter tugged away and walked to the window, which was dripping with the rain pouring outside.

Bucky got up and went to stand beside him. “We’ll go out when the rain stops, bud,” he said. “Anyone know when that’s supposed to be?”

“The forecast is rain for the next twenty-four hours,” Friday announced.

Bucky shook his head. “Okay, it might take a while, but we’ll go out as soon as it stops.” He placed a hand on the small of Peter’s back and said, “You want to finish the movie? We’ve got an hour before you need a feed. Or we can read. Wanda, how are you two doing with your book?”

“We’re at the Quidditch final in Prisoner of Azkaban.”

“How about that, bud?” Bucky asked. “Want to listen to Wanda read for a while? You don’t have to sit.”

Wanda picked up the tablet and was on the point of pulling up the eBook when Tony had an idea. He tucked his phone into his breast pocket and said, “Actually, me and Pete need a little time in the lab. I’ve got a project I need his help with.”

He stood and put an arm around Peter, steering him away from the window and around the couch, then out of the room, curious eyes following them.

They reached the lab, and Tony settled Peter on one of the rolling stools by the table then took the box he'd brought back with him after his last visit home. “Okay, I know you said you didn’t think you needed this anymore, but, kid, you were wrong. You do need this. Spider-Man isn’t something you can just shake off now you’ve got The Stones. It’s part of who you are.”

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Peter’s blank face and hoping these words, though they would not reach him clearly, were touching something.

“So, I am going to make you a new suit, a better one, and it’ll be ready when you are, okay?”

Peter blinked, and his fingers started to fumble with his pants legs.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Let’s do something about that before we get started.” He looked around for something to give Peter to hold, but there was nothing suitable in the room, nothing soft. With a shrug, he unzipped his hoodie and laid it over Peter’s lap.

"Try this," he said. "Pep washed it, so it should feel nice. She uses that fancy lavender detergent that makes it all soft and stuff. Hell, I don't know, kid, but it's soft and smells good."

Peter’s fingers found it, movements becoming more gentle, stroking motions.

Tony unpacked Peter’s new suit from the box and spread it over the table. He was using some of the tech Shuri had sent with him, the enforced nanites and the material from the original suit he made Peter.

“We’ve got vibranium here, Pete, that T’Challa sent just for you.” He tousled Peter’s hair. “Saving the universe comes with rewards, huh? And this…” he patted the chest of the suit where he’d already laid the new nanite shield, “is an invention of Shuri that will store and expend kinetic energy. Basically, you get punched, you get a whole store of power to send back. How’s that for invention?”

He hooked up Friday to the suit and began a diagnostic for the glitch he’d noticed when working on it at home.

“Incoming call from Mrs. Stark,” Friday announced. “Shall I connect?”

"Hang on," Tony said, moving away from Peter so he would not be in view of the video in case Morgan was there. "Okay, connect, but keep the video on me."

“Okay, Boss. Connecting.”

A moment later, Pepper’s face filled the hologram in front of him, her smile wide and eyes soft. “Hey,” she said. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. I was just working on something in the lab with Pete. How’s everything at home?”

“We’re all good. I was just calling to make sure you’d be home for dinner and to ask what you wanted to eat.”

“I’ll be home,” Tony said. “Hmm, dinner… How about I pick us up some pizza on the way back? There’s that place in town Morgan likes. Obviously, it’s got nothing on New York City pizza, but it’s not bad.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Don’t forget to get pineapple on—”

“Happy’s,” Tony said with a grimace. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll include the abomination topping, but I'm not sitting next to him."

She laughed. “You’re such a baby. It’s not like he’s asking you to eat it.”

“I’d fire him if he did,” Tony said seriously.

She shook her head, giving him a fond smile. “You want to talk to Morgan? Put an order in for dessert?”

“Sure,” he said.

Pepper called over her shoulder, and Morgan bounced into view. "Daddy! Are you coming home yet?”

"In a couple hours," he said. "Just got a few things to do here first. I wanted to ask you if you could fix dessert since I'm bringing pizza home with me."

She clapped her hands. “Pizza! Yay!”

“I was thinking brownies to go after,” Tony said. “You think you and Mommy can…”

He trailed off as he heard something beside him. His eyes darted to Peter, and his heart skipped as he saw that Peter wasn't just on his feet, but his eyes were alert, too, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ve got to go, honey,” he said. “I’ll call you right back.”

He swiped across the screen to end the call and rushed towards Peter, then stopped before touching him as he realized this wasn’t Peter—it was one of The Stones.

“Which one are you?” he asked.

Peter looked up, his eyes seeming to be weighted, and his lip trembled, then he spoke in a whisper that seemed to take all his energy to make. “Mo?”

“Peter!” Tony gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Yes! Yes, that was Morgan! Oh, god, Pete. I’m here. She’s okay.” He pulled Peter against his chest and shouted, “Friday, get everyone in here. It’s Peter!”

He hugged Peter against him and then pulled back, holding him at arm’s length and ducking his face to look into his eyes. But they'd changed. The awareness that had shown was lost, and Peter was into a blank mask again.

“No,” he moaned. “Pete, please, give me something.”

There was a rush of movement at the door, Steve and Bucky racing in first, Bruce right behind them, and Sam, Wanda, and Rhodey bringing up the rear.

“What happened?” Steve asked. “Is he okay?”

Tony was still holding Peter, but he couldn’t speak. His words were stolen by the shock of what had happened. That was Peter’s voice speaking, his awareness, not The Infinity Stones’. He’d asked for Morgan.

“Tony, what happened?” Steve asked, pulling him away from Peter and giving him a firm shake as Bruce checked Peter’s pulse and ran a finger across his eyes.

Tony licked his lips and tried to speak, but it came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and said, “Peter spoke.”

“You mean The Stones did,” Bucky said.

Tony shook his head, moving back to Peter and stroking his warm cheek. "He said Morgan's name. It was him. Pepper called, and I was talking to Morgan. It was her voice—Peter connected with Morgan!”

Rhodey ran a hand through his hair and started to laugh. Tony stared at him incredulously and snapped, “What the hell is so funny?” but his friend couldn’t seem to stop laughing long enough to answer.

“Morgan,” Steve said with an air of dawning realization. “Of course, it was Morgan.”

Tony's eyes moved to him, bemused, and then his mind moved past his shock and short-lived elation as he understood. It needed to be someone Peter loved, and it wasn't him, for whatever reason, so it had to be Morgan. He loved her so much, and she adored him.

“He went there and suffered whatever it was they did to him because he was protecting her,” Bucky said, one hand on his heart and the other on Peter’s shoulder. “He gave everything for her.”

Rhodey choked himself to something resembling calm and said, “Power was right—we are stupid. None of us saw what he needed. It had to be Morgan.”

Tony put his arms around Peter again and held his face into his neck, feeling Peter’s warm and perfectly even breaths, untouched by the emotion around him.

“We can use this,” Wanda said. “We have to bring Morgan to him.”

Tony released Peter and stepped back, his heart sinking. “We can’t do that, not with how he looks now; he’s a mess. It’d destroy her to see her big brother like this.”

“Kids are resilient, Tony,” Bruce said. “You might be underestimating her.”

“No,” Rhodey said, voice firm. “Morgan’s an amazing kid, but she won’t be able to handle seeing Peter like this. It’s too much to ask of her. We’ll work something else out.”

Relieved to have support, Tony shot his friend a smile.

As much as Tony loved Peter—and he truly did and was desperate to help him—he knew Peter wouldn't want Morgan subjected to the sight of him like this. It would hurt her and therefore Peter, too.

“Boss, Mrs. Stark is calling again,” Friday announced.

Tony put his head in his hands and said, “Someone take Peter for his feed. I’ve got to talk to Pepper, to work something out.” He put his hand on the back of Peter’s head, tugged him forward and kissed his brow, and then moved out of range and said, “Okay, Friday, connect the call.”

Pepper’s face appeared, no longer smiling. “What happened?”

Tony took a breath and said, “We had a breakthrough, but I don’t know what to do, Pep.” His voice broke. “I…”

She stared at him a moment, then said, "Come home. We'll talk about it, work it out, but come home."

Tony stared at her, his heart longing for her arms to hold him and her words to tell him what to do—how to help one child without hurting the other—and he said, “I’m leaving now.  

Chapter Text

9. Sadness and Confrontation

The moment Tony pulled to a halt outside his house, the front door swung back, and his little girl raced out. He had barely got the car door open before he was flinging herself into his lap, her small arms clinging to him, and her voice pitched high with excitement.

“Daddy! You came early! You came early! The brownies aren’t ready yet.”

“That’s okay, Maguna,” he said, smoothing her hair. “I didn’t come home for brownies. I came to see my favorite girls.”

She giggled and released him, moving back so he could get out of the car, and then grabbed his hand and towed him towards the house, chattering the whole time. "Uncle Happy is here still. He's been sleeping over. I don't think he likes it much since he's on his phone a lot, telling people off, but when he's not on the phone, he plays with me. I'm trying to teach him fishing, but he doesn't like the worms. I think he's scared of them, like you are."

“I’m not scared of worms,” Tony said. “I just think they’re gross and wriggly and slimy. No one actually likes touching worms.”

“I do,” she chirped, tugging him through the still-open door and into the den where Happy was sitting on the chair with his phone to his ear, and Pepper was standing behind the couch. 

Tony had come here so enthused at the breakthrough they'd had, Peter connecting and speaking, but now, as he looked into their eyes, all he could think of was how far they had to go still. The happiness he'd felt at seeing his daughter, the relief at being home again, was gone, and he felt a sob bubble up his throat.

Pepper must have seen it coming because she said, "Morgan, why don't you take Happy in your room and…"

“Pick out a stuffed toy,” Tony rasped. “I can take it back to Peter. Happy will help you choose.”

Happy looked up and said curtly, "I'll call you back," then set down his phone and led the confused-looking Morgan out of the room by her hand, saying, "It's got to be a special one if Peter's going to like it. He's a picky kid."

Morgan giggled. “I’ll choose my best one.”

The moment they were out of the room, Pepper was in front of Tony, one hand pulling his head down so his face was tucked into her neck and the other on his back rubbing soothing circles.

Tony drew a hitching breath and began to cry. She shushed him as he sobbed and gasped for breath. When his knees began to shake, she guided him to the couch, then sat down and pulled him against her chest. He pressed close to her, smelling her lilac perfume and feeling her warmth, and said, "It was so bad, Pep. He was…. And now…"

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly.

But she couldn’t know. All she knew was what Tony had told her—that Peter was hurt and shut down. She'd never seen his ribs jutting beneath his pale skin, felt them catch against the washcloth as they cleaned him up; she hadn't looked into his eyes and seen no awareness there; she hadn't held him close and felt no return of the embrace.

She had no idea how bad it was, she couldn’t, because she hadn’t been there.

She ran her fingers through his hair and soothed him until his sobs became hiccups and his tears a trickle.

When he felt strong enough, calm enough, he straightened and turned her face to his with a finger on her chin and kissed her firmly on the lips. He deepened it after a moment, pouring his pain from himself into her and taking her strength in return.

She pulled back, hand coming to his face, and said, "How long have you been holding that in?" When he frowned, she went on. "Not the kiss. I know exactly how long that's been. I mean your pain?"

“A while,” he admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tony shook his head. “Not now. Hap can only occupy Morgan for a little longer before she chooses her prize stuffy for the week and hands it over. But later… Yes, I do need to talk about it, and there’s something else I need.”

She smiled slightly. “You know I’ll do anything you need me to.”

He nodded. “I know, but it’s Morgan I need.”

She frowned, and then Happy’s voice reached him, calling, “Wait up, squirt. I think Mommy and Daddy are talking.”

Morgan was already bursting into the room, though, a teddy in her hand, which she was waving and saying, "I picked Albert because he's the softest."

Tony quickly wiped the tears from his face and said, “That’s perfect. Peter likes soft things.”

Morgan looked a little puzzled, perhaps trying to consolidate the idea of her brother, the one that swung from webs and played video games with her, wanting a soft toy, but she quickly shrugged it off and beamed again. “Good.”

Tony looked at the teddy, imagining his son holding it in his hands, his fingers tracing the plush fur, and he was sure Peter would like it. It was also brought home to him, again, what a difference there was between his son now compared to the day he’d met Morgan and had his heart stolen by her. But Peter had connected with her voice on the phone; they had to cling to that. If Tony could make his plan work, Morgan might be able to bring him all the way home for all of them.

“And I had an idea!” Morgan announced as Happy dropped into the armchair and tapped the side of his chin, giving Tony a pointed look. Tony quickly touched the spot and found a tear that he—and hopefully Morgan—had missed. He wiped it away and turned his attention back to his daughter, who was still talking. “Mommy could make Albert a Spider-Peter suit like Petey wears the way she made my T-Rex costume for Halloween.”

“I could,” Pepper agreed. “That’s a good idea, honey. Will you help me?”

Morgan nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I can pick the fabric. It needs to be soft, like Albert. You could make it with the stuff your scarves are made of.”

“A Hermès silk Spider-Man suit?” Pepper said with a raised eyebrow. “That’s going to be a very high-end outfit for a teddy.”

“It’s for Peter,” Morgan said, as if that was all the answer her mother needed.

Pepper laughed softly. “It is. You know what, if I don’t have the right colors in my craft cupboard, I know I’ve got a scarf that’s the right blue that we can use, and we’ll find a red one, too.”

Morgan beamed. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“Let’s go look now,” Pepper said. “Daddy can make us some lunch.”

“Can’t I make lunch, too? Daddy only just came home, and I’ve hardly seen him. We can make the Spider-Peter suit after lunch.”

She fixed her wide and imploring eyes on Pepper, who smiled and nodded. "Sure, okay. How about we all make lunch. Uncle Happy can make lemonade for us with his secret recipe."

Tony quirked an eyebrow at Happy, puzzled, as this was the first time he’d ever heard of Happy having a recipe for anything, let alone a secret one, but Morgan jumped up and down and clapped her hands.

Happy got to his feet and said, “We can only make it if you’ve got all the ingredients, squirt.”

“What do you need?” Morgan asked.

“Lemons, sugar, water, and the secret ingredient that makes it special.”

Morgan looked at him hopefully. “What’s the secret?”

“Peanut butter,” Happy announced.

Morgan looked puzzled for a moment, and then she laughed and said, "Not really. That'd be weird.”

“No, not really,” Happy agreed. “It’d be more than weird—it’d be sticky and gross. But I’m not telling you what my secret is. I got it from my Momma, and she got it from her Momma before her."

He allowed Morgan to tow him into the kitchen, and Tony looked to Pepper. “Momma’s secret recipe? Happy?”

She grinned. “I’m pretty sure he got the recipe from Pinterest, but let’s not destroy the illusion.” 

Tony smiled and said, "I'll just go wash up, then I'll be in there."

She hugged him, kissed his cheek, and said, "You're home now. Morgan's here, I’m here, Happy is here, so you be here for a little while, too, okay? We can talk about Peter later.”

“Okay.”

She was right, he knew. He had two children that he needed to care for. Peter was safe, and he had people that loved him looking after him, so Tony needed to let go of those reins and focus on his other child.

They would work out how to help them both later.

xXx

“Daddy?” Morgan said drowsily at the end of a long and tiring evening as Tony tucked her into bed. “I want to know something.”

“Another question?” He laughed. “I figured you must have run out by now. It’s bedtime, and we already addressed why it rains, why juice pops aren’t a good breakfast food—though that’s Mommy’s rule—and where your dreams go when you’re awake. What else can you possibly want to know?”

“What’s wrong with Petey?”

Tony pulled back a little, shocked by the question. Though she’d spoken about Peter during the day, had been excited to make the suit with Pepper for her teddy, she’d not asked about seeing him again. He’d been surprised but had been pleased that he’d dodged the conversational bullet.

“Peter’s on vacation, you know that.”

"I heard Mommy say he was back when she and Uncle Happy were talking in their quiet voices when you were getting the wood and they were doing dishes. When they saw me, they stopped talking, and Mommy won't answer my questions."

Tony sighed and tucked the comforter a little higher on her shoulders. “Yes, Peter’s back, but his vacation wasn’t as good as we hoped. He came home a little sad, a little ill. He’s being very quiet now, needing to be looked after. That’s why I haven’t been home so much. I had to help Peter. But I didn’t want to upset you, so I kept it secret. I'm sorry.”

She frowned a moment and then asked, “But he’ll be better when he has Albert?”

Tony smiled. “You know, I think Albert will help a lot. I think you and Albert might be the ones with the magic this time, not Peter.”

Her brow creased, and she blinked sleepily. "I have magic like Petey?"

“No, honey,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You have magic like Morgan, and that’s just as special.”

He sat up and stroked her hair as she slowly gave in to sleep, her breaths becoming measured and slow, her body relaxing. He stayed a few more minutes and then got to his feet, knees popping, and walked out and down to the living room where Pepper and Happy were talking.

They fell silent when he came in and said, “She’s finally out.”

Pepper nodded and scooted up the couch to make a spot for him. He sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders, and she spread the blanket from her legs over his, too. He smiled as he thought of Peter with his own liking for blankets. Had someone given him one? Bucky surely would have. He was good about stuff like that.

Happy turned slightly in his chair so he was facing Tony and said, “So, how is the kid?”

Tony's smile faded, and he leaned a little closer to Pepper. "He's still not good, but we had something good today, a moment that looked like… I think it was a breakthrough—a connection."

“What happened?” Pepper asked.

“It was Morgan,” Tony said, his pride and pleasure in what his daughter had achieved clear in his voice. “He’s been shut down since we got him off The Raft, but he actually heard her today. It was when I was on the phone, when I took off.” “

“Yes,” Pepper said, her voice even but eyes a little tight. “I remember.”

Tony sighed. “I’m sorry, Pep. I know I’ve dropped the ball as a father lately, and I’m gonna make it right. I won’t let it happen again. It’s just that Pete needs me so much.”

She sighed. “I saw Peter through Home Base, I saw how bad he looked, and I know you said it’s been bad since, but you have two children that need you. You just cut your daughter off today.”

Tony felt an ache in his chest and an urge to defend himself, but he knew Pepper was right. He’d let Morgan down.

He ducked his head. “I know. I’m sorry, andI won’t let it happen again. I think, if I can make it work, it’ll be better for all of us soon.”

“Make what work?” Happy asked.

“I think Morgan’s the key,” he explained. “He was in the lab with me when you called, and when I spoke to Morgan, he heard her. He actually spoke!” His eyes were wide and alight with excitement as he finished.

Happy held up a hand. “Wait. He spoke? You’re this happy because he said something?”

“Yes!” Tony said incredulously. “Don’t you see how big this is?”

“Apparently not. I saw him on the video, so I know he was scrawny as all hell, and he passed out, but how do you go from that to being this happy because he spoke. It's Peter Parker— the kid who never shuts up.”

Tony looked from Happy’s blank face to Pepper’s confusion and felt a sinking in his gut. No wonder Pepper was so mad—they had no idea. He thought he’d told them enough of what was happening for them to understand, but he'd apparently failed at that.

"He's catatonic," he said, stopped as they gasped and Pepper placed a hand on her chest, then went on. "He has been since we got him off The Raft. He can't do anything for himself. He can't even eat. He's got a feeding tube in his stomach."

"You said he was shut down," Pepper whispered. "I thought you meant depressed. God…"

Happy was shaking his head, his eyes wide and unseeing. Tony thought he could imagine the battle being waged inside him as he tried to imagine Peter like that. If he’d not seen it himself, Tony wouldn't be able to either. The kid who rarely stopped talking, who was always in motion—hands tapping out a beat, knees bouncing—was now a shell.

"But he spoke," Pepper said, drawing a deep breath to calm herself. "He heard Morgan, and he spoke?”

Tony nodded eagerly. “Yes, and I want to see if we can do it again, get him to connect with Morgan. Maybe then we can keep him connected.

Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “Tony, if he’s as bad as you say, you can’t think I’d ever let you take her to him. She’d be devastated seeing him like that."

“No!” Tony gasped, lurching to his feet and backing away. “I’d never… God, Pep, you think I don’t already know this? Do you really think I’d put her through that?

“No, of course.” She held out a hand, face apologetic, but he ignored it and moved further away, ignoring her hurt look.

“I am talking about a phone call! If she can just talk to him, if he can hear her voice and see her face, it might connect him again. If we can just reach him, convince him she’s safe, he might stay with us.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You think I’d actually let her— You know why I didn’t do this already, put her on video earlier today? It’s because I didn’t want to scare her the way she would be if she saw how awful he looks!”

Pepper stood and approached him, hands held up in front of her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought it, even for a second; I was just scared. You love Peter so much, Tony: I know that because I saw what happened to you when you lost him. And I can see how much you want to fix this for him now.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed, not moving away from her but not moving any closer. “I love him, but I love Morgan, too. They’re both my kids, and I love them equally. I won't hurt one of them to help the other. I won't put Morgan on the phone unless I am sure she’s prepared and can handle it. I won’t let her see him at all—it'll be a one-way video. If I think she can understand that he can't talk, however I explain it, then I will let her call.”

“So will I,” Pepper said. “If we can help Peter without hurting her, you know I will do it.”

She reached out and took his hand. He let her do it, and he didn't resist when she pulled him close for a moment and then held him at arm's length.

“You have two children, Tony—” she started.

He stiffened again. “I know!”

"Let me finish," she said, and when he'd pressed his lips together, she went on. "You have two children, and I have one. I love Peter because of who he is to you, but I've never had a chance to get to know and love him for himself. That would be different if we had time, I know." She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. "And I'm sorry I upset you. I do know how much you love Morgan, and I know you wouldn't let her be hurt. I was just scared for a second at the idea.”

Tony stared into her eyes, soft and imploring, and he nodded. “I understand. I overreacted. Since… hell, since forever, things have been so messed up, and just when I get something good, I seem to lose it. I can’t lose anything else, Pep.”

He swallowed hard as the pain and worry of weeks swelled up inside him, and he squeezed his eyes closed.

Happy cleared his throat and excused himself, and Pepper’s hands settled on his shoulders.

He kept his eyes squeezed close to hold the tears at bay, only opening them when she said, “Why don’t you call Rhodey, check in and maybe say goodnight to Peter? We can go to bed after, and tomorrow we’ll talk to Morgan. Then, if she can handle it, we can see about getting your son back, too.” She cupped his cheek. “That sound good?”

"It sounds perfect," he said gratefully. “Yeah, I’ll call, check in, and then I do need sleep.”

If tomorrow went the way he wanted, he would need the energy to be there for the aftermath.

Chapter Text

Tony sat with Morgan on his lap, cuddling her close, with Pepper’s eyes on them both. Happy had made a run into town to the store to give them privacy for this conversation, but he’d made them swear not to make the call—if they decided they could do it without hurting Morgan—until he got back. He wanted to be there for whatever happened, be it what Tony would call a miracle or a defeat.

“So, Peter won’t talk to me?” Morgan asked slowly.

“He probably won’t,” Tony admitted. “But we think he’ll be listening.”

She frowned, her small brow pinched and lips a thin line. “But if I’m magic, he will.”

Pepper picked up Morgan's hand and said, "Honey, this isn't about you succeeding or failing. There's a chance that talking to you might make Peter feel better, but it might not, and that won't be your fault. Peter is very tired and very sad, and that makes him feel like not talking."

Tony pressed a kiss to his daughter’s cheek and said, “You are magic, Maguna, and it’s already done something special for Peter. We don’t know if it can do it again. And Mommy’s right—if it doesn’t work, it’s not your fault.

“But if it does work, can I see him?” she asked. “Will we be able to play again?”

“Not right away,” Tony said.

That was something he couldn't promise as they had no idea what Peter’s state of mind would be. He would not allow his children to be together until he knew they were both ready.

"What happened to him?" Morgan asked. "He was happy when we played, and then he went on vacation and came back tired and sad."

Tony buried his face in her hair, drawing in the scent of the strawberry shampoo they used for her. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her even a little of what had happened to Peter, not without devastating and terrifying her, but he had nothing else to give in place of the truth.

“Peter is sick,” Pepper said, giving her hand a brief squeeze.

"Like the flu?" Morgan asked. "When I had the flu, you gave me medicine to make me feel better. Have you given him medicine, Daddy?”

“No. There isn’t the right kind of medicine for Peter’s kind of sick.”

Morgan looked down at her lap, her lip caught between her teeth. "This isn't fair. It took so long for him to come back, all my years, and then I had to wait to see him because he was tired, and now he's tired again and sick and…” Her small hands squeezed into fists. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Tony agreed, a lump forming in his throat.

He was more than aware that it wasn't fair. His son had been through so much, done so much that had hurt him, and now it was hurting his daughter, too. The very first time he held her in his arms, he'd vowed that he'd never let anything or anyone hurt her, but it was happening now, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He was an Avenger, supposedly a hero, and a father, but nothing he could do, no technology he could create, was going to solve this problem for his children.

Morgan looked up, determination on her face. “I want to talk to him, even if he won’t talk to me.”

Tony kissed her and said, “That’s great, Maguna. Thank you.”

"Are you sure, honey?" Pepper asked. "Because no one—not me, Daddy, or even Peter—will be angry if you don't. This might be hard, it might make you sad, and none of us want that."

Morgan shrugged her small shoulders. “Peter’s sad, too, so I need to  try.”

Tony looked down at his little girl, the child he would find a way to give the moon and stars if she asked, and felt a swell of love and pride. She was four years old, too young to have to face any of this, yet she was showing more strength than he had been able to summon himself. She was far stronger and wiser than her years explained.

It had to be Pepper's influence and perhaps the circumstances of her life. She'd lived knowing she had a brother that she'd never met and had no hope of ever meeting. Peter, a face on a photograph, a person on YouTube videos and Friday’s footage, had been her brother from the beginning, and she'd loved him. That had increased hundredfold when she met him. Then he'd been gone again, lost from them all. Perhaps that had made her age too soon.

It was all dependent on her now. She was the only hope they had of reaching Peter and bringing him back, and that was a lot of responsibility for a child to have put on them.

Tony hated that it was on her, but he believed she was strong enough for it. He would never allow it to happen otherwise. He had told Pepper he wouldn’t hurt her to help Peter, and he meant it. He didn’t believe this would hurt her, though. The worst-case scenario was that Peter wouldn’t talk back. Morgan could handle that, Tony was sure, but he didn’t know if he could. If this didn’t work, if they couldn’t get Peter back, what would they be able to try next?

Tony's only hope was that the love Peter felt for Morgan would be enough. He was going to cling to that because, without it, he had no hope at all.

xXx

Bucky threw the scraps of bread into the lake and said, “And now we’ve got to wait, bud.”

Peter gave nothing in return, not even a twitch, but Bucky didn’t allow it to get him down. He just patted Peter’s hand where it was resting on his lap. 

He stared out at the lake, hoping for something special, and he grinned as the geese appeared above. They flew in perfect v-formation, honking, then landing in the water with gliding splashes.

“Look,” he said, voice soft. “They’re here.”

He put his arm around Peter and held him close as he watched the geese feed. There was no sign that Peter was aware of them, but Bucky was still pleased he’d been able to lure them there for him.

“They’re hungry,” he said. “Look at them go.”

Two of the geese were squabbling over the scraps, flapping wings and honking at each other. It was amusing to see the show of force in the creatures that were so benign compared to the two people watching them.

He heard the door open behind them, and Steve and Rhodey came out. They looked unusually anxious, but he kept his voice light as he gave Peter a brief squeeze and said, "We've got company, bud."

Rhodey was first to them, his hand falling on Peter’s shoulder as he greeted him, and Steve was a few paces behind.

"Tony called," Rhodey said. "He's spoken to Morgan, and she wants to talk to Peter."

“That’s great!” Bucky said, turning Peter’s face to his to look into his rainbow eyes as she said, “Hear that, bud? Your sister is going to call. You can talk to Morgan.”

He hoped that by using her name, he might get a response, but none came. He patted Peter’s cheek, which was a little closer to rounded now Peter was gaining weight again, and sighed.

“How are we doing this?” he asked.

“We’ve agreed to empty the room a little,” Steve said. “If it works, we don’t want Peter overwhelmed. It’s going to be us three and Wanda.”

Bucky frowned. “Wanda?”

Steve nodded. “I had an idea. I think if Morgan can get Peter out of himself a little, Wanda can connect with him and encourage him to come all the way back. Tony said it only lasted a moment after Morgan’s voice was there last time. We hope that us being there, talking to him, will be enough, but it’s more likely that he’s going to need a little extra encouragement.”

Bucky considered. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He turned his attention to Peter. “You ready to do this, bud?” Peter stared through him, but he smiled and said, “Great.”

Rhodey took Peter's elbow and eased him up from the rock, and they walked back towards the door. Bucky fell into step with Steve, whose brow was furrowed and lips a thin line.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m worried it’s not going to work,” Steve admitted. “And I’m worried about what that’s going to do to you, Tony, and Rhodey. I care about Queens, I do, but it’s not the same kind of connection you guys have with him. I don’t want you getting depressed if it fails.”

Bucky smiled. “Thanks, Steve, but you don’t need to worry about me. Yeah, I care about Peter, I love him, but I’m not going to break if it doesn’t work. I’ll just be there for him until we find a different way to get him back.”

Steve eyed him a moment. “You know, Queens brings out the best in you. I’ve not seen you with anyone like this since…” He shrugged. “I don’t think I ever have.”

Bucky ducked his head, cheeks heating under Steve’s admiration. “He’s a special kid.”

“He is. It’s good to see you connecting. After everything that happened to you—Hydra, living on the run, the time in Wakanda—no one would blame you if you shut down completely.”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’d blame myself if I didn’t do what I canfor Peter. He needs me in a way I’ve never been needed in my life before. He’s completely dependent on us.” He bit his lip. “It’s what comes next that’s going to be hard.”

Steve frowned. “You mean if we can’t get him back?”

"No," Bucky said, then pushed open the door and walked through to the living area without explaining further.

His deep fear was that the connection he had with Peter was going to be lost, because Peter was unaware of it forming, t had only happened since he’d shut down. When they got Peter back, however it happened, Bucky was going to be a practical stranger to him again. That was going to be tough when he’d want nothing more than to be there for him again.

He shook off the thought and took in the room. Wanda and Rhodey were on either side of Peter on the couch. Rhodey was toying with his phone in his hand and looking anxious.

Bucky sat on the coffee table, opposite Peter, and leaned over to squeeze his knee. “You ready for this, bud?”

Peter gave no reaction, but Rhodey nodded and said, “Of course he is. Pete’s a champ.”

Steve sat beside Bucky, heaved a deep breath, and said, “Let’s do this.”

xXx

Rhodey picked up his phone and said, "Home Base, connect to Tony. One-sided video. They don't see us."

“Understood. Call connecting.”

Bucky took the phone and held it on his lap in front of Peter. Rhodey saw Tony's caller ID icon be replaced by the man himself. 

Tony’s face broke into a wide smile which also carried a lot of relief, possibly the reassurance of seeing his son after two nights apart. "Hey, Pete. How are you doing?"

“We’re doing good,” Rhodey said. “And we’re ready.”

“Okay, here she comes. Friday, one-side video now.” He looked over his shoulder and said, “Morgan, Peter’s here.”

Morgan came into view, a little slower than her usual bouncing pace, and Rhodey saw she looked nervous. Pepper was right behind her, sitting close to Tony as Morgan settled on his lap and leaned back against his chest.

“Is Petey there?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, he’s listening,” Tony said. “Say whatever you want.”

Rhodey leaned a little closer to Peter and fixed his eyes on his face, wanting to see it happen—if it did.

“Hey, Petey,” Morgan said tentatively. “Daddy says you’re tired and sad, so won’t talk, but I can talk to you and you’ll listen. I… uh… Gerald!” She seemed to become more animated. “He broke out of the paddock and went to the lake. He didn’t go swimming, he was only thirsty, but Daddy had to chase him for ages before he could get him back inside. He says he’s going to need to go to Wakandy to get some viba… vibri… something special to make a new paddock so he can’t break out again.”

"Yes," Bucky breathed.

Tony pressed a kiss to Morgan's hair and said, "Keep going, honey."

Rhodey could see it, too. Peter’s eyes were clearing, awareness coming back, and his lips were pressing together in a thin line. It was as if he was in pain, though, and Rhodey’s heart began to race.

“Pete,” he said cautiously. “You’re okay.”

"You are," Bucky said, placing his hand on Peter's knee and squeezing it. "We're here."

“Wanda,” Steve said. “Be ready.”

Wanda nodded and placed her hands on Peter’s head. Red light began to dance from her fingers, spreading over his hair and face as he began to tremble.

“And Mommy made a suit for Albert so he looks like you," Morgan went on. "She made it with her…"

Rhodey tuned Morgan out and fixed his attention on Peter and Wanda. Peter was shaking, his jaw clenched, but Rhodey saw a storm of emotion in his eyes that made him sure he was fighting to come back.

Wanda’s jaw was tight. "Peter!" she said urgently.

At the same moment, Peter's eyes squeezed closed, and he spoke in a groan. "No… Please…"

“It’s okay, Pete,” Rhodey said, putting his arm around his shoulders. “We’re here.”

Peter’s hands came to his face and pressed his fingers in hard, speaking in a plea. “Help me.”

Wanda gave a small gasp. “I’m here, Peter. I’ll help you.”

There was a pulse of red light from her hands, into Peter, and the room erupted with noise and cries of shock.

Peter jumped to his feet, his eyes wide and darting around the room. At the same moment, they were all thrown back by a pulse of energy. Wanda and Rhodey were thrown sideways against the arms of the couch, Bucky and Steve skidded backward off of the coffee table, shoulders hitting the couch behind, and Bruce and Sam raced into the room.

“Peter,” Bucky said cautiously, hands held in front of him as he got to his feet. “You’re okay.”

Peter looked at him, eyes full of emotion and unquestionable awareness. His voice was a moan of pain as he asked, "Why would you do this?"

“Do what?” Rhodey asked, bewildered. “You’re okay, Pete. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

Peter shook his head and looked over to Wanda, who was getting to her feet, looking back at him with caution. "Why would you do this to me?" he asked. "I helped you. I told you he felt love."

Wanda's eyes filled with horror. “I thought you wanted me to.”

“No,” Peter said, the word catching on a sob. “I was safer there.”

“You’re safe here, Rhodey said, getting close enough to touch him. He put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and turned him. “No one is going to hurt you.”

Peter’s eyes met his, seeming to hold so much pain that it stole Rhodey’s breath. “But I’m not safe for you.”

“You are,” Rhodey said, his hands coming to Peter’s face and cupping it.

“He’s right,” Bucky agreed, getting to his feet and reaching for Peter. “The fact you don’t think so means you are. You’re in control, kid.”

Peter looked at him, his lip trembling, and then pulled away from Rhodey and ran out of the room. Rhodey hurried after him in time to see the door to Peter’s bedroom slam closed and the lock engage.

He placed his hand on the door for a moment, head bowed as he tried to find the words to say to Peter to help, and then shook his head and went back to where the others were dusting themselves off and sitting down.

He dropped onto the couch and put his head in his hands. “What happened, Wanda? What did you do?”

Wanda looked as though she wanted to cry. “I could hear him in there. It sounded like he was fighting; he was asking for help.” She bit her lip. “I thought he meant me, but I think now that he was talking to The Stones—he wanted them to help him hide. But when I felt him there, I just caught him and…”

“Dragged him out of himself,” Bucky growled. “Yeah, easy mistake to make.”

"It wasn't her fault, Buck," Steve said, placing a hand on his arm. "This is good—Queens is back, which is what we all wanted.

“All of us but Peter apparently,” Rhodey said. “Damn. Poor kid.” He raised his head. “Friday, what’s Peter doing?”

"Peter is crying," Friday reported. "I suspect an anxiety attack is impending."

Bucky cursed and got to his feet. “We can’t leave him like this.”

“I think we have to,” Steve said. “He needs space.” When Bucky opened his mouth to argue, he rushed on. “He’s vulnerable and scared right now. He said he doesn’t feel safe with us, so we’ve got to give him space to get used to us.”

“Peter is now unaware,” Friday reported.

Bucky’s head jerked up. “He’s what? You mean he’s shut down again?”

There was a pause, and Rhodey's heart slammed against his ribs.

“No. This is what Boss called a ‘Stones Moment.’ I believe it means he’s communing with The Infinity Stones.”

Rhodey relaxed a little and said, "Hopefully, they can get through to him when we can't."

“You think they can?” Bucky asked, his doubt evident.

Rhodey shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He pressed his fingertips to the corners of his eyes. “I’ve got to call Tony back. He’s going to be losing his mind.”

He bent and picked up his phone from the floor. It didn't seem damaged by the force of The Stones’ blow—Stark Phones were tough.

He tapped the screen, said, “Home Base, call Tony,” and braced himself for his friend’s worry and pain. 

Chapter Text

Peter was lost.

No. Lost was the wrong word. Peter was hiding.

But in this place, surrounded by the rainbow lights, he was safe; he couldn't hurt anyone. 

He didn’t know how long it had been in real time, but it felt like forever to him. He didn’t mind that, though. As long as he was here, everyone he cared about was safe. The world was protected. Ross couldn’t reach him again.

A voice came into his place, as they sometimes did, muffled, but it grew clearer, echoing in his ears. He flinched. He knew that voice, and he knew what had happened the last time he’d heard it—how it had almost taken him away from this place of safety and protection for others.

“Peter… Daddy…” Morgan said, the words coming in and out but so loud. “…says you’re tired and sad… talk to you…”

“No,’ Peter moaned weakly, curling into a ball. “Please don’t, Mo. I love you, I love you so much, but please don’t do this to me.”

“You can do this, Peter,” Mind said, and Peter looked up to see him standing in front of him.

‘I can’t,” he moaned. “Don’t make me.”

"I can't make you do anything. If I could, I would never have let you use us like this.”

Morgan’s voice went on choppily. “…went to the lake… didn’t… go swimming… thirsty, but Daddy…”

Peter flinched and tangled his fingers in his hair. “Make her stop,” he begged. “Please, someone, make her stop.”

But it was too late; just like last time, Peter could feel his mind clearing. Shapes formed outside of the light, moved through it and came at him. One was Bucky, and the other was Steve. They were in front of him, but he couldn't make out their expressions in the round moons of their blurred faces.

“Please don’t make me,” he said. “I can’t.”

Morgan’s voice continued, talking about how she’d found bugs and wanted them as pets, and Peter felt the draw out of the voice grow even stronger. It pulled at his chest in a way similar to how he felt when people were reaching for him. This time there was a difference. It seemed to pull him out of this place and to them. Two were stronger, and they seemed to connect to the voices that spoke next.

“Pete, you’re okay.” That was Rhodey, and he spoke with a need that matched the pulse in Peter’s chest.

“You are.” Bucky now—the pull was tugging at him with his words and pressure on his shoulder. "We’re here.”

“Wanda.” A new voice. A wary one. Steve? “Be ready.”

Then there was a new sensation, warmth around his head, and Wanda's form became clear beside him, as did the sounds. Peter began to shake uncontrollably.

“And Mommy made a suit for Albert so he looks like you." Morgan's voice came clearer now. “She made it with her special scarves. She says he'll be the best-dressed teddy in the world. And the most expensive. But that’s okay because Daddy said he’ll buy her the whole store if she wants.”

The warmth around his head grew stronger, as did the pull to come out of himself. He felt he was being torn in two. Part of him was fighting to stay, to be safe and to protect, but the other part of him wanted to be there. He missed them all so much.

That was wrong, though. Just because there were people he loved out there that he wanted to see, it didn’t mean it was the right thing to do to be with them. The fact he loved them made it even more important that he stay away. He was dangerous, a weapon.

“You’re not,” Power said, annoyance in his voice. “You are in control.”

“Please help me,” he moaned.

“We can’t,” Soul said, her voice mournful. “This is what has to happen.”

“Peter!” Wanda’s voice was urgent, and Peter struggled to get away from it and the draw.

His hands came to his face, and he dug in his fingers as hard as he could, trying to ground himself in this place and not the outside that wanted him. “Help me,” he begged The Stones.

“No,” Space said implacably. 

Wanda's face cleared in front of him, and she said, “I’m here, Peter. I’ll help you."

Peter shook his head, and then the red light pulsed from her and into him. It flooded his mind, and he thought he might have screamed as the force flew from his chest like a punch.

His eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet. The people around him—Steve and Bucky, Rhodey and Wanda—were thrown away. He was really back; he could see, hear, and smell everything. His hands were fisted on his heaving chest, as if that could stop the power from being used again. He felt a swell of desperate sadness as he recognized the fact he was truly there, no longer safe and protected—he was now a threat.

“Peter,” Rhodey said, taking a step towards him with his hands held up. “You’re okay.”

Peter looked at him, seeing his friend’s face, his stress, and he spoke in a moan that held all the pain he was feeling. “Why would you do this?”

Why would they drag him back? Why would they let Wanda do it? He wasn’t safe around them anymore. This was more than the threat of The Stones that had worried him for so long. This was so much bigger. He wasn’t in control of his own mind and power anymore.

Rhodey looked bewildered. “Do what? You’re okay. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

Peter shook his head. That wasn't what mattered. He was safe, but they weren't. He looked to Wanda, who was getting to her feet, her eyes on him with what looked like concern that didn't belong.

“Why would you?" he asked, unable to keep the accusation from his voice. "I helped you. I told you he felt love." He’d given her something, a gift, and she’d stolen him out of his safe place and dragged him back to a place he could never relax.

Wanda looked horrified, and he thought, at last, that she understood what she had done. “I thought you wanted me to.”

“No,” Peter sobbed, unable to hold it in. “I was safer there.”

“You’re safe here,” Rhodey said emphatically. He came closer, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders and turning him so that they were face to face. Peter could feel the pressure against his chest of Rhodey reaching for him. “No one is going to hurt you.”

Peter met his eyes, and the pain rose in him again. "But I’m not safe for you.”

“You are,” Rhodey said, cupping his face.

“He’s right,” Bucky agreed, reaching for Peter and then dropping his hand as if it was weighted. “The fact you don’t think so means you are. You’re in control, kid.”

Peter's lip trembled, and he felt tears threatening. He couldn't bear this. He felt like he'd been violated on some deep level of himself that had never been reached before. Being here, with them, made him feel like he was on fire. He had to get away.

He pulled away from Rhodey, skirted around Bucky, and ran from the room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and then staggered over to the bed and fell onto it, curling into a ball. Sobs ripped from him, and tears streamed from his eyes. All he could hear was the rushing of his pulse in his head, and he gasped for air. 

They had done this to him, and now they were all in danger.

“You are in control,” Mind said. “You would not be here otherwise.”

Peter spoke through his teeth. "I am here because Wanda dragged me here and you didn't stop her!"

“You know what, I am done!” Power said angrily. “We are talking about this. Now.”

Peter felt himself tipping back, and then he was back in the room with The Stones. They were all seated, and Peter was, too, but he lurched to his feet at once and slammed his hands down on the table. “Why would you do this?” he shouted. “Why did you let it happen?”

Power rose to his feet, too, and his own hands slapped down on the table. “Because you wanted it! Maximoff never could have done it otherwise!”

“Wanted? You think I…” Peter sputtered. “This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes, it is!" Power roared. "Dammit, kid, when are you going to stop doubting yourself? We have said it, and you have proved it—you're Worthy! We chose you for a reason, and I am sick of this crap.”

“Calm down,” Mind said firmly, “both of you.”

Power picked up his chair and dropped back into it. "Seriously, though, what is it going to take to make the dumbass believe us?"

Peter stared at him a moment and then righted his chair and sat down. “You left me because I wasn’t Worthy.”

"Because you gave us no choice," Space stated. "You weren't willing to defend yourself, and if they had managed to overpower your mind and made you act on their demands, the threat that you posed would have been massive."

"I couldn't defend myself—they would have killed Morgan. Do you think I wanted to go through that? How deep were you buried when you left me? Did you know how scared I was, how much it hurt to be shocked over and over, starved, and never able to get even a little water without waiting to be doused with it so they could hurt me all over again? Do you know how those words felt, rooting deeper and deeper into my mind?”

“Yes,” Soul whispered. “And we couldn’t stop it. Do you know how that felt for us to be helpless?”

Peter’s rapid breaths and racing thoughts stopped, and he stared at her. He never imagined that they would actually feel anything. They were The Infinity Stones—endless and omnipotent. He was just the one they’d chosen to do good with them. Why would they care about anything but the threat he posed?

“You don’t know,” she said with a small smile.

“Why would he?” Power said. “He’s too busy angsting over crap that’s not going to happen.”

"Peter," Soul said. "Your friends aren't the only ones that care about you. We are sentient, and you are Worthy. That means something to us that you can't even imagine."

Peter hid his face in his hands and just breathed for a moment, focusing only on bringing the air in and out of his lungs.

“You stopped protecting me,” he said, lowering his hands and looking from face to face. “You could have stopped Wanda.”

“Because you’d hidden long enough,” Time said calmly. “You were ready to come back, and you needed to. We allowed you to move through the worst of the pain and suffering as your body recovered, and we gave your mind time to heal, but it was the right thing to do to stop letting you use us now.”

“We would have done it sooner,” Power said, still glaring at him. “But you are a stubborn idiot, and we didn't want to hurt you, which we would have if we'd used force. We needed Maximoff’s help. And now you’re not going back. Like it or not, kid, you're here, and you're staying."

Peter squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t want to stay.”

“Tough luck,” Power said ruthlessly. “You don’t get to choose anymore. We’re not going to help.”

Mind held up a hand. “We will not help you hide, Peter, but we will help you feel safe. If it helps you to know it, we will be on guard. If the conditioning comes back—”

“Which it won’t,” Space interjected. “Since the only one that knows the words here is Bucky Barnes, and he's already vowed never to use them." He smirked at Peter's surprised look. "Just because you weren’t listening to what was happening around you, it doesn’t mean we weren’t.”

Power smirked. "Yeah, you're in for a couple of shocks, kid. Stark is pretty huggy now, and you and Barnes have a real good thing going on."

“We do?” Peter asked.

Mind nodded. “You actually do. You are probably unaware of it, but Sergeant Barnes was reaching for you as much as Colonel Rhodes when you were coming back to yourself, and he has been for a while.”

Peter found himself smiling in spite of himself. “Uh… I guess that’s good. I mean, he seems nice and all.”

Soul smiled. “Yes, he is, and he loves you very much.”

“And he will be able to ease your fears,” Reality said. “He’s been in the same position you were in with the conditioning. His lasted a lot longer, was much stronger, and he had to fight harder to break free of it. The fact that you were able to break it and turn the gun on yourself was a true show of strength and power—power that has nothing to do with us.”

Peter scoffed. “Sure. More power. Great.”

“Okay, since my supply of patience is all used up, and you’re still hiding here, it’s time you got your ass back out there and spoke to them,” Power said.

"Wait," Mind said, holding up a hand that made Power scowl.  "There is something we need to say. We will be on guard. If the words are used, you lose control of yourself, we will withdraw again, and the threat will only be the strength you possess now.”

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. “You promise?”

“Yes,” Mind said patiently. “We can do that.”

“But we’re not going to need to,” Space said confidently. “You are—”

“Worthy,” Peter said. “I heard you.”

“Actually, I was going to say strong,” Space replied. “But you’re Worthy, too.”

Peter sighed. “Thanks.”

He felt exhausted and overwhelmed. Though he felt safer knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take The Stones’ power and use it on someone else—or the world—he was still a threat. He was Spider-Man, with all the strength that came with it. If he was controlled again, he could hurt someone.

“Right,” Power said. “Get the hell out of here before I kick your ass out.”

“I don’t think I—”

Before Peter could finish, Power was flicking his fingers, and Peter felt himself being thrown back off his tipping chair. He gasped, finding himself back in his bedroom with distant voices coming from beyond the door.

He could hear his name being mentioned, worry and fear in the voices, but he didn’t know if it was fear of or for him.

He rolled onto his side, drew up his knees, and started to cry again.

xXx

Rhodey came back into the living room, dropped his phone down on the table, and said, “I managed to persuade Tony to stay home a little longer. It wasn't easy, but Morgan's upset which helped sway him."

“Poor man’s probably never been so torn in his life,” Sam said.

Rhodey grunted. “You think? Both his kids need him more than anything right now, and he can only be with one of them.”

That had been the crux of how he’d been able to persuade Tony to stay home. Morgan was upset, scared that something had happened to Peter after the call that had cut the moment everything went to hell. She’d heard Peter sounding distressed, and Pepper had apparently whisked her away, but not in time to shield her from it completely.

Rhodey’s heart ached when he thought of what the little girl would be feeling now after what happened. At least she had her parents with her. Tony was committed to staying at least one more night, and Pepper would be there. Peter was alone right now, though that was apparently what he wanted.

Rhodey had never felt more torn either. He wanted to be with Peter, helping him, but the locked door between them was a clear message that he wanted to be alone. Peter had been able to make no choices for weeks, not since before he’d been taken by Ross, and this was a choice he could make—to be alone. Rhodey was split between what he wanted and what Peter wanted, which need to serve. Ultimately, Peter was the one that got to decide, unless he was in danger, and he wasn’t now.

Rhodey sank down onto the couch and said, “Tony has also asked that you all give Peter space until he gets back tomorrow." That hadn't been exactly what he said, there were a lot more curses in Tony's words and threats of what would happen if they upset Peter again, Wanda especially. “He wants me and Bucky to take care of whatever he needs.”

Barnes nodded, a relieved smile twitching the corners of his mouth for a moment before it became a thin line of worry again.

“He’s angry,” Bruce stated.

Before Rhodey could answer, Bucky spoke up. “Do you blame him?”

“I thought I was helping,” Wanda said, no defensiveness in her voice, only sadness. “He asked for help.”

“He did,” Bruce said, planting a huge hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “And we all would have done the same thing.”

“Would we?” Bucky asked. “I think I’d have asked him a couple questions before I ripped him out of his own head.”

Steve shot him a sharp look, and Bucky stared back at him, unrepentant.

"None of us knew what was really happening, Buck," Steve said. "We thought he was trying to get back. You did, too."

Bucky nodded. "I did, and I wanted him back, but I wouldn't have taken a kid whose mind had been violated again and again and dragged him out of himself. He felt safe there, and now he's back and scared."

“Why didn’t you stop me then?” Wanda asked, her eyebrow raised in challenge. 

“We all messed up,” Steve said. “None of us knew what was going on in his head because we had no way to know. Wanda did what she thought was right at the time. And this is the best-case scenario. Queens is back, which is what we all wanted.”

Rhodey sighed. “It is, but…” He squeezed his eyes closed. “Friday, how’s Peter?”

“He is aware again and currently crying,” Friday reported. “I do not detect an anxiety attack currently. However, I have been programmed to remind you that Peter will need to be fed soon.”

Bucky groaned. “Dammit. Bruce, how long can we leave it?”

Bruce rubbed his chin. “Theoretically, we can leave it a day without real harm, but he will need sustenance for his health. He will be uncomfortable within a few hours without a feed, too.”

"Then we give him an hour," Bucky said. "Let him just work through it for a while and breathe, and then we'll take him in a feed. Actually…" His eyes snapped to Bruce. "Can he eat regular food while he's still got the tube?"

"Absolutely," Bruce said. "It won't hurt him, though we might want to keep the portions small at first. It was never a physical reason for him to be unable to eat solid food. I suggest something soft and not too seasoned."

Rhodey smiled in spite of himself and said, "Mac and cheese. I'll make it." It was what he had planned to be Peter's meal the day he came home. It was delayed by weeks, times of pain and suffering for them all, but he was finally going to be able to give it to him. He would create a meal for the kid he loved, and he would see him eat it, at last.

Then maybe, just maybe, he could talk to Peter again and make him understand he was safe and home. He didn’t think that was something he could do alone. He had a feeling it was going to take Bucky, who had once feared himself, too, to reach Peter.  

Chapter Text

Bucky leaned against the counter as Rhodey opened the oven door and peeked in at the dish he’d prepared.

“It’s ready,” he said. “You want to go get Pete?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You think I should?”

“Why not?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s not going to trust me. Everything built between us happened while he was gone. He hardly knows me.”

Rhodey set the potholder down and considered. “That’s true, but I think there will still be a connection there. When Mind and Power spoke to us, it was because he’d connected with you. I don’t know what it was like for him when he was gone, not really, but I’m willing to bet there’s some residual awareness of it. And if there isn’t, now’s the time to create it.”

Bucky smiled. He wanted a chance to build something of what he felt for Peter on both sides. Maybe there would be nothing there when he went to him, but they had time to create a connection again.

“I’ll be right back.” He went through to Peter’s room and hesitated outside the door. He took a breath, knocked, and said, "Peter, it's me, Bucky. Can I come talk to you?”

He heard a sigh beyond the door and then footsteps padding across the room and the click of the lock being disengaged. There was a pause, and then the door opened.

Peter looked terrible. His rainbow eyes were red and swollen from tears, he looked rumpled and tired, and his hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

Bucky had combed it for him that morning. He remembered sitting Peter on the bed to do it, talking to him about what they could do together that day. That was the last time he’d ever need to do something like that for him. It was a strange feeling to know it wouldn’t happen again. It was almost a bereavement, to lose that need and purpose for his care.

“Hey,” Peter said quietly.

Bucky smiled. “Hey, bud.”

Peter blinked. “Bud…”

Bucky felt awkward at the slip, remembering that was a name for Peter before, not now. “Yeah, sorry,” he said. “It’s just a habit.”

He felt the urge to embrace Peter as he once would have but pinned his hands at his sides. 

Peter gave him a piercing look and then rubbed his chest, right over his breastbone. “It means something,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“It was just something I called you when you were… you know.”

Peter nodded. “I think I need to thank you for a lot.”

“No,” Bucky said quickly. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I was happy to do everything I did for you. You’re a special kid.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile.

A silence fell between them, and then Bucky got himself together and said, "So, Rhodey's made something for you to eat. It's just the three of us," he added quickly when Peter looked anxious. "The others are giving us space. We were tube feeding you before, and we can again if you prefer, but we thought you’d like something real.”

Peter touched the spot on his hoodie above where the feeding port was placed, and he said, "Yeah. I found the tube." He ran a hand through his hair. "I would like something to eat, though. I guess it's been a while."

“It has. You were lost for three weeks, and we got you back five weeks ago.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Two months! Wow. I didn’t know. It felt different to me. I didn’t feel time passing at all after I was rescued. Before that, I lost track.”

Bucky could relate to that, and he could see the haunting memories on Peter’s face, so he acted without thought. He put his arm around Peter’s shoulders, just as he would before, and said, “Let’s get you fed.”

He felt a slight hesitation in Peter’s steps before he allowed himself to be guided into the kitchen, where Rhodey was placing three bowls of mac and cheese on the table. 

“Pete!” he said happily when they appeared. “You hungry?”

Peter smiled, though it looked a little forced, and said, “Yeah. Thanks.”

He moved out from under Bucky’s arm and sat down at one of the set places. Bucky filled a jug with water and poured three glasses. He set them at each place, and Peter picked his up and took a sip. 

His eyes widened, and he said, “Whoa! That feels so….”

“We’ve not been able to get you to drink anything,” Bucky said. “We brushed your teeth and used these swab things in your mouth, but we couldn’t connect with you enough to get you to drink anything.”

Peter's face fell, and he muttered, "I'm sorry you had to do all that for me."

“No,” Rhodey said firmly, taking his seat beside Peter. “You don’t have to apologize for anything that happened or what we had to do. None of us minded caring for you for even a minute.”

Peter's cheeks colored, and he asked, "Was it a team effort?"

Bucky knew what he was thinking—how much of his life had been exposed to others, who had taken him to the bathroom.

“Me and Tony, Bucky and Steve,” Rhodey said. 

Peter lowered his eyes. “Okay.”

Bucky took his seat and started to fork up the food. It was good, and he told Rhodey, who looked pleased and then watched Peter as he tried his own.

Peter smiled and said, “It really is good, Rhodey. Thank you.”

Rhodey beamed. “I’m glad you like it. It’s my specialty.”

They ate in silence for a while, and then Rhodey cleared his throat and said, "So, you want to watch a movie later?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow and gave Peter a pointed look, indicating that everyone at once might be a bad idea.

Rhodey shook his head and went on. "Sam, Steve, Bruce, and Wanda have claimed the kitchen for poker night, so I thought we could chill together."

“What do you think, bud?” Bucky asked. “Whatever you want. We could continue the Star Wars movies.”

A small smile tugged at Peter's lips. "You've been watching Star Wars, and I missed it? Damn."

Rhodey’s eyes shone with triumph. “We can start over, Pete. We don’t mind.”

Peter nodded and took another bite. He chewed slowly and then set down his  fork and picked up his water. He sipped at it and then said, seeming to be forcing the words out, “Is Tony coming back soon?”

“Tomorrow,” Rhodey said. “But he’ll come now if you want him to.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “No. I don’t want him back yet. If he’s here… I don’t want to hurt him.”

Bucky set down his fork and said, “You’re not going to hurt anyone, bud. Do you know I was programmed, too?”

“Yeah,” Peter murmured. “The Stones said something about it.”

“Well, my programming was much deeper than yours, and it lasted decades. It was broken by Steve, and I was clear of it for two years. The only reason I slipped back again was because someone used the trigger words on me." He reached out and patted Peter's tense arm. "I am the only one that knows even some of the words for you, and I will never say them. You're safe until we can get the words out of your head. And we’re going to find a way.”

Peter stared at him a moment, seeming to be staring deep into him. “Really?”

Bucky nodded firmly. “Yes, I guarantee it. You’re safe.”

Peter stared down at his plate for a moment, his brow furrowed, and then he said, “Do you think Tony would mind if I called him?”

Rhodey chuckled. "Mind? I don't think anything could make him happier right now than talking to you. He'd be here now, but I persuaded him to stay another night at home. Morgan needed him, and I thought you might need space."

“Morgan…” Peter bit his lip. “I’d like to talk to her, too. I think I must have freaked her out. She was on the phone, wasn’t she? That’s how I heard her voice.”

“Yes,” Bucky said, squeezing his arm again. “We needed a way to connect with you, and it had come close when you heard her voice before.”

Rhodey leaned forward. “We didn’t know what Wanda was going to do, Pete. It wasn’t the plan.  She was just supposed to connect with you and encourage you to come back. We’d never have done that to you knowingly.”

Peter sighed. “I guess it wasn’t fair on you for me to be gone so long, not when you had to take care of me.”

“None of us minded what we had to do,” Bucky said. “We were just worried about you. We all wanted you back, but it shouldn’t have happened like that. It should have been your choice.”

Peter stared down at his hands, which were fumbling restlessly with the front of his hoodie. It was strange to see that familiar gesture in Peter again. Bucky had thought it would disappear when he came back.

"I don't think I would ever have come back otherwise," Peter said, his voice so quiet Rhodey had to lean forward to hear him. "I was so scared. I still am in a way. The Stones said they won't let me use them if I'm programmed again, but even without them, just as Spider-Man, I’m strong. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He swallowed hard. “I know you said I won’t, and it was a long time for you, but it’s not something you can really promise. I just feel… It was safer for you when I was gone.”

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but Rhodey held up a hand, and he fell silent.

"Maybe it was safer," Rhodey said. "But it wasn't better. Seeing you like that hurt us. You weren't you. We were all trying so hard to help you. When you connected with Morgan the first time, it was like…God… I can't even say how happy it made me."

“Made all of us," Bucky interjected. "When they started telling us what we needed to do …" He snapped his teeth together. He'd almost told Peter about The Infinity Stones talking through him.

He hoped the slip would pass unnoticed, but Peter frowned and said, “Who told you?”

Rhodey sighed. “The Stones. Mind spoke to Tony once when he was sleeping, and he came back with Power one time through you.”

Bucky expected a negative reaction from Peter—perhaps anger at being violated or fear that it would happen again—but Peter merely looked embarrassed. “You spoke to Power? How did that go?”

Rhodey chuckled. “He tore into us—told us we were stupid for not working out what you needed ourselves.”

"He wasn't that helpful either," Bucky added. "He didn't give us any answers, though that was my fault in the end." He grimaced. "I lost my temper and freaked you out, which lost his hold on you."

Peter frowned, his hand moving to his chest again, touching that same spot. “I think I remember that. I remember being scared, like I was losing my control over where I was.” He sighed. “It was hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said repentantly. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but we were desperate, and he had the answers but wasn’t giving them.”

Peter's hand moved back to his hoodie, fingers stroking, and he said, "Power's like that. He's the most…"

“Confrontational asshole?” Rhodey suggested.

Peter nodded. “Pretty much. They all have their own ways, personalities. They’re so different from each other, but I don’t know the others like I knew Quill and Doctor Strange. Time isn’t as talkative as Power.”

“No, I imagine Power’s the chatty one,” Bucky said.

Peter smiled. “Definitely.” He pushed his bowl away and said, “It’s really good, but I think I’m full. I’m going to go call Tony.”

“Of course,” Rhodey said. “Take your time. We’ll have Friday line up the movie.”

“Friday is here?” Peter said.

“Yeah, Tony hooked her up after you were gone.”

“Huh. That’s good.” He got to his feet and made his way out of the room.

Bucky heard his door close behind him, and he looked to Rhodey, who was smiling slightly. "That went better than I hoped."

Rhodey nodded. “It did. He’s not himself, he can’t be, but he’s doing better than I dared believe he would be. And he’s going to call Tony. That’s huge. We should give him a head’s up. I’ll text him.

Bucky stood, collected the dishes, and carried them to the sink to clean up. He was feeling good, positive, and Tony was about to get something great.

Despite all the stress and pain of the day, he felt truly happy for the first time in weeks.

xXx

“Got any…” Morgan bit her lip, her eyes darting between the cards in her hand and Tony’s face, “Fives?”

“Go fish,” Tony said. 

She sighed and picked up a card. Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen, his heart skipping as he read Rhodey’s message, and he realized what was coming.

Placing a hand over his racing heart, Tony set down his cards and said, “Maguna, Peter’s going to call in a minute.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s going to call and talk?”

“He is. He might still be a little sad, a little tired, but he’ll talk this time. Do you think you can talk to him?”

“Yes!” She clapped her hands. “I want to, Daddy, I do!”

Tony smiled and kissed her. “Okay. You want to go get Albert to show him?”

She nodded eagerly and ran out of the room. He could hear her chattering to Pepper in the kitchen, telling her what was coming. A moment later, Pepper came back in, brow furrowed, but before she could voice her obvious concerns, Friday was announcing an incoming call from Peter.

"Connect," Tony said, setting his phone down in front of him on the table.

He braced himself, and a moment later, Peter's face filled the screen.

Tony couldn’t hide the wide smile that spread over his face, and his heart seemed to be trying to break from his chest. But his voice was calm, natural, as he said, “Hey, kid.”

Peter smiled. “Hey, Tony.”

“How are you doing?”

Peter shrugged. “I ate dinner with Bucky and Rhodey, so that was good.”

Before Tony could ask another question, Morgan was running to him, her teddy clutched in her hand. She dropped onto Tony’s lap and beamed at the hologram displaying Peter’s face. “Petey!” she said excitedly. “Hi!”

Peter smiled, and it looked genuine. “Hey, Mo.”

“Look what I got!” she said, waving Albert in front of her. “He’s Albert. He was my teddy, but now he’s yours. Do you like his suit? It’s just like your Spider-Peter one. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter said enthusiastically.

“Can I come give it to you?” she asked, wriggling with excitement on Tony’s lap.

Peter’s face fell. “Not just yet, Mo. I am a bit sick, and I don’t want to make you sick, too. But I promise, as soon as I’m better, I’ll tell you so you can come, and we’ll do whatever you want.”

“Can we play the Lego game on the computer?”

“We can.”

“And can you show me your magic?”

Peter smiled again. “I can. I’ll practice so I can do something really special for you. What would you like to see most?”

Morgan considered a long moment, and then she said, "Can you make a rainbow?"

Peter paused a moment, and Tony guessed he was listening to The Stones, then he nodded and said with obvious pleasure, “I can make a triple rainbow.”

Morgan’s breath caught. “Three whole rainbows just for me?”

“Just for you,” Peter said.

Morgan nodded, pleased, and said, "Are you still sad and tired, Peter?"

Peter’s face fell. “You know, I am a little, but I already feel much better now I can talk to you. Do you think I can call you again tomorrow?”

“Yes!” she said eagerly. “You can call all the time. It’s okay if it’s early because Friday will wake me, and I know how to make the phone work."

Peter chuckled. “I won’t call too early since I’m very tired, and we don’t want to wake Daddy up when he’s having a really big snore.”

Tony ducked his head and grinned. This felt so good, so normal; his kids were talking, his son sounding like himself again.

The only thing that could have made it better was if he could hold Peter at the same time, touch him, share the love he felt. Without being able to do that, he hugged Morgan a little tighter, taking comfort in the child he could reach and love. 

Morgan giggled. “Yeah, he snores really loud.”

“How about I call before lunch?” Peter suggested. “At eleven o’clock so you know to be ready. And Daddy will definitely be awake then.”

“I’ll ask Friday to tell me when it’s time,” Morgan said.

Peter yawned and covered his mouth, then apologized, "Sorry, Mo.”

“You’re tired,” she stated. “You should have a nap.”

“I should,” he agreed. “I wanted to talk to you first, though. I’ve missed you a lot.”

“I missed you, too,” she said, her voice a little sad now. “And I miss you now. I want to play.”

“As soon as I can, we’ll play,” Peter said, his tone making it a promise.

“It won’t take long,” Tony interjected. “Daddy is looking for something to make Peter feel better.”

“Like magic?” Morgan asked, and when Peter looked puzzled, she said, "Daddy said I had magic that might help you feel better."

Peter smiled, though his eyes looked a little wet. “You did make me feel better, Mo. I felt very bad before, so tired and so sad, but talking to you makes me feel good. I think you have lots of magic.”

Morgan hugged Albert against her chest and leaned back against Tony.

“You should get some sleep, Pete,” Tony said, seeing the slight tremble to Peter’s lip. “I’ll be back tomorrow before dinner. And call anytime.”

Peter nodded and sat up straighter. "Okay. I will. See you tomorrow." He gave a small wave to Morgan, who waved back, and then the call ended.

“He’s better,” Morgan said with obvious happiness. “Isn’t he?”

"Not all the way better, no, but he's better than he was." Tony kissed the top of her head. "And that's because of you, Maguna."

Morgan turned on his lap and put her arms around him. “I’m happy now,” she said. “And you’re happy. You were sad and tired, too, weren’t you, Daddy?”

Tony stared at her, surprised she'd seen what he'd tried so hard to hide. "I was," he agreed. "But it's better now for me, like it is for Peter. I've got you and your brother, and that makes me happy."

She hugged him again, and he buried his face in her hair.

He did have both his children now, one in his arms and one that he could hold tomorrow. There were still things for him to do; he had to find a way to get that programming out of Peter's head, but he would.

Things were better now, and more successes would follow.

Chapter Text

Tony parked beside the Quinjet and threw open the door. As much as he’d enjoyed being home with Morgan and Pepper, how he’d ensured his attention was on them while he was, now he was back, his focus was Peter. He wanted to be with his son, to help him as much as he could. More than anything, he just wanted to hold him and see Peter looking back at him with real awareness.

He got out of the car and rushed towards the door. Inside, he saw Steve, Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky were on the couches, but Bruce and Wanda were absent. 

“Hey, Tone,” Rhodey said with a knowing smile. “How are you doing?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair and spoke in a rush. “Good. Yeah, good. Great. Where’s Pete?”

“In his bedroom,” Rhodey said. “He’s been in there most of the day, but he came out to eat.”

Tony frowned. “Is he talking?”

“Not to us,” Steve said, obvious regret in his voice. “We did what you wanted and stayed away.”

Tony acknowledged that with a nod. It was what he’d wanted, after all. “Is he talking to you, Rhodey?”

Rhodey ran a hand over his hair. "Sometimes. I think he's having a hard day. According to Friday, he's spent a lot of time with The Stones. I don't know if that's some kind of defense mechanism, a way to hide, or if he’s actually doing something.”

Tony didn’t want Peter focusing on The Infinity Stones yet. He wanted him to take care of himself and ignore them until he was in a better place. He ran his hand through his hair and said, “Someone needs to call Helen. I want that tube out of him. We’re not going back there ever again.”

“I’ll make the call,” Rhodey said. “Go see him.”

Tony thanked him, raised a hand, and then left them, heading to Peter’s room. He paused outside the door, knocked, and said, “Pete, it’s me.”

There was no response for a moment, and then Peter replied, “The door’s not locked.”

Tony turned the handle, eased it open, and went in. Peter was sitting on the bed, his legs crisscrossed in front of him. His fingers were moving over the blanket on his lap in a way that reminded him so viscerally of before, when he was gone, that his breath caught and tears welled in his eyes.

Peter stared at him a moment, clearly seeing his weakness, and then forced a smile and said, “It’s okay.”

Tony was furious at himself for reacting like this, crying in front of his kid when he should be celebrating his return, but he couldn't seem to stop it. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his breaths came fast. He kept some modicum of calm, though, managing to seat himself on the bed beside Peter instead of yanking him into his arms the way he wanted.

Peter stared at him a moment, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and then he ducked his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

"No," Tony rasped and then drew a shaky breath. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Peter looked up, still too-thin face flushed with color, and said, “I left you.”

“You did,” Tony agreed. “You left me twice, and it tore me apart both times, but I understand why you had to do it.”

“They would have killed her,” Peter said, breath catching. “They told me and showed me the video of her playing with the sniper’s sights on her. I had to do it. I wanted to tell you, I did, because I was so scared they’d hurt her, even if I did what they said, but I couldn’t.” He sucked in a quick breath and rushed on. “I tried to tell you to go home, I hoped that would be enough, but they kept showing me videos of her, and you weren't there, so all I could do was obey and let them— I had to let them do it. I couldn't fight."

A sob bubbled up Tony's throat, and his hands came to his face. He’d thought he knew what had happened to Peter, at least some of it, but now he saw the depth of it. They had shown him Morgan more than once, keeping the threat fresh. How often had his little girl been in the sights of a sniper rifle to keep her brother in check?

“I’m sorry,” Peter said weakly. “I’m so sorry. I should have made sure you understood so you could have protected her.”

“No!” Tony said, his voice coming louder than he intended as his hands dropped to his lap in fists. “No, Pete!”

Peter flinched back against the headboard, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap.

Tony realized with a pang of horror that he’d scared him. As if he’d not been through enough, now Tony was scaring him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. When that failed to calm him, he did it three more times until his heart had slowed slightly and he felt he was in control. He opened his eyes and brought his hands to Peter's face, trying not to cry again when Peter's eyes widened with obvious fear.

"I need to say something to you, Pete, and I need you to hear me. I’ve said this a lot these past five weeks, but I don’t think you heard me a single time.”

Peter nodded slightly. “Okay.”

"I love you," Tony said emphatically. "I love you so much. You are my son. I am not trying to take your father's or uncle's place, and nothing at all has to change for you if you don't want it to, but I have to be clear. To me, you're my son, and I couldn't love you any more than I do now if we shared blood, do you understand?"

Peter's eyes filled with tears, and he licked dry lips. "I love you, too."

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, absorbed the incredible feeling, and then opened them and lowered his hands to his lap.

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for what happened after we rescued you because none of it was your fault. It was what you needed to do for yourself. I hate that it happened, and those weeks with you like that were hell, but I never once forgot why it happened.” He cupped Peter’s cheek and was glad when he leaned into the touch. “You went to Ross to protect Morgan.”

Peter nodded. "When Strange was here, after I walked out, I got a call, and they had a video of her in the playground. They told me I had to go to them, or they'd kill her. It…" He gave a small shrug. "It wasn't even a choice. I had to go." His lips quivered. "I love her so much, Tony, and I was so scared they'd hurt her. The Stones wanted me to fight. They said if I really accepted and embraced them, I'd be able to do anything I wanted, and it wouldn’t exhaust me anymore, but they couldn't guarantee that I'd get to her in time." He wiped at the tears falling down his cheeks. “I didn’t dare. So they left me, withdrew, because I wasn’t Worthy anymore.”

“They were wrong,” Tony stated. “You were always Worthy. The fact you were willing to suffer to protect your sister is part of what makes you Worthy, understand?”

“They’d disagree. I was relieved when they left me, though, because it meant I wouldn’t be as big a threat when they controlled me. I’d just be Peter, Spider-Man, and I could be stopped by you all.”

Tony sucked in a breath and wordlessly shook his head at the thought of what could have happened if Peter was not as strong-willed and brave as he had been. He could have become something they needed to hunt down to protect others. The thought that Peter, his son, would have been a target was abhorrent, and he knew they would all feel the same.

Peter misunderstood his reaction as he said, “You could. Steve and Bucky are so strong, and you and Rhodey have the suits. Wanda could… and Bruce…” He shook his head. “You could have stopped me, and I knew it.”

Tony pressed his fisted hand to his temple and said, his voice heavy with sadness, “You weren’t expecting to be rescued? You thought we wouldn’t see you until we were coming to stop you?”

Peter lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "It was hard to think of positive things there. They would drill the words into me all the time I was awake, then I'd be knocked out, and I'd wake up in my cell until they came for me again. There wasn't time to think about much apart from what was happening except from when they showed me Morgan, and then all I could think was that I had to comply." He tugged Tony's hand towards him and uncurled his tightly clenched fingers. "When I saw you on the video in the suit, when I realized you would come for me, it was amazing. I knew I just had to be strong a little longer.”

He sighed, and his fingers tightened around Tony's to the point that it was almost painful.

Tony touched his chin and lifted his face. "What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"I wasn't strong enough," Peter said quietly, an admission. "They hadn't broken me all the way when we saw you, I was still strong in my mind most of the time, but after they knew you were coming, Thuri didn't stop. He drilled the words into me without a break, and it hurt so much and I just…" He winced. "He broke me.”

Tony shifted on the bed, so he was sitting beside Peter, and he wrapped his arms around him, holding him as he had when Peter was a vacant shell beside him, and it was the only way he could forge a connection to him. He held him close, and after a moment, Peter relaxed against him, his fingers clutching the front of his shirt and his tears wetting the fabric.

“He didn’t break you, Pete,” Tony said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If he had, you would have pulled the trigger on Steve. You turned the gun around on yourself. You broke free.”

"I did," Peter said, his voice sounding weaker than ever. "And Bucky says he's the only one that knows the words, and he'll never use them, but he's not the only one."

Tony frowned. “Who else was there? Who knows the words?”

Peter pulled back and fixed bloodshot eyes on Tony. “Ross.”

Tony's heart skipped, and he felt a wave of nausea at the realization. When he'd gone to Peter, he'd been decided and committed to killing Ross, but he'd done nothing to achieve it because he could think of nothing he could do and get away with it. Ross was the best-protected man on the planet, perhaps.

"I won't let Ross come near you again," he promised. "He will never be near you to say the words. And I will get their power out of your head. I'll find a way."

Peter pulled back and looked at him. "How, though? Bucky said it was Thuri that took them from him, and he's dead now."

“I don’t know yet,” Tony admitted. “But I will. There is always a way. You just have to be strong until then. Can you do that for me?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I think I can.”

“I know you can,” Tony said, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “You have been so strong already, you just have to hang on a little longer for me.”

Peter sighed and sagged against him.

Tony stroked his back and said, “You hungry?”

“I am, but I don’t feel like I can eat. I get so full so fast.”

Tony puzzled a moment and then said, "Damn. I didn't think. When you were on the feeding tube, we fed you every few hours to counteract your metabolism and gain the weight you lost back. Your stomach probably shrunk and got used to little and often. We'll keep that going. Come eat something now, and we'll work out some small meals for you every few hours."

Peter nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Sure. And then will it be okay if I go outside for a while?”

“Of course. You know, you liked that when you were ‘gone’, too. We spent a lot of time with you by the lake. Bucky was great about sitting out there with you. He loved it.”

Peter rubbed his chest and said, "Bucky… I feel connected to him, like he's reaching all the time. It's just like how I feel about you and Rhodey, stronger than Steve and Wanda."

"I'm not surprised. He was there for you all the time after, taking care of you. And he was the one that connected when we spoke to Mind and Power. Honestly, Pete, that man would move mountains for you."

Peter smiled slightly. “It’s a good feeling, but I feel bad that I’ve missed so much. I would have liked to be around when it was formed.”

Tony cupped his cheek. "You were, in a way, and you're here now. Honestly, kid, there are few moments in my life I've been this happy: when Pepper and I got married; when Morgan was born; and now, here with you, I am so happy. I am going to get those words out of your head, I promise, and then we'll find a way to deal with Ross."

Peter smiled and then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tony. “I’m glad I’m back, too,” he said.

Tony hugged him close, relishing the feeling of his son in his arms, but his mind had doubts Peter was really being honest. He had wondered if Peter was more happy than he was scared of what might happen.  

When he released him, Peter stood, smoothed his rumpled clothing, and looked tentatively at the door.

Tony saw his hesitation and said, “You don’t have to go out past everyone. There’s more than one way out of this place.”

Peter considered a moment. “No, I think I’ve got to do it. It’s time.”

He took a deep breath, crossed the room, and opened the door. Tony followed him out, placing one hand on his shoulder, as he walked into the living space where they had all gathered now, Bruce and Wanda having returned with a bowl of popcorn apiece. They all looked around with surprised expressions that quickly morphed into smiles as they greeted Peter.

“Hey,” Peter said tentatively.

“Hey, bud,” Bucky said, getting to his feet and approaching them. “How are you doing?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“We’re going to get Pete something to eat and then head outside for a while,” Tony explained.

“I’ll fix you something,” Bucky said. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything,” Peter said.

Bucky grinned and moved to pass them to head into the kitchen, but Peter caught his arm to stop him. Bucky paused and frowned, and then his eyebrows flew up, and his breath caught as Peter stepped towards him and put his arms around him, leaning his head on Bucky's chest.

The room was silent, though Tony could feel his own heart beating fast at the huge step he was seeing in his son.

Bucky rubbed Peter’s back and said, voice a little constricted, “It’s good to have you back, bud.”

Peter nodded and closed his eyes. “I feel it,” he said enigmatically. “And I need to thank you. Tony told me…” He tightened his arms slightly. “Thank you.”

Bucky rested his cheek against Peter’s head and said, “I feel it, too, bud, and I always will.”

He looked over Peter’s shoulder at Tony and mouthed a word of thanks, but Tony shrugged. This wasn’t him; it was all Peter. Whatever connection it was The Infinity Stones gave him had informed him of the bond that had developed between Peter and Bucky while he was gone, and it meant something special to them both.

Peter pulled back, looking a little embarrassed.

Bucky patted his shoulder and said, "I'll make you some soup, and then we'll see if we can lure the geese back, shall we?"

“There were geese?” Peter asked.

Bucky grinned. “There were, and you liked them.”

Peter smiled and nodded. “Sure. Geese are cool.”

Bucky placed an arm around his shoulders, and they walked together into the kitchen. Tony looked around at the others and saw Steve staring after them, a strange look on his face. Tony wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling Steve was feeling a little torn. Up until now, he was the closest person in his best friend’s world, the one Bucky connected to most of all, but that had changed a while ago. Peter had needed Bucky in a very different way to the way Bucky needed Steve, and now they shared the bond of the fate of being conditioned.

He was sure Steve didn’t begrudge either of them, no more than Tony did the connection Peter had formed with him, but it was an adjustment.

It was going to take time for them all to get used to it. 

Chapter Text

Rhodey stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his eyes watching the swirl of cream as it dispersed. His mind wasn’t in the kitchen with him, and Bucky’s and Steve’s voices washed over him as they talked on the other side of the table.

He looked up when Tony brushed in, Stark Pad in his hand and glasses perched on the end of his nose. He went straight to pour himself a coffee, still keeping one eye on the screen, only lowering it when he had his coffee and was slipping into place beside Rhodey.

He looked around as if noticing them for the first time and said, “No Pete?”

“Not since breakfast,” Bucky said. “He said there was something he wanted to do.”

Tony quirked a brow. “Any idea what?”

“No, and I didn’t push. He seemed a little stressed.”

Tony sighed and looked back over his shoulder to the hall leading to Peter’s room. “Friday, is he okay?”

“Peter appears to be in mild distress,” she replied. “He is in the bathroom. He’s been running water for ten minutes.”

Rhodey’s head snapped up. “He’s what?”

“I believe he is trying to prepare himself to shower.”

“Damn,” Tony muttered, pushing his coffee away. “No wonder he’s upset. Should I go talk to him, you think?”

“I’ll go,” Rhodey said, getting to his feet.

Tony frowned, and Rhodey waited to see if he’d pull rank as Peter’s father, but he nodded after a pause and said, “Okay. Make sure he knows there’s no pressure.”

“I will,” Rhodey said, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Tony was just being overprotective, but none of them were going to hurt Peter willingly, and they’d never put pressure on him again after what happened with Wanda.

He passed through the hall and knocked on Peter's door, then waited for a reply. None of them invaded Peter's space without an invitation now, as he needed to have all the control he could in his life after losing it at all at Ross and Thuri’s hands.

The door cracked open, and Peter peered out, his eyes tight with strain. “Hey.”

"You want to talk?" Rhodey asked.

Peter didn't answer at once, and then his shoulders sagged, and he nodded and stepped back to let Rhodey in. Rhodey went to the bed and sat down. Peter came and sat down beside him, the sound of the running shower in the background.

“You okay?” Rhodey asked.

“No,” he replied, voice weary. “I’m being stupid.”

“Because it’s too hard to face the shower?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

Rhodey sighed. “When you were… you know… I tried to get you into the shower one time. It was my mistake, I messed up, but you were really traumatized by it.” He bit his lip. “We didn’t know why.”

Peter averted his eyes and said, "It's the water. When I was there, with Thuri, they did ECT on me." He stopped when Rhodey sucked in a shocked breath and then went on, seeming to be forcing the words from himself. "But it was too hard for them to get the voltage right because I'm Spider-Man, so they had to get me wet first. He'd dump buckets of water on me and then do it, so the current spread over my whole body." He licked his lips and swallowed. "It was the only water I'd get. I had to try and catch it in my mouth without choking."

Rhodey flinched, horror twisting his gut. “You didn’t even get water?”

“No. I got nothing.” He shook his head. "I have to shower, though. My hair is gross, and Doctor Cho is coming today to take the tube out. I want to be clean."

Rhodey put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him close. "You're clean, it's only your hair that's a problem, and Helen won't care. I get it, though. That was why I tried to get you showered. It went badly wrong, so we never tried again. Wanda managed to untangle it all for you, but I know it can't feel comfortable like that.”

“Wanda did it?” Peter asked, bringing up a hand to touch his hair. “I didn’t know. I guess I wouldn’t.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I missed so much, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Rhodey said. “But that part is over, and we’re going to fix the rest. I know you’re scared of the programming, but Tony is working on a way to get the words out of your head. You’re safe here right now.”

“I know, but it doesn't stop me from being scared. I feel like if I can face this fear, the water, I can face the words, too”

Rhodey stared at him, marveling at the kid, then said, “You’re incredible, you know that, right?”

Peter looked genuinely startled. “I’m what?”

"Incredible!" he said emphatically. "Pete, after everything you've been through, only two days after coming back to yourself after over a month of being lost and three weeks of being tortured, you're still fighting to face your fears. I don't think any one of us could do that." He stopped and considered. "You're incredible, just like Tony. When he was held and tortured by Ten Rings, he turned the hellish experience into determination when creating a way to get himself free: the very first Iron Man suit. And your situation was worse. He was tortured, but they didn't take his mind the way they did yours."

Peter stared at him, seemingly processing the words, and then shook his head and said, "You make it sound better than it was. I shut down for weeks."

Rhodey lowered his arm from Peter’s shoulders and placed his hands on his chest instead, feeling his heart beating under his palms. “Tell me, Peter, did you shut down because you were scared of what would happen to you?”

“No, I was worried about what I’d do to everyone else.”

"Exactly. That was strong—incredible. You are facing these fears now, and…" He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as he realized something that might be the answer. "I've got to talk to Tony. I've got an idea that might…" He snapped his fingers. "We might be able to fix the programming. I don't know, I don't really understand how it works, but it's an idea…"

Peter looked puzzled, but he nodded and smiled as Rhodey got to his feet and strode to the door. He waved a hand when Rhodey turned back at the door, and then, with a look of steely determination, he pulled off his t-shirt and made for the bathroom.

Rhodey felt a surge of pride and hope that his idea might work. He rushed back into the kitchen, where the curious eyes of Tony, Steve, and Bucky met him.

“Everything okay?” Tony asked.

"That thing you made," Rhodey said quickly, waving a hand. "The therapy tool to make people face their past and change the memory… It had the gross name."

“BARF,” Tony said. “What about it?”

“Peter!” Rhodey said eagerly. “Do you think we can make it work for Peter?”

Tony’s eyes widened.  “Face the words?”

“Exactly!”

“Yes!” Tony said. “That could work.”

“He’s trying to face his fear of water right now, after they…” Rhodey winced at the memory of what he’d heard and decided they didn’t need to know Peter had been through that. “But he’s facing it. If he can face the words…”

“Wait!” Bucky said, holding up a hand. “What exactly are you planning?”

Tony turned his bright eyes on him, his voice rushed with excitement. “It’s called BARF—Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. It can tap into memories and create an interactive holographic experience. He could face the memories and beat them.”

“Face the words?” Bucky asked. “Do you know how hard that would be on him?”

Tony’s face fell into solemnity. “I know, but this could work. Peter always faces his fears, every time, and this will be the hardest, yeah, but it could be the fix he needs.”

“And if the words trigger him?” Steve asked.

Tony shook his head jerkily. “He won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t know that,” Steve stated.

“No, we can’t,” Rhodey agreed. “And it will be tough on Peter to do it, but this might be the only way we can fix it.”

Bucky looked down at the tabletop where his hands were fisted, head bowed, and said, “I don’t like this. It’s too much pressure to put on him after everything that he’s been through.”

“Maybe it is,” Tony said. “But the pressure he’s under already with his fear is much worse. He’s terrified of the words, of Ross getting him again and using them. We’ve got no fix for him yet. Ross is out there, the most powerful man in the world, and he would try to turn Peter into a weapon if he had him again. I don’t believe it would work, Peter would shut down again, but even that’s a whole new kind of hell.”

“We ask him,” Rhodey said. “The four of us with him. We each get a chance to share how we feel about it, what we think the risks are, and he decides.”

Bucky looked up. “I can agree with that. It should be his choice.”

“Me too,” Tony said without hesitation. “Steve?”

Steve was silent for a long moment, and then he said, "Yeah. It's got to be Queens' choice, a we have to make the risks clear."

“We will,” Tony said.

There was an uncomfortable moment, and then Friday spoke, sounding oddly satisfied, "Peter is now out of the shower and drying his hair."

Tony and Rhodey exchanged a satisfied glance, and Bucky huffed a laugh. "Okay, maybe he can do it. He's definitely strong enough."

“He is,” Tony said, voice brimming with pride in his son. “He's the strongest of us all.”

Rhodey agreed. He’d seen Peter break when he’d tried to get him in the shower, he had the scar on the back of his head as a reminder, and he’d seen his stress when he’d been with him, but Peter had faced it.

If this worked, Peter had to face another fear, and then he would be free.

xXx

Bucky set the last platter of sandwiches down on the table and said, “Friday, can you tell everyone lunch is ready.”

“They’re on their way,” she replied after a moment. “Peter said he just needs a minute.”

Bucky nodded with a small smile. He was pleased Peter was coming. He worried after the stress of the shower that he might isolate himself for a while. 

There was movement at the door, and everyone, excepting Peter, trailed in and took their seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table, and Bucky slid the platter of sandwiches he'd made specifically for the huge man to eat. Bruce smiled and thanked him.

Steve looked around and said, “No Queens?”

“He needed another minute,” Bucky said, sitting down and pulling over his coffee. “He’s coming.”

“And he did something big today,” Tony said with evident satisfaction.

“He did?” Wanda asked.

“I wouldn’t call it big,” Peter said, appearing in the doorway with a grin. “It was just a shower.”

He came in and sat beside Bucky with the effusive praise apparently washing over him as everyone expressed their pleasure and admiration.

Bucky saw the marked difference in Peter. His hair was drying and combed into the style he preferred, looking clean and soft for the first time in weeks.

Bucky couldn’t resist ruffling it and saying, “It was big, and you look good, bud.”

Peter grumbled and made the face Tony had tried to mimic when telling them about his aunt as he tried to fix his hair, but he was soon smiling.

“Dig in,” Bucky said, and hands grabbed at the sandwiches and loaded them onto plates as Bruce stuffed a sandwich into his mouth whole and chewed with evident relish.

They ate in silence for a while, Peter only managing one sandwich, but Bucky had already prepared a protein shake for him which was in the fridge, ready for him in a few hours. 

“Rhodey had an idea that might help you, Pete,” Tony said. “Did you hear?”

Peter looked between them. “No. What’s the idea?”

Rhodey cleared his throat and lowered his sandwich. “Tony’s got some tech that might help you break the programming.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

“It’s something I made a while ago,” Tony said. “It’s called BARF—Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. It was designed as a therapeutic tool, but I think you can make it work for you. It will tap into your memories and create an interactive scene. I've used it myself to make something right in my past that I struggled with before.”

“I’ve heard of it, but how will that help me?” Peter asked.

“You’d have to face the words,” Rhodey said. “Go back to the time they were being programmed into you and take control.”

Peter ducked his head and chewed on his bottom lip. “Oh.”

Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "You don't have to do this, bud. It is going to be really hard to face the words, and it might not work."

Peter looked up. “But it might?”

“It might,” Tony said carefully.

Peter sat in silence for a moment, and Bucky held up a hand when Rhodey opened his mouth to talk. He wanted Peter to work through this in his own time, not feeling pressured to accept or refuse.

“What if…” Peter swallowed hard. “What if doing it triggers the programming?”

Tony grimaced. “It’s a risk, but you beat it once.”

“I don’t want to hold anyone else at gunpoint to break it,” Peter said. He closed his eyes. “Is there anything else that might work?”

"Nothing we know of," Tony said regretfully. "Not yet anyway."

“Honestly, bud, anything we try is probably going to involve facing the words and risking being triggered,” Bucky said. “I had to hear them a lot to break their hold on me.”

Peter rubbed his forehead with a shaking hand. "Okay, I'll try it, but I want backup in place. You've got to be ready to stop me if I'm triggered. I can’t hurt anyone.”

"I can promise that," Bucky said. "I won't let you hurt anyone. We'll lock you down if we need to."

He hated saying it as it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he was only ready to let Thuri start removing his programming when he knew there were safety measures in place, and Peter would feel the same.

Peter nodded. “Then let’s do it. The sooner these words are out of my head, the better. Do you have what you need?”

"Not here," Tony said. "I've got it at home, though. I'll go pick it up whenever you're ready."

“I’m ready now,” Peter said emphatically.

“Tomorrow,” Tony said. “I want to run through the specifications first, make sure they’re ready.”

Peter looked at Bucky. "And you'll be ready to stop me?"

“We all will,” Bucky said. “With me, Steve, Wanda, and Bruce, we can handle you.”

“And I’ve got the vibranium restraints Shuri gave me if it comes to that,” Tony said, his tone disgusted.

Peter shot him an apologetic smile. “That’ll work. Good.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can do this.”

Bucky saw his resolve and bit his tongue. He was worried about the pressure they were going to put on him, but he also knew that if any of them could handle it, it was Peter. He’d proven himself again and again. 

Hopefully, he would be able to find that strength again and use it to make this the thing that set him free and gave him peace.

Chapter Text

Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders, feeling the tremors working through him that transferred into his own hands and made his anxiety spike. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Peter took a deep breath, held it for a beat, and then nodded. “I am.”

Tony hugged him, cradling the back of his head as Peter hid his face in his neck, and then released him. Peter blinked at him, his eyes worried. Tony kissed his temple then said, “If you want to stop it at any moment, just take off the glasses. It will pull you out of the illusion at once.”

“I know. We’ve been over this, Tony. I know what I have to do. I’m prepared. I have to focus on the memory I need, the one I’m scared of, and the system will hone in on it.”

"It will," Tony said. He looked back over his shoulder to where the others were gathered on the opposite side of the workshop. "You sure you want everyone here? They'll be able to see what's happening. It can just be me if that's easier."

Peter didn’t hesitate before answering. “No. If the words trigger me, you’ll all need to be here to hold me down while Bruce sedates me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tony growled.

Peter's lips quirked into a smile. "I know you want to believe that, but Steve and Bucky have promised to hold me down, and Bruce promised to give me the drugs." When Tony opened his mouth to argue, Peter placed a trembling hand on his chest and said, “It’s what I need to feel safe.”

Tony sighed. "I know. I just hate it." He gave his head a brisk shake. "You're not going to be triggered, so none of that is going to happen. You can handle this."

“I can,” Peter agreed.

Tony stared at him a moment, seeing the bravery and determination in his rainbow eyes, and said, “Okay, kid.”

Tony moved back to stand by the wall with Rhodey and Bucky on either side of him and watched as Peter put on the glasses and took a deep breath.

They'd talked over what he needed to do, and Tony waited for the dank room on The Raft to appear when Peter put on the glasses, but instead it was a busy New York street that coalesced around Peter and a man appeared at his side.

“What’s this?” Steve asked.

Tony had no answer at once, and then he focused on the figure beside Peter, a man wearing a heavy brown jacket and his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Tony got a good look at his face and saw the familial similarity.

“No, Pete,” he groaned.

“What?” Rhodey asked. “Tony, talk!”

“It’s his Uncle Ben. He was shot by a mugger two years before The Snap. Peter never talked about it, but I know he was there. I’m guessing this is what we’re about to see.”

Bucky cursed. “I thought it was just going to be Thuri!”

“It was supposed to be, but the system is able to tap into the mind. I guess it saw what Peter needed to see, too. That or he’s choosing this.”

“You think he’s going to change it?” Rhodey asked.

“He’s going to try,” Sam stated. “Which makes perfect sense. I should have seen this coming. He's being given a chance to face the things that scare him and make a difference. With Peter being who he is, we’re probably going to see a lot more than just this.”

Peter and his uncle walked along the street, Peter bouncing at his uncle’s side and chattering about something he’d done in school, his uncle nodding along and smiling fondly. Tony watched, a heavy feeling of dread in his stomach as he waited for the horror to start.

He saw the moment Peter recognized what was happening, that he remembered the simulation, as he stiffened and said, “Ben, we should probably head home,” anxiously.

“We will,” Ben replied. “But you know May will pitch a fit if we don’t pick up her pint of Ben and Jerry’s first.”

Peter’s eyes darted around, and he nodded quickly. “Yeah, but let’s get it from Mr. Delmar. He doesn’t hike up the prices like Bennetts’ does.”

“That means turning around and going back ten blocks, Pete,” Ben said, ruffling his hair. “I know what’s going on; you want a sandwich. I know the spaghetti was a little chewy, and the sauce could have done with a little longer on the stove, but we can’t buy a Delmar’s every time May makes dinner. She’ll develop a complex.”

"I know," Peter said tersely, eyes still darting around. "Just wait here a minute. There's something I've got to—" He stopped suddenly as a man appeared ahead of them. He was wearing a ratty leather jacket, and he had a pockmarked face and jerky steps as he approached them. One hand was stuffed in his jacket, and the other was clenching and relaxing at his side.

“Oh God,” Tony murmured. “Peter….”

He was terrified that Peter wouldn't be able to change the memory and that he would suffer that trauma again.

Peter ran towards the man and dropped into a skid, knocking the man’s legs out from under him.  The man sprawled to the ground, hands coming out to catch him and the gun falling beside him.

“Peter, what are you doing!” Ben shouted.

Peter didn't answer, but his foot stamped down on the man's hand as he reached for the gun. The man writhed, and Peter knelt on his back with a knee digging between his shoulder blades.

“Peter!” Ben panted, coming to a stop beside him. “What’s going on.”

“Get the gun!” Peter ordered, then called over his shoulder to a couple that had come to a stop to stare at them. “Call the cops!”

Ben picked up the gun. “Peter, talk to me,” he said.

“He’s called Dennis Carradine,” Peter said. “He’s got an arrest warrant out for him for burglary and assault.”

“How do you know?” Ben asked weakly.

Peter looked up at him, something shifting in his eyes and his voice coming strong as he replied, “Because I am Spider-Man.”

Tony blew out a long breath. He’d done it. Peter had faced and changed the memory.

“So that man killed his uncle before?” Steve asked.

“He did,” Tony said. “He technically still did, but I guess Peter was hanging onto guilt for not stopping it. He took control of the experience this time.” He huffed a laugh. “He did good.”

“You do realize he could change things in this world, too, don’t you?” Bruce said. “According to Strange, he’s not limited with the Time Stone the way he was.”

Rhodey sucked in a breath. “Damn, I didn’t even think.”

“Would he?” Steve asked, eyes fixed on Tony.

Tony shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. He might.”

“What do we do if he does?” Sam asked.

Tony had no answer to give. He didn’t know if he would encourage Peter to save the people he loved or tell him to let time remain as it had passed with fate. He wanted Peter to have those people back in his life, but it was a large amount of power for him to attempt to harness and a huge twist of the natural order to do it.

The scene shifted, and Tony gasped. “No, Pete, not this.”

“What is it?” Rhodey asked. “Tony?”

Tony saw himself in his armor facing Peter, who looked small and defeated on the roof St George Terminal Building, police helicopters flying towards the ferry in the background. He heard his voice coming from behind the mask, the scathing tone and anger that he'd never wanted to hear directed to Peter and yet had allowed as he'd been furious.

“Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch… I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do.”

Peter looked up at him, and Tony saw the wretchedness that he'd not allowed to soften him before. "Is everyone okay?”

“No thanks to you.”

“Tony, what is this?” Rhodey asked again, grabbing his shoulder and turning him away from the scene Peter was re-experiencing. “What's going on?”

“He messed up,” Tony said. “Went after these alien weapons dealers, and the fight caused a ferry to be split in two. A hundred people could have died.” He ducked his head. “I was so mad.”

“No shit,” Bucky muttered.

Tony forced his eyes back to the scene and saw Peter had taken control of it. He no longer looked broken as Tony raged at him. He stared back, his face ashamed but not wretched.

“What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? ‘Cause that’s on you. And if you died, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”

Peter nodded. “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. I thought I had no choice because you weren’t listening.” He took a deep breath. “I know you’re here to take the suit back.”

“You took his suit!” Rhodey asked incredulously.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, and he saved the day in a onesie anyway. Saved a lot of lives by stopping Toomes from getting the weapons from my plane. How it didn't kill him, I'll never know. I messed up big, I know that. I let him down, and he saved our asses anyway. The kid was a hero.

“I am taking the suit,” he heard his voice say in the memory, sounding surprised that the kid had known what was coming.”

Peter looked up at him, his eyes blazing. “You can take it, I understand why. but it’s not going to stop me. The suit isn’t what makes me Spider-Man. I am Spider-Man.”

In the memory, Tony looked stunned and a little annoyed, but Peter was calm. He stared at him and said, “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s not what happened before,” Steve said.

“No,” Tony said as the memory froze and faded. “He was devastated, and I was a dick. Sent him home dressed in… It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” Bucky said.

“Later,” Steve muttered. “Look.”

It was a new scene. Peter was wearing his onesie suit again, and he was standing frozen in a warehouse as the rumble of falling concrete sounded around him. They couldn't see his face, but Tony was sure he had to be terrified under the mask. The roof fell, and the ground shook as the building came down, crushing his kid beneath tons of concrete and steel.

“What the hell is this?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know,” Tony said shakily. “He never told me about any of this. I don’t know what’s happening.” He felt sick with fear, even though he knew his son was technically safe.

Peter was perfectly still under the rubble, and Tony's heart raced in his chest, and then there was a groan, and Peter’s shaking hand came up to pull the mask from his face. He was ashen and bloody, and Tony felt his stomach twist at the sight of it.

“Hello!” Peter said, voice choked. “Hello! Please. Hey, hey, please. I’m down here. I’m down here. I’m stuck… I’m stuck. I can’t move... I can’t...” His scared eyes cleared into determination, and gave his head a brisk shake and said, “No, Peter. You know this. You’re strong enough. You’re Peter Parker. You’re Spider-Man. You can get out.”

He gritted his teeth, and a look of steely determination came into his eyes as he propped his hands at his sides and forced himself up and out of the rubble.

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed. “I didn’t realize he was that strong.”

Tony didn’t know if he meant physically or mentally, but Tony always knew. His son was the best of all of them; he always had been. Tony hadn’t seen it in time, he’d underestimated Peter until he put on that gauntlet, but he knew now that Peter held an inner strength that was beyond anything Tony had touched or seen or would experience for himself.

The scene rearranged itself, and Wanda gave a broken cry.

Tony saw what was upsetting her at once. It was his own lab but markedly different. Instead of workstations strewn with scraps of metal and paper, projects in various states of progress, the surfaces were bare, and there was a table in the center of the scene around which seven people sat. Vision was one of them, and that was who had drawn the quiet sobs from Wanda, which were muffled in Bruce's shirt as he embraced her.

Some of the others were familiar—Peter Quill, Loki, Strange, and there was one that had to be Thor's Jane and the small girl that had to be Gamora.

Peter was seated with them, and his voice was weak as he said, "Can I die?”

Tony's heart skipped as he heard the hopefulness. He knew Peter didn't want to die then, but the fact he wanted an end was painful, though, as Rhodey said, it was understandable.

The small girl gave him a strange look. “You don’t want to.”

Peter shook his head. “No, obviously, well, not now—but one day. But you said mortal years don’t matter, that reality is over.” He bit his lip. “Does that mean I’ll never die?”

Vision stared at him and said, “The reality of death is over in the technical sense, yes.”

Peter’s breath rushed out of him, and he squeezed his eyes closed. “No,” he moaned.

“It’s not so bad,” Quill said easily. “We don’t die either, you know. We’re endless, and we’re happy enough.”

Peter opened his eyes, and they were filled with tears. He looked horrified for a long moment, and then he gave his head a brisk shake and said, "I know. I can do this."

Quill raised an eyebrow. “You’re accepting it?”

Peter held his head high, and he said, "I am. I didn't want this power or to be endless, but I can do good with it. If not dying is what it takes to do that good, I'm willing to accept it for the price it is. If I'm alive, I can protect people—I can be the shield."

The faces around him, The Infinity Stones' faces, looked impressed, and Vision gave him a small nod and said, "We will speak again."

The room froze and reformed into the one Tony had been both anticipating and dreading. Peter was strapped to a stainless-steel table, his face not gaunt as it had been when they’d found him; this was clearly in the early days of his captivity. On his head was a plastic headset with metal discs attached that pressed against his forehead.

Tony realized what he was seeing at once, and bile rose up his throat. They were going to electrocute his kid.

The man Bucky had killed, Thuri, was standing beside Peter, fiddling with the ECT machine, and Ross was on his other side, his malicious face alight with glee as he picked up a bucket of water and poured it over Peter.

“Water!” Tony gasped, understanding at last. “They used water as well! I thought it was… They…”

Rhodey nodded. “They did. He told me. They had to boost the shocks because of his endurance.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Tony growled.

“Did you need those nightmares?” Rhodey countered. “I know I didn’t.”

When Peter was dripping wet and shivering, Ross said, “That will do. Prepare yourself, Little Spider. You are going to learn to comply.”

Thuri took a rubber wedge from the table, yanked open Peter’s mouth, and stuffed it between his teeth, making Peter gag.

Ross moved back as Thuri turned the dial slowly on the machine, seeming to take pleasure in the moment. Blue light moved over Peter’s body as the shocks spread along the water. His head strained back, and the cords of his neck stood out. His teeth clamped down on the rubber wedge, and his lips curled back. 

After far too long, an eternity that tore Tony apart, Ross said, “Enough,” and the power died.

Peter’s bloodshot eyes blinked up at the man standing over him and said, “Hear these words, Asset, and comply. “Ukulangazelela… Amandla… Amanzi… Iglasi… Amandla seRoss… Isixhobo seRoss… Thobela… Isigcawu… Amatye… Khusela seRoss…”

“Fight it, Peter!” Bucky growled. “Break free!”

“It’s taking too long,” Steve muttered. “The words are working.”

Tony could see what he meant. Peter’s eyes were blank and drifting to Ross. The words were reaching him. He was torn between breaking into the illusion, freeing Peter before it was too late, and letting him face this.

He took a step forward unthinkingly, and Rhodey caught his arm and said, “No! Watch!”

Tony fixed his eyes on Peter and saw what Rhodey had seen. Peter’s eyes were narrowed and alert now, and his arms were straining against the restraints.

“Yes!” Bucky hissed. “You’re Peter Parker. You’re Spider-Man. You can do this!”

Peter struggled, and then with a creaking and tearing sound, he yanked his hands up. He ripped the rubber wedge from his mouth, threw it onto the ground, and then tore away the remaining restraints that held him and jumped off of the table. Ross and Thuri backed away, eyes wide with fear, and Peter stalked towards them.

“Ukulangazelela?” Peter spat, pushing his wet hair back from his face. “No. Amandla? No.  Amanzi? No.”

“He’s got it,” Bucky said breathlessly. “He’s beating it.”

“He is,” Tony said weakly, his heart pounding and eyes pricking with proud tears as he saw his son breaking himself free of the programming that terrified him.

“Iglasi? No. Amandla seRoss? No. Isixhobo seRoss?" His voice rose to a shout. "No! You don't control me. I control myself. I am Peter Parker. I am Spider-Man. I have The Infinity Stones, and you cannot control me. I am The Infinity Stones!”

Ross tried to duck behind Thuri, but the man was already running for the door. Before he could reach it, it flew open, and an image of Bucky walked through it. Peter's eyes fixed on him, and he gave a small nod. Bucky smiled at him, grabbed Thuri's throat with his prosthetic hand, and snapped it to the right, breaking the man's neck.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Steve said weakly. “He’s taken complete control.”

“He has,” Bucky said with satisfaction.

Peter advanced on Ross, who had backed away until he was pressed against the wall. Peter stared at him a moment and said, "I am not going to kill you. You will not be the person that makes me take a life. But I am coming for you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I will take it all away.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his chest, where his heart was slamming against his ribs. He waited for it to end. Peter had done it. He'd beaten the programming. He wanted him back so he could wrap him in his arms and tell him how proud he was, how much he loved him, and how he would never let anything like that happen again.

The Bucky and Ross in the illusion disappeared, but Peter remained standing in that room, his eyes strangely distant.

“Why isn’t it stopping?” Rhodey asked. “It’s done. He’s not going to stay in there, is he? Shut down again or hide?”

“No,” Steve said confidently. “He still has something he needs to do.”

“What?” Wanda asked, the sadness of seeing that version of Vision still in her voice.

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “But we have to wait.”

Peter continued to gaze around the room, and then he gave a small nod and said, "You can come."

Six pillars of light appeared, and then they dimmed and the shapes of The Infinity Stones in their human and alien approximations formed out of them. 

“Uh… what’s this about?” Sam said.

“Just watch,” Bruce advised.

Tony did and saw Vision approach Peter, a pensive look in his eyes.

“You don’t feel you need to die anymore,” Mind said. “You don’t want it?”

“I don’t,” Peter agreed.

Mind nodded. “You’ve accepted your fate as our possessor, even though it means eternity and loss?”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded. “I am because it means I can protect the people that are left.”

“Are you willing to truly embrace us?” Mind asked. "Knowing that it means a change from everything you've ever known and been and that it will unlock our full power? You will never tire from us, but you will never just be Peter Parker again.”

Tony shifted anxiously. He wasn’t sure he wanted this, but he knew it wasn’t his place to step in and stop it.

Peter was silent for a long moment, and then he said. "I haven’t been just Peter Parker in a long time. I am ready."

Tony sucked in a breath as the figures became pillars of light again and then streamed into Peter. For a moment, it looked as though he was the center of a rainbow supernova, and then the glow faded, leaving his face bathed in a halo of light, which then disappeared, too.

Peter looked at his hands as if never having seen them before, and a flicker of light spread up his fingers in a similar way to Wanda's own power. He gave a small nod and then took off the glasses, and the room around him disappeared.

He looked at them all where they were lined against the wall, and his lips curved into a tentative smile. "Uh, I guess it's done.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’d call that done. You beat the programming.”

“And accepted a massive amount of power,” Rhodey added.

Peter nodded solemnly. “It was time.”

Tony strode towards him and wrapped him in a hug that knocked the breath out of them both. Tony clung to him and then held him at arms’ length and said, “How do you feel?”

Peter didn’t answer at once, seeming to be considering the question, and then he said, “I feel like me, but more, like I really am what I’m supposed to be at last. I feel like I’m in control finally.” The colors in his eyes seemed to glow with even more intensity. “I feel powerful. I feel like The Stones really belong to me now.”

“They do, bud,” Bucky said, coming to them and placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “But what does that mean?”

Peter tilted his head to the side, and his eyes became distant; Tony guessed he was listening to The Stones. "It means I still have a lot to learn and explore, but it means I can make a difference." He gave a small nod. "Yes, it means things are going to change."

Tony stared at him a moment, disconcerted by the ominous statement and what it might mean for his family, his son, but then dismissed the thought. Whatever was coming would come; nothing he could do was going to change or halt it.

Right now, he was just happy to have his son with him, free of the programming and apparently accepting of his fate with The Stones.