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Peter’s screech echoed across the walls of the cave and the spanner Tony was holding clanged as it dropped to the table.
“Dad!”
He spun around, eyes searching frantically for the kid and what could have caused him to yell like that.
“There’s a snake!” Peter cried out, not taking him eyes off of a point in front of him, frozen in place. Tony cursed and dashed over to where he was immediately. Somehow, a snake had managed to get into their little section of the caves. Tony really shouldn’t have been surprised by its presence, really, they were in the desert, and yet he was. But surprise wasn’t the prevalent emotion he was feeling.
“Dad! Please, get rid of it, make it go away, please! I don’t want it to bite me! Dad!”
Adrenaline pumped through him as he took in Peter’s abject fear. He quickly grabbed him by his underarms, lifting him smoothly onto the nearest table.
“Ok, you just stay up there where it can’t reach you while I deal with this, yeah? Don’t be scared, Pete.”
Peter nodded, crouched down on his hands and knees on the table top, eyes wide and fearfully watching him. Tony grabbed a metal slab that he hadn’t begun work on yet and began to move towards where the snake was coiled up in a corner against the wall.
“Don’t kill it!” Peter whisper-yelled fearfully all of a sudden and it caused Tony to freeze in his tracks, turning to look over at Peter. He was still crouched on the table, with a white-knuckled grip onto the sides.
“I thought you were scared of it and wanted it gone?”
“I – I do, but – I want it gone but I don’t want it dead. It doesn’t have to die just because I’m scared of it. It was probably just looking for shelter - or food, it doesn’t deserve to die.”
He was suddenly overcome with a wave of fondness for that child. Here he was, scared of the snake but also not wanting harm to come to it. This kid was one of a kind.
“Alright, kid, I’ll try my best.”
He turned around and began to re-evaluate the situation. How to get a snake out of here without hurting it.
Getting out an animal that scared their child was not a new situation for parents, but usually when they were called in for those situations, they’d grab a paper and a cup to trap the spider or whatever insect it was and set it free outside. Tony had neither a cup big enough or paper strong enough and it was a snake he was dealing with here. Tony felt that he and those parents were not really in the same situation. Then again, those parents probably became parents through birth or adoption or something, while Tony became one accidently when he was kidnapped and imprisoned with the kid. So yeah, he felt he and other parents where in wildly different situations.
The snake was stripy, beige on brown with diamond like patterns. It reminded him, he thought vaguely, of a snake-skin bag a journalist had had at some press event. Tony tried to wrack his mind for all he knew about snakes. He was fairly sure this was some sort of viper and frankly, its eyes looked evil and he wanted it as far away from his kid as possible. Why couldn’t a snake with cute eyes have found its way into their room instead? At least then the battle he would have had on his hands would be telling Peter that no, they could not keep it as a pet. Instead, he somehow had to get a snake that he was fairly sure was venomous out of here without killing it or getting hurt.
Well, he wasn’t called a genius for nothing.
Tony approached it slowly and it lifted its head, shifting its body as it scented the air with its tongue.
“Dad,” Peter whimpered.
“Don’t worry, Peter, I’ll get it out of here,” Tony said calmly.
“I don’t want you getting hurt either!”
Tony felt his heart melt a bit. “I’ll do my best.”
Grabbing a big sheet of metal as he crept closer, he made sure the metal pipe was still grasped securely before he eased the sheet to the ground near the viper. He held his breath. The snake didn’t move. He released the breath slowly and gently, oh so gently, began to slide the sheet closer to its body. Its tail flicked. Tony froze. He could hear Peter suppressing whimpers.
As soon as it settled again, the sheet was moving. When it finally touched the viper’s side, the snake began moving, slightly agitatedly. Tony didn’t stop but he was aware he was holding his breath again. The sheet was slightly under the snake when it moved again and Tony stopped. Luckily, the movement tipped it further onto the sheet. A bit more and most of it was on. Tony decided that was enough and slowly lifted the sheet from the ground. Peter stifled a gasp behind him.
He stood up gradually, and then moved at a snail’s pace towards the door to their room. He stopped moving every time the viper moved, held still until it quietened down again. It slowed his progress even further, but otherwise, it seemed to be quite the nonchalant snake.
When he reached to door, he put the sheet back on the ground and began to tip it. There was a narrow opening between the bottom of the metal door holding them trapped and the cave floor and that was the only opening Tony could think of that the viper got in through. So, he grabbed the closest end of the sheet to him and began slowly lifting it, tipping the snake off of it and towards to door. Unfortunately, what he had thought about the snake being nonchalant proved frustratingly true when it just lay on the ground, not making a move towards the gap. Tony had to scrape the sheet along to gently push it until it got the hint and began moving. He had to nudge it a few times till it finally went in the right direction and slid out from under the door. Tony watched the gap for a few moments to be sure it wouldn’t come back before he breathed a sigh of relief.
“There, all gone.” He turned around and made his way back to Peter, who was staring at him, wide eyed. As he approached, Peter lifted his hands from the table edge and held them out for Tony. He quickly scooped him up and into his arms in a practiced move, Peter clamping his legs around his waist and arms around his neck.
“It’s really gone?” Tony felt the damp imprint of the question on his neck.
“It’s really gone, don’t worry. And not even a scratch on it.” He swayed them gently.
“Thanks dad.”
Tony smiled into his hair. Totally worth it.
In another room, three men watched the computer screen, the recipients oblivious in their moment of affection. The heart-warming scene playing out there meant something very different to them.
“Yusuf,” began one in Arabic, “I’ve heard that word before. Find out what it means. If it means what I think it does… it will be very useful for us.”
“Which word, Raza?”
Dark eyes turned to him. “Dad.”
Tony had his goggles down, welding two pieces of metal together when the sliding panel on the door opened and a voice yelled out to them in Arabic. He looked up, turning off the welding torch. The panel slid shut again before the door was opened.
As was routine by this point, both he and Peter stood up, putting their hands behind their heads as what seemed to be a dozen armed men filed in, the two at the front aiming their guns at them. Tony had to grit his teeth to stop himself from saying anything, hating the fact that there was a gun aimed at Peter’s head.
The men parted as one strode in leisurely. The man stopped in front of them and looked over at him. Tony stared back unwaveringly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking away.
“Relax,” the man said in an accented voice. Tony masked his surprise. He didn’t think anyone here knew English, other than the two he had had the displeasure of meeting before. He cautiously brought his arms down, from the corner of his eye he could see Peter doing the same, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the man in front of him. He approached him slowly, in seemingly no rush, reaching out a hand and moving his shirt aside to reveal Tony’s arc reactor. He steeled himself, willed himself not to flinch. Don’t give a reaction. Don’t give a -
“The bow and arrow,” the man began, eyeing the arc reactor, “Once was the pinnacle of weapons technology.” He glanced up at Tony again before moving away to fiddle with a tangle of wiring they had on a nearby table. Tony swallowed nervously, watching. He lost interest in it soon enough.
“It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the pacific to Ukraine, an empire twice the size of Alexander the Great, and four times the size of the Roman empire.” He walked back towards Tony, eyeing him as he walked past. He picked up a few pages of the schematics and Tony had to take a few subtle breaths and remind himself it would be fine. He didn’t know. Tony had accounted for this. ‘Don’t give a reaction. You aren’t doing anything’.
“But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons- ” Tony grit his teeth, both at the reminder of what his work was being used for, and because the man was still analysing his plans – “rules these lands.”
Tony glanced over at Peter while the man’s back was still turned to him. The kid’s face was carefully blank, but his eyes were scared. They made eye contact. Tony subtly gestured with his hand. A ‘don’t worry, hold on’.
“Soon,” the man said, finally – finally – putting the sheets down, “it will be my turn.” He turned to look back at Tony, stare anything but friendly. He walked back over to stand in front of Tony. They stared at one another, the man practically glaring another hole through him. Tony could feel the sweat drip down his back but his face didn’t break from its neutral expression. He didn’t say anything. Neither did the man. Then he did. But it wasn’t in English and it wasn’t to Tony. It was worse.
The man’s head tilted slightly as he switched from English and said something. Tony had no idea what but Peter shifted uncomfortably and responded. Tony often forgot why it was the kid was with him in the first place, a large part of it was to act as translator. They hadn’t really discussed Peter’s knowledge of languages. It was hitting Tony in the face now though, as the kid’s mouth formed unfamiliar syllables, as he and the man conversed and Tony had no idea what they were saying or what was going on. All he knew was the man had turned from him, heading towards Peter, that Peter held fear within his posture and determination within his stance and Tony hated it. But he didn’t move. He trusted Peter. The kid had talked his way out of stuff before. He had lived here for years before Tony had arrived, taking care of himself. That didn’t stop the storm of emotions within him. He was practically choking on the words he wanted to say.
Then suddenly the man in charge was giving an order and a soldier was grabbing Peter, another one gripped his neck to force him to his knees. Tony startled, already jerking closer before he could even compute it. All he could feel was anger and fear. How dare they lay a hand on his kid?
He was stopped from moving further as Peter glared at him. His stare seeming to say ‘stay put’. Tony glared back. He could barely hold himself in check as it was. He was giving Peter exactly one minute before he stepped in.
But then the man was turning around with a burning coal gripped between tongs and the others were grabbing Peter, bending him and the man was yelling and Peter was talking quickly and the burning coal was getting closer to Peter’s face and it wasn’t stopping and Tony couldn’t hold back anymore.
“What do you want? A delivery date?” Tony began aggressively, moving towards them. He froze again when there was suddenly about seven guns pointing at him and they were yelling. The man turned to look at him.
There was silence. Everyone waiting for the next move.
Tony eyed the guns, then turned his eyes back to the scene that actually held his attention. Peter was still held bent over, the coal still close – way too close – to his face. He was breathing in shallow pants, eyes on Tony.
“I need him,” Tony blurted, too honest. And yet it didn’t begin to cover just how much Tony needed him. “As an assistant. He’s a good assistant. Good at fetching things.” He backtracked slightly, trying to cover it up. The man continued to stare at him. Tony didn’t like the look in his eyes. Then he was dropping the coal. Tony didn’t have time to be relieved before there was suddenly a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Interesting,” he muttered. Tony felt his anxiety rise. What was he talking about? “Very interesting. I didn’t think they were right. But they were. Weren’t they, Stark?”
Tony shifted, heart thudding in his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” the man smiled, “You will.” Then he said something else, a command, and two men came forward with a case carried between them. The leader opened the case, but it was facing away from Tony so he couldn’t see the contents. Peter could though, and Tony heard his breath hitch.
“What are you doing?” Tony asked, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He started towards the group before two guards caught hold of him. “Hey!”
Then the leader lifted his hands from the case and into Tony’s view at last. And he wanted to be sick. There, in his hands, was a syringe filled with a clear substance. The needle glinted threateningly in the subpar lighting of the cave. Adrenaline was immediately rushing through his veins.
“What’s that?” Tony asked gruffly. The man barely spared him a glance, that same small, vicious smile on his face as he turned towards Peter. “NO!” Tony yelled when his suspicion was confirmed. He didn’t want that thing anywhere near Peter. He didn’t want these people anywhere near Peter.
“Hey!” Tony tried to grab his attention, struggling against the men’s hold on him. Tony didn’t think he had ever fought against them like this before. He twisted and ducked and shoved until he managed to just about slither past them and towards Peter when two more seized him, the two from before re-establishing their grip.
The four of them held him as he fought against them, yelling. The leader wasn’t deterred. If anything, he seemed to pause and take in Tony’s attempts with amusement. Then he turned right back to what he was doing. The very thing straight out of Tony’s nightmares.
Two men held Peter bent over an anvil, keeping his shoulders in place. The leader gripped a handful of Peter’s hair and harshly used it to pull his head to the side.
“No!” Tony yelled. “What do you want? I can have it finished soon!”
They ignored him. All sense of decorum or neutrality or keeping things hidden went out the proverbial window as Tony howled and kicked out, straining towards Peter.
Peter, whose shallow breaths were the only outward indication that he was effected. Peter, whose eyes were on Tony and Tony alone.
His eyes were wide, staring at Tony. Tony stared back, desperately, vision blurring around the edges. He didn’t know if it was from tears or if he was about to pass out. Peter tried to give him a trembling smile. Tony wanted to scream. Peter didn’t take his eyes off of him, even as the needle came closer.
Then the needle was in Peter’s neck.
Peter closed his eyes against the pain, face twisting in discomfort. Tony could only watch in horror as the syringe’s contents were emptied into Peter’s precious body.
It took forever or a minute before the needle was removed again. The leader pulling back and staring at Tony with a self-satisfied look on his face. Tony wanted to grab a gun from the men and shoot him with it. He didn’t think he had ever felt this much hatred and rage towards someone before.
“Have fun,” he said. Then he was walking out. Just like that. The men following behind. The four holding Tony were the last to leave, dropping him to the ground before trailing out.
“Peter!” Tony gasped, hurrying over to where Peter was still slumped over the anvil. “Peter!” he grabbed his shoulders. Tony had never been this scared in his life. The world was hazy around the edges and razer-sharp at the centre.
Peter’s eyes fluttered open. They darted around before finally landing on Tony again. “Dad?” he whispered. Tony felt relief flood him, like aloe vera on sunburnt skin.
“Hey kid. Are you ok?”
Peter reached up to feel his neck, wiping away the droplet of blood that had formed at the site of injection. “I’m fine?” Peter said it like that fact confused him. He turned his eyes back towards Tony. “I’m feeling fine.” His brows furrowed. Tony mirrored him. He put the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead, just in case, though he knew a fever wouldn’t have spread that fast.
“Do you feel sick? Nauseous? In pain?” Tony fluttered his hands around.
“No, no, I feel fine. I don’t know why, but I do. Like nothing happened,” Peter assured him. Tony continued frowning, the unease and fear not letting up. It didn’t make any sense. Though whatever it was, it possibly needed time to work. But not feeling anything at all? After it was injected? Tony didn’t like it. He didn’t like anything about this situation, but still.
“Well, my head kinda hurts from where he pulled my hair,” Peter looked up at him hopefully. Tony sighed but smiled over tiredly. He sat properly on the ground before gesturing Peter over. He eagerly clambered over and into his lap, snuggling into his chest. Tony began to rub gentle fingers through Peter’s greasy hair, hands massaging at his smarting scalp.
“Are you ok?” Tony whispered into his ear. Peter’s arms came around his chest, holding him tightly.
“It was really scary,” Peter murmured into his chest. Tony’s heart broke. “I thought they were going to burn my tongue off.” Outrage flushed through Tony’s system.
“Is that what he was going to do?” he asked, barely concealing the rage that wanted to leak into his voice. Peter hummed. Tony glared a hole into the door, hoping that somehow, the heat of his eyes and rage would reach that man.
“I don’t like them touching me.” Peter whimpered. Tony didn’t know what to do. He was almost as helpless as Peter here. He wasn’t calling the shots here. But he could try to do something.
“Well then, we will just have to try hiding you next time. And I have the perfect place for it.” Tony made sure he kept his voice light. He didn’t want Peter thinking too much about that ‘next time’. Peter’s eyes peaked out from his chest.
“Where?” It was muffled, but it was the question Tony was waiting for.
“Here.” Then he held the sides of his ratty brown jacket and wrapped his arms around Peter, covering him in the jacket. “They won’t see you in here.” Peter giggled softly as he was enclosed within Tony’s jacket. “They’ll go “where’s Peter gone?” and I’ll say, “I haven’t a clue, I’ve just been having too many greasy meals!”” Tony bounced his arms slightly, jogging Peter, knocking more giggles out of him. Tony smiled softly as he watched Peter laugh, safe in this space, within the borders of his arms and jacket. He wished it would always be like this. But he couldn’t forget their situation. Or what had just happened.
“Pete, you washed your hands, yet?” Tony called from where he was, rearranging the bed, getting it ready for them.
He heard a splash of water and a chirper “Yep!” and felt a grin tugging at his lips. He was mostly relieved that Peter was fine after the incident earlier, still bubbly and smiley, even if he seemed a bit tired and weaker than usual. Tony tried to push that last thought out of his mind though.
He sat on the bed and just looked over at the kid. His wonder child. Who would have thought it? He thought fondly, turning to brush some dust off the mattress.
Just then, he thought he saw Peter flinch suddenly out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he turned around to look, all he saw was Peter hurrying towards him. He scrambled on top of him to get into bed.
“Woah woah, kid, slow your roll,” Tony laughed, a bit confusedly. “You ok?”
“Mhm,” Peter mumbled. “I’m just tired. I thought I saw some shadows.” Peter gazed up at him.
Tony noticed his hands were still wet where they clutched the blankets. He hadn’t dried them.
“Okay then.” Tony ignored the tiny red flag that was trying to grab attention in his mind and got into bed properly, Peter immediately curling himself into his chest. Like normal. Because this was normal. Everything was fine.
Tony tried to curb the restless unease in his gut and go to sleep.
Things began getting weird slowly. So slowly Tony might not have realised at first if he wasn’t on such high alert.
Peter would suddenly turn around, or turn his head. Or Tony would be talking and turn and find him staring into space blankly. It was subtle, could have been brushed off as it being an off day, or Peter being tired and distracted. Any other day and Tony would have thought that. But not this day. Not with some unknown substance in his kid’s body. Though Peter didn’t seem to think so, he brushed it all off. It was just a shadow, he would say, or I thought I heard something, but it’s nothing.
Tony didn’t think it was nothing.
It became very obvious soon.
Peter’s loud gasp caused Tony to look up from his work quickly. Peter was staring again, but this time it wasn’t blank. Tony almost wished it was because Peter was pale and his eyes were wide with fear.
“Dad!” he turned to look for him, “The snake! It’s come back! Dad!”
Tony got up and his eyes followed Peter’s gaze but he couldn’t see anything. Tony began feeling uneasy.
“Where is it, Pete? I’ll get it out. Nice and easy, just like last time.” No need to panic. He was probably looking in the wrong place.
Peter lifted his arm and pointed to a corner of their cave. “There! Its moving more than last time dad.” He whimpered, free hand closing around Tony’s shirt tightly.
Tony followed where he was pointing. The exact place.
It was empty. Nothing but air and dust and sand. The unease doubled.
“Peter,” Tony began before Peter suddenly jerked back into him.
“It’s moving! It’s coming closer!” Peter’s voice wobbled. “Dad, its coming closer, please get it out!”
“Peter!” Tony crouched down in front of him, trying to get him to focus on him instead. “Kid, there isn’t anything there.”
“No, no, it’s there, it’s right there.” Tears began falling from Peter’s eyes as they were fixated on a spot behind Tony’s shoulder. He turned to look again, just in case, but there was still nothing to be seen.
“Peter.” Tony framed Peter’s face with his hands, dragging it down slightly. “Hey, hey, look at me kid. Look at me for a sec.” Peter darted his eyes down to him before flickering back up again. It continued like that for a moment before Tony managed to finally get Peter’s eyes to fix on him. “Listen to me Peter. There is nothing there. Nothing. I swear. There is no snake here, I promise.”
“But – but-” Peter sobbed. “But I see it – I -” his eyes lifted again to look at his snake but then they widened. “I -” he began, his voice wobbling and confused. “I don’t see it anymore. It’s gone.” But his face turned even more terrified than before. “What’s happening to me? Dad, dad, what’s happening to me?”
Tony felt sick. He wanted to throw up, and scream, and kill every person here besides Peter. He wanted to be wrong. Because he suddenly had a horrifying idea about what it was they injected Peter with.
“Sh, sh, it’s going to be ok, kid. It’s going to be ok. We’ll work it out together.”
A hallucinogen.
After that, Tony decided to keep a closer eye on Peter. Well, it was less of a decision and more of an incessant need. Now that he knew a hallucinogen was coursing its way through his kid’s body, he could only wait and watch what would happen, what the outcome would be.
Tony hated it.
He didn’t know what the hallucinogen was or what it would do or for how long. What other effects could it have on Peter? What if it wasn’t just a hallucinogen but something else? What if he was being slowly poisoned? What if the hallucinogen was just to throw them off what was really happening?
Needless to say, Tony couldn’t sleep. He could barely think anything that wasn’t a downward spiral of possibilities. He filled his day with watching Peter like a hawk, and speeding up with building the armour that would hopefully get them out.
Tony was in the middle of writing notes and edits, another pencil between his teeth, when Peter gasped. Tony looked up quickly, only to see him staring wide eyed down at his hands. His palms were up and he stretched his fingers out, looking down at his hands in horror. Tony dropped both pencils and felt his stomach twist up suddenly.
“Peter?” Tony asked cautiously, approaching. “What’s wrong?”
“My – my hands. I – I can see all the vessels in my hands!” Peters eyes were darting around his hands. Tony looked down at them. He could only see skin. It was dirty, yes, but no vessels. The unease was back with a vengeance.
“I don’t like this,” Peter whimpered. “I don’t want to see them! They go all the way up my fingers. They look so delicate, I don’t like it, what if I rip them? I don’t like this, I don’t like it.” And he began to tear up as his voice cracked.
“Oh no, Peter, no. Its ok.” Tony scooped him up into his arms. “It’s ok, ‘Roo, they don’t rip easily, you won’t rip them, its ok, you’re fine.” He stood there, lightly bouncing him, swaying as Peter whined into his shirt, clutching his hands between them.
His noises eventually died down a bit, and Tony pulled back slightly to look down at him.
“Ok now?” he said softly. Peter sniffled, nodding half-heartedly without taking his head off Tony’s shoulder. He didn’t mind it, just began walking them over to the designated ‘kitchen’ area where they kept their meagre supply of food and water. He poured him a cup and set him down to drink it. Peter stared at him the entire time he drunk from the cup, until he was finishing the last few drops and looked at it.
Suddenly, he was dropping the cup to the ground and staring at his hands again in horror, bringing them up to his face and turning them. Then he shrieked.
“Peter!” Tony exclaimed. “What’s happening?”
“They’re bleeding!” Peter cried out, not taking his eyes off of his hands. “They’re bleeding! The tiny veins tore!”
Tony grabbed hold of his hands, engulfing them in his own. “Hey, hey. Kid, look at me.” Peter was still focused on his hands, trying to wiggle them out of Tony’s, so he hardened his voice and tried again. “Look at me Peter!”
Peter’s head jerked up and he stared at him with wide, watery eyes. “Good.” Tony breathed. He had no idea what he was doing. “That’s good Peter. Focus on me now. Take a deep breath.” Peter breathed and his eyes tried to dart down again. “Hey, hey, no looking down, keep your eyes on me.” Peter’s eyes turned up again. “Now deep breath. Eyes on me.” Peter mimicked Tony as his chest rose and fell.
A memory suddenly rose to the forefront of Tony’s mind, of Rhodey talking him through a panic attack when he was 16, crouched on the floor with him and speaking softly. A pang on longing went through him. Damn, he missed Rhodey so much. He wished he was here, he would probably know what to do here better than him.
“Did I ever tell you about the time Rhodey fished me out of a pond?” Tony asked suddenly. A tiny attempt at a smile began tugging at Peter’s lips, even as he continued taking deep, wobblily breaths.
“No? What happened?” Light began to return to Peter’s eyes as they sparked with curiosity and mirth. Tony tugged him closer into his arms, muscles relaxing slightly.
“It all began with a rather unfortunate dare and a rather unfortunate stubborn streak.”
Tony let Peter’s laughter punctuate the story as it went on, and relaxed all the way. It was over.
It only got worse from there.
The hallucinations were becoming more frequent, and, by the sound of it, more vivid. Tony wished they were nice hallucinations, but had no naive thought they were. Not with the fear-filled gasps or jerks or tears and the way Peter called out to him, for him.
Peter was recovering from the most recent one, curled up in Tony’s lap, sniffling the last of his tears into his shirt. He hadn’t let go of the shirt in a while.
“Dad?” Peter’s voice was still wobbly.
“Yeah?” he whispered back, the moment feeling too fragile for anything louder.
“I’m scared.” Tony’s heart shattered. “I’m really scared.”
“I know.” Tony pressed his mouth to the top of Peter’s head, trying to swallow down the sob in his throat. “I know. I’m scared too.”
“Please don’t leave,” Peter gasped wetly and Tony felt a tear drop down his face.
“I won’t. I won’t leave. I promise.”
At some point, Peter began to not respond to him during the episodes.
It was actually one of the tamer ones. Peter was just staring into space, no fear-filled gasps or tears. Tony was almost relived after the string they had had.
That was, until he tried to snap him out of it.
Before, all it would take was a few words to him, his name called out loudly, maybe a touch. But this time, no matter how much Tony called his name, Peter didn’t respond. Just continued to stare.
Tony felt his heart racing, ice in his veins, panic filling him. “PETER!” he yelled right next to him. nothing. He grabbed his arm, and Peter swayed with it for a moment before his eyes blinked rapidly, focusing back in.
“What?” he mumbled, finally turning his head and looking at Tony. Tony almost felt like he could cry at it, heart beginning to slow again. He pulled him into a rough hug.
“What? What happened? Dad?” Peter asked, confused, but wrapped him arms around Tony’s waist. Tony tried to level his breathing, stroking Peter’s hair.
“You just didn’t respond. That’s all. I was worried.” I was terrified. Tony didn’t say that though. No need to frighten the kid any more than he already was.
The fact that things just kept getting worse meant that now, Tony lived with a constant pit in his stomach, unease as his constant companion. Constantly just on the edge of terrified, like at any moment, the scale could shift, with just a millimetre and he would be thrown head first into a debilitating spiral of unadulterated panic.
Tony learnt that Peter not responding to him, could in fact get worse, contrary to his earlier belief. And it was worse when he wasn’t responding when he was afraid.
Peter gasped and stumbled backwards quickly, eyes darting around something only he could see. Tony started towards him, as he always did.
“Peter, it’s alright, it’s just another one of them. Its fine. We’re alright.” The words were depressingly familiar on his lips by now. But this time, unlike the others, Peter’s eyes didn’t try to desperately latch on him. He didn’t respond at all in fact.
“No no no,” Peter whimpered. Tony stepped swiftly in-between Peter and where he was looking.
“Peter!” Peter was looking right through him. Tony didn’t like how Peter was looking in his direction with a look of such unease. He darted towards him, reaching out for him. It worked last time, after all.
It took too long, once Tony grasped his shoulders, for Peter to come back. For a heart stopping moment, Tony thought it wouldn’t work, that Peter would be stuck there. Tony knew better than most the horror of being stuck inside your own mind, but not like this. Not like this.
Peter blinked quickly, shook his head. Then he looked up at Tony. Tony didn’t know what his face was doing but it must have betrayed something, because Peter’s eyes suddenly welled with tears.
“It happened again, didn’t it?”
Tony just nodded, closing his eyes and bringing Peter forwards, pressing his mouth to his forehead. He breathed out deeply.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered into his chest. Tony curled around him further.
“Don’t be sorry, Roo, it’s not your fault. None of this is.” He pulled him in tighter when he heard a sniffle.
And suddenly he was angry. Angry at the people who captured Peter, and the people who held them captive. Angry at the Ten Rings, for bringing him here, angry at the monsters who did this to Peter. Angry at the universe for allowing this all to happen to Peter, the sweetest soul it had ever created. Tony could believe this whole thing was a divine intervention for him, a punishment for all he had done, his many sins, if not for the fact that Peter was here, being hurt, and he was the last person to ever deserve something like this. He deserved so much more than to be a device in his atonement. And Tony was going to make sure he got it.
“Tell me something nice,” Peter whispered into the dark, head pillowed on Tony’s shoulder.
Tony stared up at the ceiling of the cave, shifting slightly on the lumpy mattress. Arm curled tighter around Peter.
“Hhmm, anything specific?”
“No, just something nice.”
Tony licked his cracked lips. “The stars…. they make pictures in the sky.”
Peter tilted his head towards him. “Really?”
“Really. They are called constellations. Most of them have myths or stories to do with them.” Peter’s eyes glittered with the information and Tony’s heart ached, with longing, with the desire to give him the world. It hurt Tony that Peter hadn’t been given the chance to learn things others took for granted, background knowledge. “Some don’t see them.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I don’t. It’s like connecting the dots, but there are a lot of dots and it gets confusing. Sometimes I just like looking at them. It’s called star gazing.” Tony carded a hand through Peter’s hair and the only sound was their breaths in the dark for a while.
“That sounds nice,” Peter whispered, “I’d like that.” Tony swallowed dryly.
“I’ll take you.”
Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he shifted, turning on his side to look at Tony. He mirrored him.
“Really?” Peter’s smile was like the dawn, sun peaking shyly up from behind the horizon. Tony drank it up. His own lips twitched tiredly, like they couldn’t help it, though his heart hurt.
“I promise. I’ll show you the stars.”
He just hoped he wouldn’t be made a liar.
Tony hoped and prayed that Peter would respond this time. And that was when he learned the true meaning of the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’. Because Peter did respond. He responded in perhaps the worst way Tony could have ever imagined.
“Peter, can you pass me the wrench please?” Tony muttered, distractedly.
“Sure,” Peter chirped happily, jumping up to go get it. Tony hummed at him. He had to dismantle the missile to get into the combustion unit for the –
A clang.
The wrench crashing against stone. Tony turned quickly, mind already screaming no, no, not again, please.
Peter was looking around wildly. He stumbled forward, hands reaching out in every direction.
“Where – where am I?” he whimpered. Tony’s stomach dropped. This was new. Peter had never forgotten where he was before.
“Peter,” Tony began. It was a familiar song and dance by now. “Peter, you’re in the cave. With me.”
“Where am I?” Peter talked right over him. “Please. It’s so dark. Please.”
Tony was going to be sick. That’s what the clenching and churning and pain inside him meant, surely.
“Hey, hey. I’m here. I’m here.” I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to leave you alone.
But Peter was as deaf as he was blind to him.
So, step three. Sight and hearing were out. That left touch. Tony had this. It would be over soon. They always were.
“Peter. Peter, I’m going to touch your shoulder, ok? It’s just me.” Tony approached, talking even though he knew Peter wouldn’t acknowledge it. He still had vain hope. Had to cling to it. He had never so strongly realised why people clung so much to fruitless hope before this hell. He had always been more of the thought of being realistic, and that having those hopes for the impossible was naïve and foolish. Now he understood. Oh how he understood.
When Tony’s hand finally came to rest gently on Peter’s back though, he let out a blood-curdling scream that Tony was sure he would never be able to erase from his mind, and practically flung himself away from the touch.
“NO!”
Tony’s heart was in his throat as he watched Peter back away quickly. That hadn’t happened before. Usually his touch would either snap him out of it, or at least provide him comfort. Not this. It was supposed to help. He was supposed to help. He was only ever meant to provide comfort. His chest constricted sharply.
He watched, frozen, hand still up.
“Please, don’t hurt me. Please!”
Peter knocked into the edge of a table, letting out a cry and Tony made an abortive move towards him but Peter just kept backing away quickly. His back hit the cave wall with a solid thud that had Tony’s spine aching in sympathy, but Peter seemed to hardly notice. He just slid down it, curling up into himself.
“Please. Please don’t hurt me. I just want to know where I am.” His arms came up over his neck, where his head was hunched down between his drawn knees. “I just want my dad,” he whimpered.
Tony turned around and threw up. Vomit joining the taste of salt on his lips.
Peter was asleep now.
Tony’s eyes traced over his peaceful features, heart clenching. It had become so rare to see that expression now. Ironically, sleep was the only place the nightmares didn’t follow, and Tony was pathetically grateful for that fact.
He ran trembling fingers through his hair, crouched down next to Peter’s cot. He let his head rest on the edge, eyes closing and finally letting out the tears that had been gathering there. They soaked the sheet beneath him, probably going under and to the flimsy mattress but he didn’t care. He muffled sobs that felt as though they had been lodged in his throat for months. Tony didn’t think he had ever been this helpless. Or this heart-broken. And that was saying something considering Tony had lived most of his life trying to bury his heartbreak, his pain. But this pain couldn’t be buried. Not when his kid was living through nightmares and Tony could do nothing. Not when, in the midst of those episodes, Peter flinched from his touch. He would call out for him but Tony didn’t come. Couldn’t.
Tony didn’t think there was anything worse than your child calling out for you in fear, and you being unable to respond. To have to just watch them go through the horror.
This was by far the cruellest torture the Ten Rings had put him through. Tony was practically begging for the water trough to come back. He would prefer anything to this.
“Can you tell me about the stars again? Please?” Peter whispered. Tears were still wet on their faces. It was night again.
Tony cleared his throat, tried to clear the gunk built up from crying. “People use them for navigation. They help people know where they are going.”
Peter sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve before laying his head back on Tony’s chest. They were under the blankets. Peter felt safer that way and Tony wasn’t going to take away the little childish comfort he had in this hell. So, when Peter asked for the blankets, Tony snuggled down with him and threw the blankets over their heads.
“That’s nice,” he breathed. “It means that people would never be lost. They would always find their way home again.” His youthful innocence wrenched at Tony’s heart. Tony breathed out shakily.
“Do you want to know something else? Something nice?”
Peter peaked up, his eyes wide and trusting. Tony tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, tenderly pushing a curl off his forehead. Peter leaned into the touch like a kitten, never breaking their eye contact.
“You’re the brightest star in my sky.”
Tony discovered the hard way (which was practically just his way at this point) that their cave was a veritable death trap. When Peter enters his episodes, he loses his sight and hearing and reacts to things that aren’t there. And he does this in what is essentially a military construction site. There was fire for goodness sake. And sharp things that could hurt him!
These things only clicked in Tony’s mind, of course, when Peter was heading right for them. The episode had been unpleasant but tame. There hadn’t been any screaming or crying and Tony had learnt to count his blessings and appreciate them while they lasted. So, he was just left listening to Peter’s whimpering and occasional gasps. Tony still talked to him, for his own sanity, and because he had not quite let go of the hope in him that Peter would hear him, would be able to take some comfort in his nightmare. He watched him stumbling around, trying to imagine what it was he was seeing this time. Perhaps he was exploring a forest? Could Peter even remember what a forest looked like?
Tony looked away for one second – one second – and when he looked up again, Peter was close to the fire. Way too close. And he wasn’t stopping. Of course he wasn’t, he didn’t know it was there!
“Peter!” Tony yelled in a futile attempt to get him to stop. He didn’t, of course, but Tony was already sprinting over. It was a terrifying image, Peter, blank-faced, walking right towards a fire.
Tony grabbed him when he was 2 feet from the flames. Then the screaming began.
Peter began flailing his arms around and kicking his legs. He caught Tony with a kick to the stomach, making him almost double over, gasping. Tony brought him closer, held him to his chest as he dragged him away from the fire. From the danger.
That wasn’t how it was to Peter, however. For all he knew, a strange force had picked him up and was taking him somewhere. And with the state things were, this force was bad.
Tony took them over to the opposite side of the cave, somewhere clear of all the equipment, where they couldn’t hurt Peter. Peter kept screaming, pleading words making their way through as he tried to escape. When Tony didn’t let him go, he began to cry.
“Let me go! Please!” Tony did. He couldn’t take this. His heart was breaking.
Peter tried to run, but he was running towards the rest of the cave, so Tony grabbed him before he could pass him.
“NO!” Peter’s limbs went flying again. This time it was his hand that connected to Tony’s chest. Tony grunted, chest still sore, pain lancing its way through him.
Tony let him go again, against the wall of the cave, rubbing his chest as he retreated. Again Peter tried, and again was met with the same response. Again and again it happened, until Peter seemed to finally give up, collapsing against the wall, sobbing his heart out.
“Please let me go. Please.” He whimpered into his knees. Tony thought that they were going to be even more dehydrated with the amount they had both been crying recently. Tony also hadn’t known he had this many tears to shed.
The next time Peter cried because Tony touched him, it wasn’t because he was imagining an unseen evil force taking him away. It was because the touch burned.
The episodes were increasing. Tony tried to get Peter to sleep most of the time, because when he slept, he had peace, and also because he had hope that if he slept, his body would burn though whatever hallucinogen they had given him quicker.
This, in combination with the episodes, meant that the time Tony had with Peter – his Peter – was severely reduced. Tony cherished the little time they had dearly.
They were sat near the fire, not too close, Tony felt sick if Peter ever got too close to it now, eating whatever measly amount of food they had been given that day. Tony was telling Peter more stories about his life before. He made sure to filter them, only telling him the fun stories, or funny ones, or ones about his friends.
Peter was giggling, and Tony felt the unease that knotted his insides constantly these days loosen a little. He had missed that sound more than his comfortable bed at home. More than safety itself.
“Rhodey sounds fun. And nice.” Peter smiled.
“He is,” Tony smiled back, feeling a pang in his heart at the thought of him. “He’s my best friend. Was always there for me.” Oh, how Tony wished Rhodey was here now. He didn’t know how much longer he could last in this hell, watching his kid cry and scream daily without being able to do a damn thing to help. He missed him so much.
“Do you think he would like me?” Peter asked shyly.
“Oh, I know he would love you, Pete. Who wouldn’t? You’re the greatest kid out there.”
Peter smiled brightly, shuffling over to lean into him. Tony wrapped his arm around him, tucking him safely into his chest. He revelled in this moment of peace, Peter humming to himself quietly as he finished off his dinner, feeling his body relaxed against his. He could almost forget that hours ago, he was watching Peter screaming and crying. That in a few hours, he would probably be in the same position again. He stroked his fingers through Peter’s hair, pressed a kiss there and tried to forget.
They got a few hours. Tony learnt to be grateful for that; sometimes they would have barely 10 minutes before the next one started. A few hours was good.
(Tony had learnt to be grateful for a lot of things here)
This time, there were warning signs. Sometimes there weren’t, but Tony had picked up on the ones that show up. Peter began to be spacey and distracted, eyes darting then blanking then focusing again. Tony spotted them this time and tried to move him to a clearer area of the cave. He got most of the way, they only had 2 tables left to get past when Peter dropped.
He gasped sharply, holding his arms out from his body to the side and bending his knees as if balanced on something. Tony felt his stomach begin the trodden down route down. Peter moved his head, looking around. His eyes were darting, face pale. Then, before Tony could begin his ritual of unheard words, Peter spun around sharply. So sharply that he lost balance and spun hard into a nearby table. Tools and metal and Peter all crashed to the ground, the noise of it overshadowing Tony’s cry.
“Peter!” He rushed forward, needing to make sure Peter was alright, that he hadn’t been hurt by anything. He spotted a small bit of blood on his shirt and his heart froze, eyes quickly scanning to try to find to source. There was a gash on the inside of his arm, but Tony couldn’t see it properly, couldn’t determine how bad it was. He tried to get a better look at it but Peter was shielding it, whimpering.
“Sorry kid,” Tony whispered, remembering his fear from last time, as he reached out to turn the arm towards himself. He just needed to see how serious it was, then he could let the kid go.
He expected the scream of fear. He didn’t expect the scream to sound like he was in pain.
But that was exactly what it sounded like, like Tony had grabbed that metal pole on the ground next to them and run it through him.
“Stop!” Peter screamed. “Stop! It burns! It burns! You’re hurting me!”
Tony let go of him so fast you would think he was the one getting burnt. Tony gasped, eyes widening in horror, hand still raised.
Peter drew his arm to his chest, curling around it and crying.
Tony stumbled back. ‘You’re hurting me’. The words pounded in his head, rattling around like bolts in a metal box. Tony wasn’t even sure what he was feeling, couldn’t comb through the mess that was horror and fear and pain and helplessness.
“Ouch,” Peter whimpered quietly. Tony reached out an arm, almost involuntarily, even as he stumbled back again. His back hit the cave wall and he slid down it, not taking his wide eyes off of Peter. It was only then that he became aware of his own shaky, uneven breaths.
It was only when things began to get a bit hazy for him that he realised what was happening. Oh, he thought. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years.
He drew in a sharp breath, trying to get his jagged breathing under control. He tried to let out a calmer exhale but what came out instead was a sob, torn from his chest as if by force. It was like a dam had been opened, and suddenly he was sobbing. Tony supposed this had been building for a while and in a twisted way, what better time to let it out than a time when Peter wouldn’t be aware of it like now?
He set his eyes on Peter, watching him through a film of tears as they both cried. He could do nothing but watch. And it was killing him.
Tony struck the hot metal in his hands with a hammer as hard as he could. He drew his arm back and hit it again. And again. And again. All his pent up frustration and fear and anger he poured out onto the unsuspecting piece of metal, taking the opportunity presented with shaping it. Sweat lined his body and he felt like he was burning up, from the heat or the anger, he didn’t know.
“Dad?” A voice called out and the sounds of banging metal stopped abruptly, the quiet ringing in its wake.
Tony breathed heavily for a moment, just staring down at the tools in his hand. Then he turned his head to see Peter. Tony hated that his first action was to see if his eyes were hazy. They weren’t and Tony let out a small breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Peter’s eyes were focused, if a little concerned. He was approaching Tony from where he had been organising wires (what Tony deemed a harmless job if something were to happen). “Are you ok?”
“What?” Tony’s attention snapped back. Tony hadn’t realised he was shaking. It was probably from the exertion though. Probably.
“Are you ok?” Peter asked again. Tony couldn’t help it. He snorted. Peter frowned. “Dad?”
“Sure I am, Peter. Just Peachy.” Tony always tried to shield Peter from the worst of his emotions, but he was reaching the end of his rope.
“Oh,” Peter said quietly. He looked down, scuffing his shoe on the ground. “Ok.”
Tony deflated. All the energy and fight draining away. “Hey. Peter, I’m sorry.” Tony left the workstation and went over to crouch in front of him. “I’m sorry.” Peter looked up then. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just tired. And scared. Today has been a really bad day. I didn’t mean to direct it at you.” He silently watched him for a minute before nodding. Stepping closer to Tony and into the fold of his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered into his hair.
“It’s ok,” Peter whispered back. “I get it. I’m scared too, but at least I don’t have to watch it. I really hated it when I watched them hurt you. I get it.”
Tony closed his eyes and pulled him closer. “What did I do to deserve such a perfect kid?” He felt Peter’s smile through his tank top. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, just holding each other close.
“Do you want to hear something nice?” Peter asked him. They were sitting on the ground now. “Will it make you feel better? It always makes me feel better.”
Tony was just so tired, and emotionally wrung out. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think I would love to hear something nice.”
“You remember how you told me people use stars for navigation?”
Tony hummed.
“I think that if I followed the stars, they would always lead me to you.” Peter looked at him, gaze heavy with meaning. And Tony remembered where it was Peter thought the stars lead to. Home.
“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” Tony smiled, chest feeling warm. He felt like his chaffed insides had been soothed, cool water on a parched throat. “Thank you.”
He rested his back against the table, Peter laying curled into his chest. And he breathed.
Things began getting better slowly. Tony only found this out as the next time Peter had an episode, he actually responded.
Tony honestly hadn’t thought he would, he had given up on that a long time ago, but this time, when he called out to Peter, Peter answered.
The episode had been going on for at least a few minutes and Tony had banished himself to an area where he wouldn’t be able to touch Peter, after getting him to what he deemed a safe spot.
When Peter began crying softly into his curled up knees, however, Tony couldn’t stop himself anymore. His heart was yanked so hard it caused words to fall from his lips.
“Shh, its ok Peter, its ok, I’m here.” He called the words out but didn’t come closer. Since that one time, he hadn’t dared touch him in these episodes. He couldn’t bear a second time. “Its going to be ok.”
“Dad?” Peter’s trembling voice came. Tony felt his heart begin beating harder. There was no way…
“Yeah, I’m here, kid, its ok.” And then because he really couldn’t help himself, “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” the word was breathed out and it was as if it had blown out a forest fire in Tony. Relief swept through him so hard he felt his eyes sting. “Yeah, I can hear you. Where are you?”
“I’m right here, Pete, right here with you.” Tony crept closer. He paused in front of him and crouched to be at his level. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath before what he was about to say. “Is it ok if I touch you?” Peter nodded. “Ok, I’m going to touch you now. On your arm. Ready?” Tony didn’t think he was ready.
Peter nodded again. Tony held his breath as he slowly extended his hand out, hesitating slightly before finally laying it softly on Peter’s arm.
Nothing happened for a long moment. Then Peter relaxed, just slightly, and Tony let out his breath. It was ok. It was ok, his touch didn’t hurt him. Elation filled him. Peter was getting better.
Peter slid his other hand across his knee and up his arm to reach Tony’s hand, gripping it tightly when he found it.
This was ok. This was great. He could reach him now. Again. It was reversing. They had passed the worst and it was going to get better.
Tony felt as though he could finally – finally – see the light at the end of the tunnel. The long, dark tunnel. It was ending.
And now Tony would hold Peter’s hand though it.
For the first time in what felt like quite the long time, Tony was filled with hope. It was going to be ok.
The only downside of things getting better, is that Peter could remember the hallucinations again. When he had been having the deep ones, the ones that made Tony throw up and huddle in a corner, clamping down on his hands to stop himself reaching out, Peter couldn’t remember. He was in too deep and when he resurfaced, it was as if it had never happened, nothing but a terrible memory seared into Tony’s mind.
But now, these hallucinations weren’t as deep, so Peter remembered them. And that was a different kind of torture for Tony.
Peter lay with his head in Tony’s lap, trying to get his breathing under control after another one had passed. Tony stroked his hair, trying to infuse as much comfort and love in the action as he could.
“Its almost over now,” Tony whispered to him. “Almost done. Just a bit more now.”
Peter nodded, head shifting the fabric Tony’s trouser leg.
“Do you remember all of it?” Tony couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to know as much as he could so he could help. He hadn’t quite figured out how he would help, but being proactive about it made him feel less useless.
Peter tilted his head and hummed considering. “Bits and pieces. I mostly remember being scared.” Tony’s heart clenched. Peter looked up at him then. “And your voice. I remember hearing your voice. And it helps remind me that everything will be ok. That you’re with me. It makes me feel better.”
Tony didn’t know what he was feeling. A strange amalgamation of emotions that he couldn’t hope to parse through. He had a lump in his throat. And his eyes were stinging. But he didn’t think he was sad?
“You always make me feel better too,” Tony choked out. He pulled Peter into an upright position, drawing him into a tight hug. He buried his face in his curls and tried to will himself not to cry. Peter held onto him just as tightly. “You’re my happy place.”
Peter snuggled into him further. “Same.” And Tony couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Same,” Tony repeats mockingly, Peter giggling into his chest. “We were having a moment kid.”
Tony looked down and was almost blinded by the force of Peter’s smile. He swept a curl off his forehead before placing a kiss there. “I love you, Peter.”
“I love you too, dad.”
Peter hadn’t had an episode for a full day when the man who was responsible for the mess came back. He stepped into their room leisurely, as if without a care in the world. Tony had to almost physically restrain himself from lunging at him. As it was, he shot up from his seat and shoved Peter behind him. There wasn’t anything to hide anymore; they knew what Peter meant to him, that’s why they had injected him with that cursed hallucinogen, and if they hadn’t known before, Tony was sure they had a week’s worth of video footage that proved exactly that.
He wasn’t going to let them touch Peter again.
The man just smirked at him. “I certainly hope you have learnt your lesson, Stark.”
Tony grit his teeth to prevent himself spitting at the man, conscious of Peter’s little hands gripping the back of his shirt.
Then the man’s face smoothed over. “I want my Jericho tomorrow. Or worse will befall the boy.” His gaze lingered on Tony for a long minute, darting down just once to look at Peter. Tony growled at him. The smirk returned to his face, and then he swept out again.
Tony’s eyes flew around the room, taking in all that they had done. He relaxed slightly and turned around to face Peter. Peter was already looking up at him, face trusting if a little anxious.
“What do you say we blow this joint?” Tony murmured quietly to him, a smirk teasing his lips. Peter grinned, gripping Tony’s hands.
“Going to see the stars?”
“Yeah,” Tony gazed down at him, filled with love, “Yeah, I’m going to show you the stars.”
“Let’s do it.”