Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. Any lines from Spider-Man: Homecoming are not mine!
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! I'm SO sorry about the delay! Real life's been busy, especially around the holiday season (I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrated! I should have the next chapter up before Christmas, lol). Plus, a couple of these sections just didn't come easily, no matter how many times I sat down to get at them. But how about that Infinity War trailer, huh?! It's been quite a while since I've been so excited yet sooooo nervous about a movie, lol. But anyway, thank you all for being so patient with me, and thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot to me and keep me going! To make up for it, this is a nice long one for ya! Plus, there's a new character alert in here. It's sooner than I planned, but said character was very insistent to maneuver his way in here, lol. So with all that said, hope you enjoy! :-)
In response to guest: You'd be right! But sooner or later, it's gonna be harder to tell that for poor Tony...
In response to Kushio3: Thank you so much for your review! This guy has plenty of people to play whoever he wants to get to Tony :-) I will say you're right about it not actually being the Ten Rings, as yup, that is just to make Tony squirm. Thank you so much, I'm so happy that you enjoyed it! And that you're enjoying everyone's interactions! It would be *very* awesome for Peter to fix Rhodey's leg braces for him, I love this idea! Thank you for bringing this up! Consider it included! :-) Thank you again!
Chapter 11– Fathers and Sons
"So, what have we got so far?"
Pepper and Rhodey exchanged a glance from where they were sitting next to each other on one of the couches in the spacious living room, both briefly nodding before she started quickly typing something on the keyboard on her lap. She glanced ahead when the large monitor appeared digitally in front of them, displaying a news story about the near disaster at the ferry the evening before.
"Since recruited by Tony a couple months ago, Spider-Man's actively been trying to... earn his spot on the team, shall we say?" the CEO explained, glancing at where Steve was sitting on her other side before looking over at one of the adjacent couches where Natasha was perched with Sam leaning against the arm next to her. "Just small stuff around the city at first. But he was getting restless and really wanted to do more. Which led us to this incident. According to Spider-Man, there's a group of arms dealers out there who had somehow gotten their hands on some Chitauri technology after you guys fought them all those years ago and used it to make weapons."
"Any idea how that could have happened?" Steve wondered, leaning forward a bit as he looked over the article with interest as he absently brushed his fingers over his wrapped arm, which was still stinging a bit beneath the bandage. Luckily, all the injuries he'd received after more of the building had collapsed hadn't been too serious, and it hadn't taken Pepper long to finish tending to them after the heated confrontation with Rhodey.
"No, not really," Pepper muttered. "Department of Damage Control was thorough with cleanup and repair operations both in the Tower and in other areas. I suppose some of it could have been picked up randomly by others, but to actually be turned into weapons? No idea."
"Were they the first ones on the scene?" Natasha pressed thoughtfully. "Both here or at other locations?"
"I think we had a team of salvage workers who were first contracted to do some cleanup before Tony called in Damage Control," Rhodey replied. "Someone through the city."
"Would you be able to find out who those salvage workers were?"
"I'm sure I could track it down in the files somewhere, we always keep track of who comes in and out of this building," Pepper muttered, lightly worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she began to run a mental list of where that information could be found. "Or figure out who knows that information."
Steve nodded, mulling these details over. "Just a thought," he said. "Go ahead, please continue."
"So, Spider-Man decided to go after these arms dealers with this Chitauri weaponry," Pepper told them. "He didn't really get far. Apparently, at the head of this group is a man who he's described to us as 'bird-like'. He flies around using these metallic wings, and–!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Sam cut in with a frown. "You mean there's someone else running around with a metallic wings gimmick now? That's not cool, man..."
"Well, you weren't the first bird of the team either, Sam," Natasha quipped as she glanced up at him.
Sam met her gaze, a grin spreading across his face. "That may be, but he ain't got wings."
Natasha simply smirked.
Steve quietly cleared his throat, attempting to get everyone back on track.
"So, anyway, Tony looked into the claims about the arms dealers and got the FBI involved." Pepper sighed as she gazed at the news story looming in front of her. "They were on that ferry, ready to move in when that deal went down. But Spider-Man didn't know that, and everything backfired. That's why the ferry nearly sank. Tony was furious..."
Hearing her voice start to falter and catch, Rhodey continued for her, "The FBI managed to round up most these guys. But not the guy with wings and I think one other. And no one's talkin'. We're thinking this bird man could possibly have something to do with that building explosion and Tony's disappearance, as it wouldn't have taken much for him to get up to that rooftop. And he wouldn't be too happy having Iron Man intervening in his business."
Steve thought this over. "So do you have any leads on this... man with wings? He seems like he could be a likely candidate."
"Yeah, I've got one, but I'm not sure how good it is." Rhodey took the keyboard from Pepper and quickly typed something in. The screen before them changed from the news story about the ferry to a police report and driver's license photo. He glanced down at his phone when he felt it vibrate, seeing Happy was calling him. Again. Sighing, he ignored it. He realized he was leaving the head of security waiting, but he'd forgotten all about calling him when he'd discovered the renegade Avengers hiding out in the Tower. The other man would just have to wait.
"This is Aaron Davis," the colonel explained. "Apparently he wanted to make a deal with these guys about buying a weapon, but he decided against it when he realized just what sort of weapons they were selling. Despite having a bit of a record, he doesn't seem to be a bad guy. Just wants the crazy weaponry out of his neighborhood. Spider-Man already talked to him, telling us Davis didn't know anything about the guy with wings, but it wouldn't hurt to have another chat with him, anyway. Happy and I were gonna go this morning, see if we could jog his memory a little bit."
Steve nodded. "Good idea," he agreed, glancing at the blonde woman. "Nat, why don't you join them? Sometimes, people being questioned will say different things to different people."
Natasha nodded. "Sure. Haven't interrogated someone in a while. Could be fun."
Rhodey arched an eyebrow in her direction. The assassin simply smiled sweetly in return.
"Sam's got some footage on Redwing from that building before it collapsed further last night that he was going to look through to see if he could find anything helpful," the Super Soldier continued, and the man in question quickly bent down to pick up the backpack resting by his feet before he began to dig through it. "And based on what he finds, I was thinking of trying to get another look at the area down by the harbor while there's daylight. There could possibly be something easier to see now than at night, something I could have missed. Even though there most likely isn't anything to be found there now..."
He paused before turning to Pepper, appearing slightly hesitant. "Though I did find a couple things last night."
The CEO instantly straightened her posture ever so slightly. "What did you find?" she asked in nearly a whisper, attempting to keep her voice level.
Steve's brow furrowed before he cast his light gaze to Sam. Falcon, now with Redwing under his arm, sighed as he slowly passed his backpack over to the Captain.
Pepper leaned a little closer as Steve began to dig around inside. She held her breath and folded her hands tightly in her lap, bracing herself for things that certainly couldn't be pleasant. She allowed the tiniest hint of a smile when Rhodey set a hand on her knee, appreciating the silent support.
"Well, there's this," the Super Soldier muttered. "It doesn't necessarily have to be Tony's, I suppose, but it was at the site..."
For a moment, the CEO could believe that the black suit jacket, one that was torn in places and burned around some of the edges, didn't belong to the man she'd shared so much of both her professional and personal life with. She wanted to believe that. But it didn't last too long before she couldn't deny the reality when something caught her eye, and she reached forward with slightly shaking hands to take it from him.
"It's his," she confirmed softly, brushing some lingering ash off the soft material that she felt like she'd affectionately straightened out for Tony what felt like so long ago now. She opened the jacket a little to reveal the seam of the inner lining of the left shoulder, which was stitched with bright pink thread.
"It tore before an important week-long conference he had to lead," Pepper continued, smiling slightly as she recalled the memory. "I'd offered to fix it for him so it wouldn't get worse, but this was the only thread I had on me at the time since I was stitching one of my skirts that's this color. He'd constantly give me a hard time about it, saying he'd have to fix it again with the right color himself even though no one would see it unless he showed them." Her voice wavered as a thin line of tears formed in her eyes. "But he never did..."
The colonel tightened his hold on her knee a little, and she took a deep breath and furiously blinked before she folded the jacket neatly and draped it on her lap. She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to Steve, willing herself to to stay focused.
"What else was there?"
Steve sighed as he reached into the backpack yet again, rummaging around a little before pulling out what appeared to be a small, metallic sphere. "I'm sure you'll recognize this."
Pepper turned the spherical object, cool in her palm when the Captain dropped it there, in her fingers until she paused when her gaze landed on the black symbol printed on it. She gasped quietly when she immediately recognized the crossed swords surrounded by ten interlocking rings, and Rhodey leaned closer to get a better look.
"The Ten Rings?" she wondered, glancing over at the colonel. "There's no way they could be involved in this, could they?" Not again. She didn't want to even begin to imagine Tony in the hands of the terrorist organization for a second time, not after those three months he spent in that Afghan cave.
Rhodey briefly shook his head, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully. "I haven't heard any official reports about any activity from them," he told her. "Not since that whole Mandarin charade. And that wasn't even them."
"So we're likely dealing with someone who knows about Tony's time with the Ten Rings." Pepper's tone made it more of a statement than a question.
"Which isn't entirely private information," Rhodey reminded her. "Doesn't necessarily help us narrow it down."
Maybe not... But still, it was something. If anything, it told them that they were dealing with someone who had the resources to, at the very least, make it appear that the Ten Rings was somehow involved in the billionaire's disappearance. And, possibly even more importantly, proved that Peter had nothing to do with it. Not that she'd had any doubt about that, but it was still nice to hold a piece of solid evidence in her own hand, and maybe it was something that she could use to help ease some of the teen's lingering guilt.
But before she could voice any of these thoughts aloud, Rhodey let out a long suffering sigh as he looked down at his cell phone when it rang once again, only to see Happy's name flashing across the screen. Again. "Damn it... Sorry, guys, I'll just take this and get it over with," he muttered apologetically, rising from the couch and walking away from the group with a slight wince. He answered the call and brought the phone to his ear before answering in clear agitation.
"What, Happy?" A pause. "This had better be good. Damn good, you hear me?"
The CEO watched after him with concern before a gentle voice quietly reached her ears. "Pepper."
Turning, she saw Steve gazing back at her with a look that was on the verge of sympathy. "What is it?"
The Captain sighed. "There was... one more thing," he told her.
Pepper stiffened. There was something in his tone that she didn't like. But it was with determination in her voice that she said, "Show me."
Steve studied her impassive features for a brief moment before he nodded. He reached into the backpack for a third time, and Pepper's breath caught in her chest when she saw what he was offering her. She slowly reached out, almost hesitantly taking the half of a broken, dirtied golden faceplate of an Iron Man helmet and cradling it delicately in her hands. A thin line of tears formed in her eyes as she ran thin, trembling fingers over the cracked metallic surface, unable to stop a couple from escaping and rolling down her cheeks.
Uncertainly, Steve reached out and lightly wrapped his hand around hers in effort to give her even a little bit of comfort that likely wouldn't do much good, his light gaze faltering as the shaking in it stilled before she grasped his tightly in return.
Before anyone could say another word, Rhodey came back over, and Natasha leaned forward a bit while Sam slowly sat up on the couch he'd camped out on to start going through the drone's footage from the night before when they saw the look of disbelief on his face. Pepper and Steve both looked up from the broken faceplate, the Super Soldier's brow furrowing while the CEO took a deep breath as she gazed at her friend in confusion.
"Rhodey, what...?"
"Spider-Man remembered something significant," the colonel murmured, his gaze once again zeroing in on the man out of time. "It wasn't the man with wings he saw on top of that building with them." He paused, appearing to almost be uncertain of how to proceed. His voice caught a bit when he finally did.
"... It was Barnes."
The electric razor hummed quietly as he ran it quickly but carefully over the right side of his head, and he squinted a bit in the mirror as he made sure it was as even as possible to the left. It had been a little too long since he'd freshened up his new style, and he was glad that he and his two companions had found a new spot to lay low for a little while to give him this chance. Not that a run-down motel in the middle of who-knew-where was ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but it gave them a chance to just rest. Granted, he was more than familiar with life constantly on the move, but it was much too close for comfort to how his life had been before. Before, when he'd had no choice but to keep moving. Before, when blood had seemed to be permanently stained on his hands. Before, when he hadn't had a place to rest.
He switched off the razor, setting it aside before he gazed at his reflection carefully in the dusty mirror. He brushed his fingers through the light-colored hair that he had left down the center of his head, forming a mohawk. A slight smirk appeared at the corner of his lips when he remembered one of his companions offering to give him the new look when he'd first decided he needed a change to make blending into the crowd a little easier, but he hadn't trusted the other man anywhere near his hair despite his claims that he "had experience with that sort of thing". He'd only ever let one other person near his hair, and his new friend certainly wasn't it.
The hint of a cheerful look vanished as his gaze ran over his paler complexion, the dark rings under his eyes, and how bloodshot his eyes were. He appeared as exhausted as he felt, having not slept for more than maybe about a half hour at a time tops– on a good day– since the prison break. He was too... on edge, too alert of their predicament and need to be aware of their situation at all times to truly allow his guard to be dropped. His quiver and bow were never out of reach. He'd been here before, this life on the run, and it was just as draining this time as the last. But as draining as it was, it was necessary. Necessary for self-preservation, for survival, as had been drilled into him all those years before that it was just second nature now.
But oh how he just wanted to rest.
It was a luxury that couldn't be afforded.
He absently ran the water, watching with disinterest as the short hairs he'd shaved off swirled down the drain. He then ran his hands over the sides of his head, not even having something to apply to soothe the slight sting. A ghost of a smile returned to his face when he allowed himself to think about the cheerful, musical laughter of the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world when she saw him for the first time with the new look, when he remembered her playful chiding about how it was something she would have to get used to.
But the look instantly vanished again. It was something he hadn't given her time to get used to. And he wasn't sure when, or if, she'd have that chance.
One day. That was all the time he'd allowed himself to be back in her presence, in her arms. Those arms, those hands, that had slowly, diligently, single-handedly taken down every brick of the wall of his past he'd constructed around himself. It was only with her that he allowed that wall to be dismantled, which she did every time with a love and care he'd never experienced before.
One day. That was all the time he'd allowed himself to be around his three rapidly growing children. One day to build tall skyscrapers out of colorful Lego pieces. One day to marvel over a heartfelt– and quite well done– drawing to hang on the refrigerator. One day to hold close in his arms– those same arms that had caused so much death and destruction– and rock the smallest of the bunch to sleep for his afternoon nap. One day to spend with the three pieces of his heart who saw him plainly and still lovingly called him "daddy".
Before he'd met her, he'd never envisioned himself being a family man. He'd always been moving, his double life had– at times– blurred so much that it had become damn near impossible to distinguish what side he was actually on, and his own tumultuous and fractured family life had kept him from wanting one of his own.
But she... she had changed his mind on everything. He had met her by chance, after he had been severely wounded by his criminal mentor at the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders and she, working as a nursing assistant at the time, had helped to get him back on his feet. He'd been much younger then, much more angry at the world, and hadn't really thought much of her after their brief encounter. But when another mission of his had gone south a few years later, and he once again wandered into the ER and was greeted by her scolding gaze and careful, caring hands when she saw his bruised and bloodied form, he couldn't help but admit that something about her put him at ease. He didn't find himself flinching at her touch when she reached for him to apply a stitch, to check a vital, or to wrap a fresh bandage. He didn't find himself wondering about her intentions or if there were any ulterior motives he needed to keep an eye out for. For the first time he could remember, he had been able to relax around her. Not completely, but it was a start. And that certainly was a change for him.
It was why he had been relieved when they'd taken their acquaintance a step further, and then further still when they moved in together into a small farmhouse in the country that definitely needed some renovation work done– something he had ultimately made into quite an extensive project. She had seen him at his worst, when he had done things he still regretted to this day, and had held him while he fell apart, but she loved him even still. She quieted his conflicted soul, gave him a sense of peace he'd never before experienced. She stilled him. Not only that, but she'd provided him a place to stay, a place to rest and stop moving, a place he could call home, for the first time he could recall. And that was something she'd given him that he knew he'd never be able to repay her for.
And children... children had never even been on his radar. After spending his childhood with an alcoholic father, after harboring resentment about how that behavior had not only harmed him and his older brother but also cost them the lives of both of their parents so suddenly, and after spending a few years in an orphanage, the thought of being a father terrified him to his very core. He was always moving, he had two very different lives that he had to keep up with. It was too dangerous. No, a father was something he could never afford to be.
While their first child had admittedly been unexpected, he couldn't deny that despite the near crippling fear of how this would change their lives and how he was uncertain if this was a role he could take on– and he had played many roles in his life– that he was also... curious, filled with wonder. And when he held his firstborn son in his arms for the first time, his heart was nearly broken by all the new, powerful emotions he couldn't give a name to that poured out of him. This was home, he knew. That's what this new sensation was. Family. Stability.
A father was something he had once thought he could never be. But "daddy" was something he certainly could be.
They were married not long after, and a few years later, they welcomed their second child, a baby girl. By this point, he had slowed down considerably. He didn't feel the need to keep moving anymore, there was only one place he wanted to be– at home on his farm with his wife and two children. They gave his life a purpose like nothing ever had before, they kept him grounded. His dangerous double life had faded far into the background, and he had been granted a new opportunity to use his skills for only good, though only on the agreement that his family was kept off any records of any organizations so they'd never have to be involved in his line of work. His life had somehow turned into something he could be proud of, and he had never been in a better place. The news that they had been expecting their third child had genuinely made his heart swell with love and excitement, and holding his second son in his arms for the first time had made him feel as though his life truly was complete.
But he had thrown that all away when he'd agreed to help his teammates, his other family, when they were being torn apart at the seams from the inside out. And for what? He'd been retired after the mission in Sokovia, he'd finally told himself that enough was enough and put his bow and quiver away– out of sight, out of mind– so he could focus on his wife and three children. She'd needed him... but so had his team. He had made the decision to come out of retirement– apparently, things all went to shit if he wasn't around– because he felt, he knew, in his very bones that it was the right thing to do. If faced with the same choice a second time, he'd make the same one. But despite this obligation, the selfish part of him still wished he'd made a different decision. Oh how he wished he'd chosen his heart... But because of the decision he'd made, the one he still knew was right, he was moving again, moving without a place to rest.
And oh how he just wanted to rest.
One day. It was why he'd given himself only one day to rest surrounded by the people he loved more than life itself, and those who loved him in return. It was why he'd given himself only one day to rest in the only place he'd ever considered home, the one place where he could sleep through an entire night without his bow in easy reach or keeping one eye or ear open, where he could allow himself to lower his guard. He could have stayed longer, he knew. And he would have. After all, there were no records at all of his family that existed, and only a handful of people knew of their connection to him. But with those who were now hunting him, he knew it was a chance he couldn't take. He wouldn't do that to the most important people in his life. He couldn't get them dragged into this mess, not when he was a wanted criminal just for trying to help out his team.
Leaving his family right as the sun was rising, kissing his wife and children goodbye while they still slept, was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life. But it had to be done. He had to do it for them, even though it crushed him to do so. And so he'd walked out the door without looking back, making sure no trace of his presence from his brief rest was left behind. She would understand. It wasn't the first time he'd stolen away like a thief in the night, sometimes leaving her wondering if he'd actually been there at all. His children would hopefully one day understand. They were young yet, but in time, he felt like they would. This life was never going to be easy, he'd known that back when he first took this path.
And now he was moving again. Moving without stopping, moving without rest. Because it was necessary. For self-preservation, for survival. And so he kept moving. Because he had to.
Once the sink was clean, he sighed as he shut off the water and ran a weary hand through his styled hair. He'd looked worse, he admitted. A hint of a smile returned to his face as that voice he loved to hear more than any other once again echoed in his ears, and he found he agreed with her. It was something she– they– would have to get used to.
Then, his whole body tensed when he heard quiet footsteps quickly approaching the bathroom before a timid yet anxious knock came from the door. A brief moment passed before he allowed his muscles to relax slightly, one by one, as he forced his breathing into a calm rhythm. He likely knew who was bothering him, despite telling him not to. And while they were both part of the same team, despite how they'd taken a long trip together to get to Germany and how they'd fought on the same side while there, despite how they were both broken out of the same prison and remained on the run together, this was a man he hadn't known, or worked with, for nearly as long as the rest of the Avengers. It was a trust that still had to be built. It was why he hadn't let him touch his hair, and it was why he'd assumed that he'd know not to bother him when he had told him not to.
With a long, slow breath, he opened the door, finding himself met with the very person he'd assumed he would be met with. Judging by the slightly nervous look on the other man's face, it was clear he was very well aware that he was overstepping the boundaries set in place. Hiding a satisfied smirk, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
"What?" he asked, a little shortly.
The dark-haired man smiled broadly; he couldn't look any more anxious. "So, I know you said not to, y'know, bother you unless it was life or death– hey, you finished your hair, good job, man, it looks good on you. I still could have done it for ya if you wanted me to, I've done it plenty of–!"
He cleared his throat quietly, waiting for his companion to get to the point of why he'd knocked on the door to bother him in the first place instead of rambling on about things of little importance. It had better be a damn good reason.
Seeming to get the point, the other man immediately backpedaled. "Right, yeah. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I know you said not to bother you unless it was an emergency. And I was just sitting here, trying to find a game on TV, or something... we've got crappy service here, by the way, not many channel options... and, uh... well... you'll probably wanna come see this, man..."
Raising an eyebrow, the mohawked man slowly uncrossed his arms and straightened up from the doorway before following him into the motel's living room. Something in his tone had made him uneasy. He spared a quick glance at their third companion, the young teenage girl– one he had found himself taking responsibility for since the disaster in Sokovia had left her with no family at all– who had her long, dyed blonde hair tied behind her head in a loose ponytail as she lightly dozed on one of the two beds, before he turned his attention to what the ex-con had disturbed him for. It startled him to see his normally jovial new friend subdued and on the verge of grim, and he steeled himself as he turned his attention to the small television on the floor in front of him. It wasn't getting good reception, and the sound came in and out, but he could tell they were watching a live newscast. And through the static, he could just make out the headline.
Stark Presumed Dead; Search On For Missing Billionaire.
He didn't move, he hardly breathed, for a long moment, even though he could feel the eyes of his companion boring into him. He was too focused on trying to sort through the thoughts racing through his head.
What had happened...? Tony... missing? Presumed dead? What the hell...
Finally, he sighed, reaching for a small, disposable flip phone he kept in the back pocket of his jeans.
"I'll be right back. I've got a phone call to make."
If he had the chance when this was all over to look back at this moment in time, Tony realized that his reaction to seeing Captain Steve Rogers standing with him in his small prison and glowering down at him probably wasn't the appropriate one given the situation he currently found himself in.
He laughed.
A full, hearty laugh– one he had to admit hurt– shook Tony's bruised and beaten frame, but he found that he couldn't stop. Not even as Bakaar, Raza, Arsen, and now this new arrival simply watched him with no reaction. He knew he was probably going to get some sort of lashing for this, but still, the laugh continued to escape from deep within him. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that since they had someone cosplaying as Bucky that a Steve knock-off would be soon to follow, but actually seeing it had still come as a bit unexpected to him nonetheless.
But he also couldn't deny that for a moment– for just the briefest of moments– he'd believed that this obviously fake Captain America was the man he'd considered a friend, even though now he could see the man's facial structure was all wrong. He blamed the gas. He blamed the events after the fallout over the Accords, after seeing the video Zemo had shown them of his parents' murder, that still haunted him. And laughing, to him, was the best way to cover the unease at the fact they knew this would be a way to get under his skin that had decided to settle in his stomach.
"Are you quite finished?" the Steve rip-off demanded shortly.
When the billionaire showed no sign of stopping, Arsen grumbled under his breath before taking a couple steps forward. "I'll make him stop, Bao..."
However, he was stopped by Bao's gloved hand on his arm along with a brief shake of his head.
Finally, Tony's laughter ended with a short round of coughing, and he took a deep breath as he once again looked up at his captors. "Seriously?" he asked, clearing his raw throat. "You're kidding me, right? I mean... I get why you got Tweedledee and Tweedledum here." He paused, nodding at the two men who were supposed to be Bakaar and Raza. "And let me guess, you're gonna waterboard me or something at some point, yeah? Beat me senseless? Make me relive the nightmares from that cave? Please, I've been through this before, boys. But I've gotta admit, no one's been quite as original as you with the costume ideas for Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. At least you've got the complete set. You can't have one without the other. Though I'm saying it now. It's gonna take a lot more than a cheap Capsicle knock-off to make me crack. Not gonna happen."
Bao smirked in response, exchanging a glance with Arsen before turning back to their captive. "Defiance. I expected nothing less out of you, Mr. Stark," he muttered. "After all, your father had it, too."
The words caused Tony to stiffen. He met Bao's gaze steadily, and while his stomach tightened considerably, he made sure to keep his face impassive. He even managed a small smirk in return. "So, what, you're going to bring my dad into this whole thing now?" he wondered. "Real original. Not necessarily a secret that we had our differences. If you're gonna try to get to me by making up things about my dad or dragging his name through the mud, sorry, but you're gonna have to try harder."
Arsen grinned, and the billionaire couldn't deny that his unease grew at the look. "You need proof that your father was under the care of the good doctor before yourself? Very well, then, Mr. Stark. By the records in his system, Howard Stark suffered from a severe bout of claustrophobia from a wartime incident. He showed signs of emotional distance, even from his own family. Need I go on?"
Tony's smirk faltered as he struggled to not show his captors any of the emotions raging inside him, fighting and clawing to escape, while attempting to process all of the panicked thoughts racing through his mind.
True... it was true... all true... The emotional distance, most of the time, making his father seem just out of reach... He'd heard the story of the incident during the second World War, the plane crash, that had caused the older Stark's near crippling claustrophobia from the man himself...
But he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't let his captors know the truth.
Give them nothing.
Tony forced the confident look to broaden ever so slightly. "I think most people know how my father was," he told them, glad his voice was as steady as it was. "And a lot of people have claustrophobia, so that's just a smart guess–!"
"You drew him a picture when you were young, maybe five or six," Bao cut in, his light eyes gleaming. "A picture of him with Captain America and one Agent Peggy Carter. You said he was your hero, so you drew him with America's hero."
"Last I checked, a lot of kids look up to their dads at that age," the billionaire said stiffly. He remembered that drawing of Steve, his father, and his godmother very clearly. He'd been so proud of it. These details about his father, about him, were starting to chip away at him, bit by bit. But he refused to show it. He couldn't give these guys anything they could use against him. "Not abnormal. So if that's all you got..."
"He kept that drawing, you know." Bao's eyes gleamed when his captive's gaze noticeably faltered. It was the look of a predator who knew his prey was trapped with no way out. "In the top drawer of his desk, beneath where he kept some of his important Stark Industries reports."
This Tony had no quip for. This was a point he could not counter, could not brush off. Because it was true. A truth he hadn't known until after the night of his parents' deaths, after he had buried them.
He'd returned to his childhood home after the funeral with a girl he'd been planning to pass the time and distract himself with later on, though she'd remained behind in the car as he wandered through the empty, spacious rooms and hallways by himself since their butler Edwin Jarvis, Peggy, and his father's long-time friend and business partner Obadiah Stane had stayed behind at the cemetery with the other mourners while he just hadn't been able to bear to stay in the massive group any longer. He just needed some peace, some quiet, some time alone with his thoughts. He'd reluctantly entered Howard's office, a space that had at one time been almost considered sacred– a space he shouldn't enter– to his young mind, and even then, it'd been a place he'd felt as though he shouldn't have been. But he'd been there, because much of what that space consisted of would soon be his. Even though he wasn't the most thrilled at the idea of taking over Howard's legacy.
He hadn't been able to sit at the desk his father could often be found at, that had felt off-limits. But he had rifled through a couple of the drawers, just to get some sort of better idea of what sort of weight would now inevitably be dumped on his shoulders. With how sudden the death of the titan had been, and how fresh the impact of it had been, the responsibilities of running Stark Industries had seemed daunting, overwhelming, at the very least. It had been something he hadn't even been able to bring himself to think about, not at that point. At that moment in time, he'd wanted no part of any of it.
And while he'd been rifling through the drawers in order to see what his life would become, he'd been stopped short when he'd come across the very drawing his fake Bucky captor had described, right in the spot the fake Steve had said Howard had kept it.
He'd immediately left the office. He'd immediately left the house. He'd immediately left the burden of Stark Industries behind him.
There was only one way his captors could know about that drawing.
Almost acting on its own accord, Tony's body lurched forward, straight for the Bucky and Steve look-alikes, but his arms were caught from behind by the fake Bakaar and Raza, who wrenched him backward roughly. He clenched his teeth, refusing to vocalize the pain, as he met Arsen's confident gaze.
"What... what did you do to him?" he hissed.
Arsen chuckled while Bao smirked. "You know how it goes, Mr. Stark," he replied. "Doctors are bound by physician-patient privilege."
However, Tony was not in the mood for the other man's flippant remarks. He spit directly in Arsen's paler face.
A brief moment passed before the dark-haired man kneed the billionaire forcefully in the stomach, robbing him of breath, before his fist landed solidly with his jaw. Bakaar and Raza released their captive, causing Tony to slump to the floor with his arms wrapped around his midsection, coughing forcefully as air struggled to make its way back into his lungs. Arsen then reached forward, his metallic fingers wrapping in Tony's hair before jerking his head up roughly, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"Your father lasted for a respectable time before the doctor was able to make the progress he wanted to with him," the fake Winter Soldier murmured, smirking when Tony's pained hazel eyes finally managed to meet his own. "The doctor will come to visit you soon. And then, Mr. Stark, we shall see how long you will last."
Arsen then shoved his captive's head back down to the ground before he allowed Bao to pull him back, and all four men left the small, basement room, leaving Tony gasping for breath on the hard floor.
By the time lunch rolled around, Peter was thoroughly miserable. Everything was still too bright, too loud, to his senses that seemed to be dialed to even beyond eleven, especially in the bustling cafeteria. Even worse, the conversation he'd had with Happy, which hadn't gone the way he'd wanted at all, was still running through his mind. His fist clenched, though no matter how many times he went over it, the outcome remained the same.
"Happy... it... it wasn't the guy with wings who attacked us... It was the guy... the guy with the metal arm... He... he's the one who hurt Mr. Stark!"
"The man with the... You mean Barnes? The Winter Soldier? That guy with the metal arm?" The disbelief in Happy's tone was clear.
"I... I don't know," Peter muttered. "I saw him in Germany... He was helping Captain America. But... but why? Who is he to Mr. Stark...?"
The head of security let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "That's not a matter you need to concern yourself with right now, kid," he said. Though his voice was calmer, there was still an undeniable fear in it. In unnerved him.
"Why?" Peter pressed. "Did... did something happen...?"
"Kid, I said it's nothing you need to concern yourself with right now." The head of security's voice was sharper than he expected, and the teen recoiled a bit. But then, he sighed again. "Look, I know you're just worried about Tony, as we all are, but–!"
"Happy, please." Peter's confidence was starting to come back. "Look... I fought him briefly in Germany. He didn't hurt me, even when he had the chance to. I know I saw him up on that rooftop, but he seemed... I don't know, different somehow... It's hard to think that it was the same person. But who is this guy... Barnes? Winter Soldier? Tony seemed... afraid of him. Is he a friend of Capta–!"
"Peter!" The intensity in Happy's voice caused the web-slinger to stop short. "Listen to me. I know you just want to help with this. But look, if this is who you're describing, you're gonna have to sit this one out, kid."
"What?!" The head of security's words were like a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Happy, no! You don't understand, I have to help find Mr. Stark. You can't make me sit this one out when he needs me!"
"I can, and I will." There was no emotion in Happy's voice now, nothing for him to gauge. "Look, kid, I'm not doubting what you can do, but this is a bit out of your league. If this is the person you're saying it is, let us handle it. We've got Rhodey, we'll call in Vision..."
"But, Happy... Happy, I can help, I–!"
"I said no, kid." Happy let out another long breath. He sounded stressed, almost flustered. "Trust me. Tony wouldn't want you getting anywhere near this guy. He isn't something to take lightly. Just... just take a step back for a minute, okay? Let us figure out what we're dealing with here. Rhodey and I are about to follow your Davis lead, too, to see if we can find out anymore about your guy with wings. All right? Just take a step back. Now, you get back to class, and I'll give Rhodey a call about this."
"But, Happy..."
But the head of security had already ended the call.
Peter took a deep breath, simply staring at the ham and cheese sandwich and chips he'd brought to school with him. He'd stayed out of his math class that morning for just long enough to give the impression that he'd actually gone to speak with the counselor– there was no way he actually could since he didn't need to, and plus he'd never hear the end of it– and instead spent that time stewing over Happy's words and making plans of how to move forward from there.
Why did Happy, and even Tony, continue to treat him like a kid? Like he wasn't a valuable member of this team? He'd done plenty with helping the little guy, and he knew he was ready for more, especially since someone he looked up to and cared about was in danger when he could have helped him in some way. He could help now with what he was able to do, he knew he could. Especially now that he had a second chance with his suit. He knew he could help with the search for the billionaire, even if it was this Barnes guy who was responsible. He knew he could. He'd been there, after all. Who better to help figure out what happened to Tony than him?
The teen knew he'd just have to show them what he could do. So they'd take him more seriously as part of this team. That he could be of real use in finding the missing billionaire.
And to do that, he'd start with tracking down the guy with wings. He almost had him before, on the ferry before the FBI showed up, after all, and Karen had his face in her system. Even if he didn't have a criminal record, like she'd said, he had to exist in some system somewhere, right? Something work related, maybe? Perhaps through the state? Something...
And while he was doing that, he'd still try to help find Tony, in his own way. Happy had told him that he could come to the Tower whenever he needed or wanted to, and he was certainly going to take advantage of that. Make sure he was in on the conversations on how the search for his mentor was going. And he was going to do some research of his own on this Winter Soldier.
Though even worse, he was tired of hearing all of his classmates discuss whether Spider-Man, who had recently been a hero for rescuing the decathlon team from certain death in Washington, D.C., was a good or bad guy in the wake of all the news reports about what had possibly happened to Tony Stark.
Deciding that the cafeteria was just too loud, too distracting, the web-slinger quickly picked up his things and stuffed them in his backpack before heading quickly through the crowd toward the door. He passed by Ned and Michelle Jones, a girl who really seemed to have no friends but hung around the two of them quite a bit and was also part of the decathlon team, without as much as a second glance, despite his best friend's protests of, "Peter! We were supposed to talk about... things! Building the Death Star! Remember?"
Peter kept going. He really didn't feel like recounting what had happened on that rooftop, despite promising Ned he would, and so he pushed open the door of the cafeteria and stepped out without a word. He took a deep breath of relief and closed his eyes, as the hallway was already an improvement from how loud and bright the cafeteria had been.
Though now that he was out, his urge to just leave the school altogether was even greater. What was he even doing here, anyway? Tony was in trouble. Who knew what was happening to him, or where he was? Despite how much trouble he'd get in, despite how May or Happy or Pepper or anyone else would likely kill him, he knew he'd be doing much more good outside of these walls. He had his suit on him. He'd just need to find the perfect opening, and...
"Parker!"
Startled, the fifteen-year-old's eyes snapped open as his head whipped to the right, and he found himself face to face with Principal Morita. Beside the dark-haired man was an older man with some light gray hair left on his balding head who was leaning heavily on a cane for support. It was a man he didn't recognize.
But his sense was trying to alert him of something...
"What are you doing, Peter?" Morita asked. There wasn't any judgment in his tone, rather curiosity.
Peter tore his gaze away from the new man to his principal. "I was, uh..." He paused, thinking quickly. "I, um, I have a bit of a headache, and it was just really loud in there... Plus I was thinking of getting a little more research done in the library... for, for a project due at the end of the week..."
Morita arched an eyebrow, though he didn't push any further. The older man beside him regarded Peter curiously at hearing his name. "Well, straight there, then," the former finally said. "Go on, now."
"Thanks... thanks, Mr. Morita." Peter offered him a small smile before meeting the light gaze of the older man beside him again. It unsettled him slightly to see that those eyes were boring right back into him, and he quickly turned and made his way down the hall that would bring him to the library. He cursed his luck. It wasn't as good as being able to get out of the school, but at least he could look more into who this Barnes guy was in the meantime.
When he rounded the corner, he paused when he saw a tall, black-haired girl was finishing straightening out a brightly colored poster for the homecoming dance coming up that weekend. His throat went dry, and his stomach did a little flip. The girl took a couple steps back to get a better look at her work before she turned in his direction when she spotted him out of the corner of her eye.
"Oh, hey, Peter."
"H-hey..." He paused, clearing his throat. "Hey, Liz."
Liz Allan, the senior girl he'd pretty much always had a crush on, smiled before she turned back to the poster she'd just hung up on the wall. "What do you think? Is it straight?" she wondered.
"Uh..." Peter took a few steps closer to get a better look for himself. "Yeah, I think it looks nice, Liz. Really great." He then turned to her. "I thought you had a class now...?"
"I do, but I've gotta take care of this homecoming stuff," Liz told him. "I'm looking forward to when it's all over, trust me. It's a lot of work."
"Y-yeah, I bet..."
Liz's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay, Peter?" she asked, looking him over curiously. "You've just seemed... off lately."
Peter blinked a couple times as his thoughts seemed to stumble over each other. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he told her. "Really. Just, uh, under a lot of stress..."
Her features softened. "It's what happened to Tony Stark, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "I know you were interning for him... You must have gotten to know him pretty well. Must be hard to hear these news reports about that awful incident..."
The web-slinger couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to. "Yeah, I have gotten to know him pretty well," he admitted. "And honestly, I'm freaked out about what could have possibly happened to him. But despite what the news is saying, it wasn't Spider-Man..."
His sentence trailed off when Liz smiled and nodded. "I know."
Peter stared at her for a moment. "You... you do?" It was then he remembered that she had some sort of crush on Spider-Man, and while he'd hoped that she'd be one of the people who wouldn't just listen to the reports, hearing it from her was another thing altogether. Oh, how he wished he could tell her the truth... "You... you do...?"
Liz nodded again. "After he saved us from that elevator in the Washington Monument, I don't see why he'd attack a person who's on the same side he is," she said.
Despite how happy her words made him, the web-slinger's gaze faltered. "You know, I was really worried about you guys up there," he replied. "I'm really glad Spider-Man got there in time." He paused. "And, you know, I'm really sorry about missing the decathlon, I..."
"It's all right." Seeing the confusion on Peter's face, Liz continued. "Before last week, the decathlon was... everything. It was our future. Nothing more important than that." She smiled slightly. "But then, I almost died in that elevator. And... everything changed. Suddenly that decathlon, or winning it, wasn't so important anymore. You know?"
A flicker of memory of the explosion on top of that building flashed through his mind before his thoughts wandered to Pepper and how sad and full of regret she was that she hadn't let Tony know exactly how she felt before this disaster happened. Oh, yes, he knew exactly what Liz was talking about when she said that near-death experiences changed one's perspective. He knew that all too well, especially since he knew that what was coming up for him, what he was about to get involved in, was the most dangerous thing he'd ever done as the web-slinger.
He'd hesitated too long. It was now or never.
"Liz... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Peter muttered. "I, uh... I..."
"Like me. Yeah, I know that, too."
Peter quickly looked up to meet her gaze, startled. Was he really that obvious? "You... knew that...?"
Liz chuckled. "You're really bad at keeping secrets," she told him.
Despite himself, Peter gave her a small smile. She had no idea how good at it he actually was. Though that really didn't mean anything, considering he'd been considering spilling his biggest secret to her only a couple seconds before. "Yeah, well... maybe some of them I am." When she smiled in return, he suddenly felt emboldened. After all, it wasn't like she was making fun of or rejecting him for liking her, despite the fact that she was a senior while he was just a sophomore. "So, I'm probably going to be in detention for, like, the rest of my life for skipping the decathlon among other things, and I've got a lot going on with that internship still, but, uh... maybe you and I could, like, I don't know... hang out sometime?"
"I don't have a date for homecoming yet," Liz informed him, gesturing to the decorations she'd been working on before he'd arrived. "I've been so busy preparing for it that I haven't really gotten to that part yet, so..."
Peter looked at her for a moment, trying to make sure he was understanding her correctly. "M-me...?" he wondered, his voice cracking slightly. "You'd... you'd want to go... with me...?"
Liz's smile broadened. "As I've told you before, you're, like, the smartest guy I've ever met," she said. "And you seem like you could use a good time. Get your mind off things..."
The web-slinger couldn't believe it. Hadn't he always wanted something like this to happen ever since he started crushing on her? And now she was basically telling him that she'd go to the homecoming dance with him.
But as much as he wanted to jump at this chance and say yes, there was a big part of him that was hesitating. I have to find Mr. Stark.
"That... that sounds great," he finally said. "But, I, uh, I..." When Liz's cheerful smile faltered, he paused. There was a sense in the back of his mind that this was the right way to go, though he wasn't quite sure why. Other than he really wanted to go to this dance with Liz. If he listened hard enough, he could even almost hear Tony's voice echoing in his ears, saying, "Go for it, kid! Don't do anything that I wouldn't do. Or would do."
A small smile appeared on Peter's face. "You know what? Yeah, that sounds great," he told her. "Let's do it."
Liz's smile returned. "Great! See you Friday, Peter."
"See you Friday," Peter agreed before he continued on his way toward the library. His smile broadened as he went as he allowed the excitement to settle in. He was actually going to homecoming with Liz Allan. It was almost too good to be true. And up until then, he'd work as hard as he could on any leads on the guy with wings and on what could have happened to Tony, and he'd work just as hard after the dance was over if nothing turned up by then.
But then, he felt a slight pull, a feeling like he was being watched, in the back of his mind, and the web-slinger stopped, quickly turning to look after his shoulder. But it was only Liz, who was busy working on more of the homecoming dance decorations. The opposite end of the hall was empty.
Though he was sure he had felt something. Almost a warning. A little uneasy, Peter continued on his way, trying to shrug the feeling off.
After all, he had a date.
Author's Note: So, there we have it! Tony's captivity may be quite a bit deeper than he ever imagined... And Peter's still going to homecoming with Liz. But now with this "Bucky" surfacing, and with a couple more people seemingly getting pulled into the mix, how will the hunt for Tony go? We'll find out! Oh! Howard Stark's claustrophobia came from an episode in season one of Agent Carter. Also, a million thank yous to CoffeeRanger for looking over a couple of these sections for me, as well as for planning out some of the ideas here with me! As always, feedback is appreciated. I'll see you guys next time! :-)