Tony was enjoying time back home. He might have been under constant monitoring still- the threat of an assasination attempt was still evident. As much as he protested, Tony was more than happy to stay in his lab and miss meetings. Harley joined him some days, silent and tinkering, his shoulders hunched.
Every now and then, the boy would look towards the mechanic and Tony would burst into a story, just to fill the silence. There was a strange absence of chatter and theorising that Tony wasn't sure he'd ever get used to. They'd looked into regeneration, and though Bruce had begun to research cell regeneration to help grow back Bucky's arm, it was unclear whether it was feasible for Harley. Tony had joked about getting him dentures or gold teeth to replace the ones that had been taken from him. Nat had explained that it'd been a measure to prevent identification.
Harley had given a small laugh, muffled and undefined with speech. Having Harley back, as shattered as he was, didn't mean everything was okay. He was still a teenager, the same age as their missing assassin- the real Peter Parker. He struggled to rebuild his identity after being told the same things for months without anything else but instincts to counteract it. It was as if all he had was the pieces of a shattered mirror, and he was putting the jagged edges together, one by one until he could finally see who was staring back at him in the reflection.
Harley had asked Tony if his friends from school could visit. Natasha had done a background check on the two he mentioned- Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones. He'd offhandedly mentioned another named Arthur Quarry, whom Nat had concluded to be a fake identity. From the description and rough sketch they were able to get from Harley, it was discerned that 'Arthur' was the real Peter Parker.
It was a dead end. The address on his school file was a red herring- Tony was concerned that the school hadn't done much investigating into it. There were no jobs or internships on record, though he did ask Clint to check around for anyone matching Peter's description. The archer had come back with empty hands, telling him that he must have used a pseudonym and a disguise so as to not be detected.
Nat had started Harley on a training regimen that day, declaring that he was going to have to learn to defend himself in and out of the suit that Tony was making for emergencies. Natasha did not pull her punches either, especially after a week of training. Harley had given Tony a look as he was escorted down to the Med-bay. The man knew that his friends were coming.
"Watch yourself, young man." Tony had said, looking ahead as they rode the elevator down. "You may not be able to speak, but I know sarcasm when I see it. Sarcasm is the eighth sin. It's worse than the first seven combined. It will rot your mouth way faster than all the sugary junk you cook up."
As much as Harley protested, he was sat down in a hospital bed, holding an ice pack to his face. He was instructed that FRIDAY would warn the nearest Avenger if he left the gurney, so he sat there to wait for his friends, reviewing his explanation for his disappearance and identity in his head.
"Geez," MJ had declared when she saw Harley in his bruised glory from training with Nat. "I used to think blood was sexy, but you, Parker, have ruined it for me."
"My name's not Parker." Harley tried to say, sounding like he had marbles in his mouth as he tried not to blush. He pensively looked up to FRIDAY for assistance. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. The A.I. remained silent, and he frowned.
"Peter, what are you talking about?" Harley sighed, resting his head in his free hand and mumbled to himself, unaware that he could be heard and understood.
"My life has got to be a joke."
"Not necessarily," MJ could understand him, apparently. "Jokes are funny." She sat down next to him on the bed, facing him at an angle. Ned went to his other side and cautiously pulled his hand away from his eye with a hiss.
"FRIDAY?" Harley asked in a garbled voice. The Artificial Intelligence decided to step in at last with her cool Irish lilt filling the room. Harley gave a rueful look at the ceiling, wondering if he should have planned this better. He felt helpless, choosing to focus instead on the fake plant in the corner of the hospital room in Stark Tower.
"I can answer any questions you have, Ms. Jones and Mr. Leeds." MJ pursed her lips, giving Harley a bit of a side-eye. He looked like he hadn't had a good meal in days. True, he was on the willowy side, even from when they had first met. She'd noticed the physical signs as they'd gotten closer- the fatigue, depression, and aversion to food. Originally, she'd chalked it up to a good old eating disorder, but clearly something else was at work.
"Why are you at the Avengers tower?" Ned saved her from having to speak as she began to overanalyze. He was wearing new exercise clothes, nondescript and muted colours. They looked barely used, with the fabric having the stiff look of something that he had put on without washing- why waste space in the load? There were small habits that she had noticed at school, ones that she didn't think he even realised.
MJ realised that she had tuned out FRIDAY's answer, and both of the boys were looking to her for a question. She managed to unstick her lips, opening her dry mouth.
"What's your name?"
"His name is H-" Harley raised his free hand. MJ noticed a bit of startling anger in his eyes, mingling with some desperation. She got a sense of loss and vindication from him. It felt like a soldier coming home and finally reclaiming who they were before.
"My name," Harley said, no longer kowtowed to his inability to articulate, and perhaps finally speaking as himself for the first time in months. He took a deep breath, his mind suddenly filled with clear ideas and feelings and… memories… "My name is Harley Keener."