Thank you so much Prongs100 for pre-reading.

Thank you so much Prongs100 for pre-reading.

It's Saturday! I've been waiting for this moment all week. Self-control is not something that comes easily to me. I wanted to get this chapter up but I needed to be patient or there might be a period between the end of this story and the beginning of Part II in which I have no updates for you as I've not finished writing. I'm writing Part III out of order as it's a varied storyline with lots of different characters. I actually have 19 scenes written so far, but I've got at least another 18 to write, and they're not a cohesive plot yet.

Anyway... I have been dying to post this all week as I am eager to get it out to you all and reach C3 in which the main plot is clear. You were all so amazing with the response to Chapter One. I loved hearing from you all and was thrilled with the number of hits the chapter got—over 500 and reviews. If you do enjoy the chapter, please do review. It means more to me than I can say to hear people are enjoying what I am putting my heart and soul into, and it makes me keep going on the days writing it tough.

Chapter Two

Bucky prodded at the bowl of macaroni cheese Sam had dished up for him, his thoughts drifting and painful. Everything that had happened since Stark's AI had announced his house was under attack was weighing heavily on his shoulders. The knowledge he alone had about what had happened to Peter there, what it meant, was weighing on him even more, and he knew he was going to have to share it soon. He didn't want to, though. He didn't know Stark well, he'd never had a chance to because of his past unforgivable crimes against his parents, but he knew how much he loved that kid, and he was going to have to crush him with the truth.

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

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

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

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

"You going to eat that?" Sam asked.

Bucky blinked up at him, "Huh?"

Swam sighed and pushed away his bowl. "Yeah, me neither."

Bucky dropped his fork into the bowl and raked a hand over his face. "I've got to do something," he said.

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

"I know, but that's not what I meant," Bucky said, and then forced the admission from himself. "I think Peter's been programmed like I was—the Winter Solider thing."

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

Bucky winced. "The man that was there with Peter was the man that took the programming from me, so he knows how it works, and I heard words that sounded like triggers. Before I killed him, he said Peter belongs to Ross now."

Sam cursed under his breath. "God, the kid…"

Bucky nodded. "Exactly."

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

Bucky bit his lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tony, we need to talk to you," Sam said. "Bucky's got something you need to hear."

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

"What?" Stark asked wearily.

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

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

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

"Yes. I think he's been programmed like I was when I was The Winter Soldier."

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

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

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

"Tone…" Rhodes said, his voice wrecked.

"No!" Stark snapped. "They can't have because…"

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

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

Rhodes stared at him, his jaw tight and eyes hard. "How would we know?" he asked.

"He'd be different, right, Bucky?" Bruce said. "When he wakes up, we'd be able to tell?"

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

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

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

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

"They're more than magic words, Tony," Sam said. "It's deeply rooted psychological programming."

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

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

Stark glowered at him. "How? You want to lock him down? Because there is no way in hell I'm letting anyone do that to my kid."

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

"He's still got the Stones," Sam pointed out. "If he uses them…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky glanced at Peter's almost totally motionless form, just shallow rises and falls of his chest moving him, once more and then turned and walked out and back along the hall.

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

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

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

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

He truly believed it, too. Peter had much more strength than he ever had, and his moral code was obviously much stronger. The lives Bucky took as The Winter Soldier weren't the first; he'd fought in a war before Hydra got hold of him. Peter was pure.

He'd be fine.

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

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

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

She shrugged off her jacket, draped it on a chair, and then approached the bed. Bruce handed her the stethoscope, and she inserted it into her ears and lifted Peter's t-shirt. She hissed between her teeth as she saw his ravaged chest and stomach and then bent close and listened to his heart. She took off the stethoscope and wrapped it around her neck and then lifted Peter's arm and touched a finger one of the bulging veins, watched as it collapsed under her touch and then reappeared when she lifted her finger. She checked blood flow by pinching his fingertips and watching it pink up again.

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

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

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

"He's in pain?" Tony asked, moving back to the bed and placing a hand on Peter's chest in both comfort and claim.

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

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

"Imagine that multiplied by weeks. The damage that must have been done to his organs from the starvation is huge." She narrowed her eyes. "That damage will be painful. It's a miracle he's even alive."

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

Helen nodded. "Get it. I'll prep."

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

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

"It's as big as we can risk with the potential liver damage," Bruce replied.

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

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

"I'm not leaving," Tony said firmly.

"Tony…" Bruce started.

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

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

Tony frowned. "I'm sorry, what?"

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

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

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

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

"I will," Bruce said, the words coming as a vow.

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

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

He felt like he'd left part of himself in the room, and it tugged at him, drawing him back. It was only the fact that he knew Helen would refuse to help Peter if he went back that stopped him.

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

"He's going to be okay, Tony," Sam said. "You know how good Helen is."

Tony nodded. It wasn't Peter's physical health he was worried about for a moment; it was his mind. He couldn't help it with Barnes watching him with those knowing and oddly sad eyes. He took a breath, stopped, and forced himself to ask the question that had been playing on him since Barnes told them what he believed had been done to Peter—what Tony believed had happened, too.

"After Steve broke through to you, when you remembered who you were, how bad was it?"

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

Tony nodded stiffly. "I do. How hard was it to keep the programming at bay?"

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

Tony nodded. "I believe you."

He couldn't say trust because he didn't. Trust was never something he was going to be able to share with Barnes, not after everything, but he did believe he wouldn't do that to Peter. He seemed to care about him, and, as little as Tony wanted to admit it to himself, he wasn't the monster he once was anymore. Barnes wasn't the man that had killed his parents: strangled his mother and beaten his father. That was The Winter Soldier. Tony wouldn't ever be able to forgive him for that, but he could rely on him to protect his son from the words that would hurt him.

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

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

Peter's eyes were open.

"Pete!" he gasped. "Oh, god, kid, I'm here."

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

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

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

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

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

Feeling only slightly reassured, Tony stroked Peter's hollow cheek and said, "Okay, kid, take your time. I'm here. We're all here. You're safe now, understand?" He stared into Peter's eyes, hoping for a reaction and receiving none. "That's okay. Whenever you're ready." He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead, his lips feeling the bone that barely seemed to have skin between it and Tony. "I'm here."

"Shall I get Rhodes?" Barnes asked.

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

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

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

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

So… What do you think? Like I said, this is a recovery story, so we're not getting magic fixes. I tried to make it as realistic as possible with what Peter went through and how I believe he would react.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx