I know it's not Saturday yet, but the the wait to post this chapter has been hell for me and I'm using fanficisahobby's comment as an excuse for an extra update.

You have all been amazing with the response to this story so far. The feedback I got actually changed Story III. I can't explain too much without giving away the end of this story, but with what I'd written and what was planned I'd lost the feel of this world. It was all about action and events—which are important—but the family feel and bonds of the story were left behind a little. Thankfully, you people tipped me off to what I was losing, so I have gone back and started work on fixing it. We're weeks away from Story III still, but I'm really excited for you to see what I have coming for you as it's got some characters and scenes I'm really excited about and some changes for Peter I know some of you have been waiting for.Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhodey glowered and moved towards Peter.

Bucky turned Peter slowly by steering his shoulder and said, "Hey, look who's here, bud."

Rhodey braced himself for what he knew he would see, but he still felt the pang as Peter's blank eyes stared through him as if he wasn't there. Bucky's words were not reaching him—they never did.

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

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

Peter wandered aimlessly around the base, sometimes coming to a halt where he would stand or sit for hours at a time unless they moved him on. He seemed to like the windows, and he would stand by them day and night unless they interrupted him. He didn't speak or react to them at all. They were now all experts at reading his body language to know when he needed the bathroom or was tired. If he started to squirm or move restlessly, they took him to the bathroom and gave him as much privacy as they could manage for a person that needed almost total care. When his blinks slowed, they laid him down to sleep.

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

"Has he been to the bathroom?" he asked.

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

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

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

It was these sighs and fumbling fingers that made Rhodey believe he was peripherally aware of them; they were reactions to what they were making him do. When he was settled to be attached to his TPN bag for hours at a time, he grumbled incoherently as if he was annoyed that he was back to sitting and being followed around again. They tried to do as much of his feeding at night while he slept, but the sheer amount of nutrition he needed to gain back the weight he'd lost meant he needed it in the daytime, too.

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

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

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

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

"Have you tried today, Wanda?" Rhodey asked.

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

"Will you?"

She nodded, but her face was grim.

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

"Please," he said when she failed to move.

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

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

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

She steered Peter's face back to the side, patted his chest, and said, "All done. Watch this."

She started the game again and placed the tablet in Peter's line of sight.

"I'm sorry," she said into the expectant silence of the room. "There's still nothing there."

"You can't see him at all?" Rhodey asked, though he'd already asked the question many times before, they all had.

"No." She bit her lip. "It's just lights—the Stones' colors. He's hidden behind them."

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

"We don't," Steve agreed.

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

"You want coffee, Rhodey?" Bucky asked.

"Please," he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure about that, Rhodey?" Steve asked.

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

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

He finished his coffee, then nodded swiftly and said, "Come on, Pete, let's clean you up."

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

"Okay, kid, you ready?" he asked.

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

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

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

"Easy!" Rhodey said quickly. "You're okay."

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

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

This was a bad—

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

"What the hell's going on?" he asked. "Peter?"

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

"Rhodey!" Steve said with a gasp from the bathroom.

Barnes cursed.

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

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

"Where's Peter?" Barnes asked, shutting off the water.

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

His eyes roved the room, and he saw Peter, naked and curled in a ball in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his hands tangled in his hair, his head bowed. He wasn't making a sound, but he was shaking hard enough to be described as a seizure.

"Pete," he said carefully. "It's okay. I'm here."

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

"Okay," he said soothingly. "You're okay."

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

"Steve, how is he?" he called over his shoulder.

"He's okay," Barnes said, coming up behind him. "Bruce is coming to check him out. How's Peter?"

"See for yourself," Tony said, waving a hand at his distressed son. "What was he thinking?"

"Rhodes was worried about his hair," Barnes said. "I guess he thought he'd be able to clean him up without too much of a problem. Obviously, that didn't work out."

"Obviously," Tony growled.

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

"Pete…" Rhodey said vaguely.

"He's fine," Steve said. "Tony's with him."

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

"Pete," Rhodey said again. "Where's…" His words became garbled and weak.

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

"Tony… made braces…" Rhodey replied weakly

Tony's heart sank, and he called, "Bruce, is he going to be okay?"

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

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

"He's going to be okay, too."

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

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

"Let's get you warmed up, yeah?" Tony asked, getting to his feet and easing Peter up by the elbows. "Up you come."

"Can I help?" Barnes asked behind them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Tony said. "That was a good idea." He stroked Peter's cheek. "That feel good, kid?"

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

"No problem," Barnes said, sounding pleased.

Tony realized this was the first time the two of them had been alone together, with Peter, since the hospital bedside vigil after Peter's attack in Wakanda. The difference in the feel of the room since then was vast. Tony had been so angry then, worried about Peter and in no mood to talk to Barnes, but he didn't feel that now. He was grudgingly grateful that Barnes had thought to bring Peter something to touch like this, something to comfort maybe.

"You need anything?" Barnes asked. "Coffee?"

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

"Black no sugar," Barnes said, then, in response to Tony's look of surprise, he explained, "I pay attention. I'll be right back."

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

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

"Do that feel good, too, Pete?" he asked. "Can you feel me?"

When there was no response, he sighed and nodded.

"No need to talk until you're ready, kid. You take as long as you need."

He got to his feet and stretched. He was still in his sweats and ratty t-shirt he'd slept in, but he didn't care enough to leave Peter to go clean himself up and get dressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tony huffed a reluctant laugh. "I will. Thank you."

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

"Barnes," Tony called after him.

Barnes stopped at the door and looked back. "Yeah."

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

Barnes nodded. "Of course." He smiled slightly and then carried on out of the room.

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

After all, he had no choice but to wait.

So… Thought? Fun fact: Peter was not supposed to be catatonic in this story. I had started a different Civil War AU with a catatonic Peter — which may still be finished — but when I sat down to write, this was how Peter presented himself. I am not one of those writers than can decide what happens. I am very much led by the characters and what they show me.

Another example is the Bucky & Tony relationship and the Bucky & Peter which will follow. None of it was planned. It just happened. I write long and complex outlines for stories and inevitably go off course by Step Four. If you're not happy with the direction, you can blame Peter, which will be hard as he's a precious little bean who deserves only love ;-)

The influence of the amazing foolscapper comes into play in this chapter. She showed me how beautifully catatonia can be portrayed, and that bled into this story a lot. The idea of catatonia was Peter's—as I said—but any quality you see in the portrayal comes from her wonderful story Exploding Head Syndrome, which I cannot recommend highly enough.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx