Thank you all for the support you're showing the story.

Story III is going great. I've been working on it a while but I was writing out of order with separate scenes with various events — Story III is a busy story with lots of characters. Now I am piecing it together into actual chapters I'm realizing I'm further ahead than I thought. Hopefully I will soon be able to start posting twice-weekly again.

Chapter Four

"Okay, we're going through," Steve warned. "Brace yourself."

Rhodey planted his hands on his knees, and Steve drove the car into the rippling air that led them to the base. There was the disconcerting sensation of turbulence, and then they were through the other side, out of the lake and on the parking lot.

Steve pulled them to a stop and climbed out. Rhodey stayed in his seat, staring down at his lap, until Steve had rounded the car and opened his door.

"Come on," he said. "You can't stay in there forever. Don't you want to see Queens?"

Rhodey turned to him, and his brown eyes were pained. "I screwed up, Steve. I upset Pete."

"You did," Steve agreed. "But you didn't do it on purpose. Sure, I thought it was a bad idea, but I didn't know it would be that bad; no one did. Now you've got to face him, see he's okay."

"If he is okay," Rhodey said pointedly, guilt heavy in his face.

"You know he is," Steve reminded him. "Bruce said he was fine. He spent the morning with Tony getting the rest of his feed and resting. He's probably having a wander now. Come on." When Rhodey failed to move, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You're War Machine—suit up and face it."

Rhodey huffed a laugh. "Being War Machine is easier. Thanos was easier than this." He turned in his seat, climbed out, movements careful as he maneuvered in the braces, and then followed Steve to the door.

Steve took the lead inside and through into the living area where he stopped as he took in the scene.

Peter was sitting on the couch, the tablet held in front of him by Tony and the game's colored light dancing over his face as his eyes stared through them. Tony was beside him, close enough that their knees touched. Wanda was sitting on the back of the couch behind Peter. Her deft fingers were moving through Peter's hair, and there was a comb beside her and a bottle of some kind of gel that she was massaging into the lengths of his locks. Peter's hair was markedly different; the matted tangles were almost completely smoothed and damp with what he supposed was the gel.

"Okay, Peter," Wanda said. "A little more."

She squeezed some of the gel onto her hands and then began to massage it into his scalp. Peter's eyes closed, and Steve thought, or perhaps only hoped, that Peter's lips twitched with a smile.

"Wow," he said.

Wanda looked over her shoulder at him and grinned. "It's salon day."

"I can see," Steve said.

There was a good atmosphere in the room, with Bucky, Sam, and Bruce sitting on the other couch, their eyes all on Peter and Wanda, and smiles on their faces.

Steve stepped further into the room, and Rhodey came in behind him. Steve pointed to the seat beside Bucky and said, "Remember what the doctor said: sit, rest, but don't sleep."

Rhodey nodded, moved to the couch, and sat down, his eyes moving between Peter and Tony with a wary look.

Steve perched on the side of the couch beside Tony, shifting a little as he felt the tension in the room develop. Peter's hands twitched in his lap and began to squeeze his legs hard.

"No, Pete," Tony said gently. "You'll hurt yourself."

He unclenched Peter's hands and held them in his own. Peter's grip tightened enough that the tips of Tony's fingers turned white, but Tony didn't seem to mind. He just looked at Peter with the love that always seemed to shine in his eyes when he was with the kid now.

"How are you feeling, Rhodey?" Bruce asked solicitously.

Rhodey ran a hand over his forehead and said, "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

Steve sighed. "He's got a concussion, three stitches in the back of his scalp, and we've got to monitor him for twenty-four hours."

Rhodey shot him a scowl and then looked at Tony and licked his lips. "Tone… I'm sorry."

Tony looked from Peter to him. "You're okay?"

"I am," Rhodey assured him. "Nothing to worry about on the scans."

Tony nodded and said, "Good. Then you're apologizing to the wrong person."

Rhodey winced and fixed his eyes on Peter. "Pete, I'm sorry. I messed up."

Peter gave no reaction other than to release Tony's hand. Tony flexed his fingers as the blood rushed through them again, and then placed them on his lap.

"What happened?" Bruce asked. "Obviously, you had him in the shower, but how did you end up unconscious?"

The corners of Rhodey's mouth turned down. "It was water. He was fine until it touched his head, and then he just…" He flinched. "He freaked out and threw me back. What happened to him after?"

Tony didn't seem to be hearing him. There was a distant look in his eyes, and his teeth were gritted.

"He was scared," Steve said, remembering the glimpse of Peter curled in the corner he'd got before rushing to Rhodey's aid.

"Water," Tony said, his voice a growl. "It was water!"

Bruce frowned. "Well, we know he feels sensation, so maybe it startled him."

Tony shook his head jerkily and turned to Peter, his finger stroking from Peter's forehead, under his eyes, across his lips, which twitched, and down to his collarbone. "They didn't just starve him."

"No," Sam said carefully. "But we know that. They programmed him."

Tony shook his head again, his eyes darkening as they moved from Peter to his lap, and he spoke between his teeth. "They wanted something from him, the way The Ten Rings wanted something from me." He drew a deep and shaky breath. "Back in Afghanistan, when they were trying to get me to build the Jericho for them, they tried to persuade me with water torture." He wiped a hand over his mouth and pressed it to his temples. "They'd hold my head in the water until I thought I was going to drown, bringing me up at the very last minute to get a gulp of air, and then do it again."

Rhodey paled, and the room seemed to be filled with an electric charge. Wanda's hands stilled on Peter's hair.

"You never told me," Rhodey said quietly.

"Why would I tell anyone?" Tony asked, sounding genuinely bewildered. "It wasn't exactly one of my greatest hits. But after…" he looked back to Peter, his wan face twisting with pain, "it took me a while to handle the shower, too. They must have…" He turned Peter's face and cupped it in his hands, which trembled. "Did they do that to you, Pete?"

There was a moment in which Tony stared desperately into Peter's eyes, seeming to be begging for a reaction. His thumbs stroked Peter's cheeks, then he released him and pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes as if driving back tears.

"No more showers," Bucky stated. "We've got to be very careful."

"Should I stop…" Wanda started, hands lifting from Peter's scalp.

"No," Sam said. "That doesn't seem too much for him. I think he might even like it."

Wanda placed her fingers in Peter's now untangled hair, and she began to massage his scalp again. Steve thought Peter's blank eyes seemed to soften at the touch.

"Buck," Steve said cautiously. "Did they do that to you, too?"

Bucky didn't answer, his eyes on Peter, whose fingers were moving on his lap. He stood up and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over Peter and Tony's laps then lifted Peter's hands so that they were resting on it. At once, Peter's restless movements became closer to stroking motions.

Tony gave Bucky a small smile and murmured his thanks, taking Steve entirely off guard. He'd thought, or perhaps just hoped, that there was a slight shift in the tension between his two friends, but this was more than he'd seen so far.

"No," Bucky said finally, falling back into his seat and running a hand over his head. "It was different for me, though. They needed to lock me down hard. I resisted from the very beginning. From the moment I woke up there, my arm gone and the pain unimaginable, I fought to get away. We don't think Peter fought them. It might have been something Thuri used for the programming. I don't know. There was no need for it."

"Or it was Ross," Rhodey said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "He just wanted to hurt him." He squeezed his eyes closed and said, "God, I'm sorry, Pete. I can't believe I…"

"You didn't know," Sam reminded him. "None of us did. We know now. We'll be even more careful with him—keep it to damp washcloths."

Rhodey nodded, his eyes fixed on Peter, whose eyes were drifting shut. For a moment, Steve thought, with a thrill in his stomach, that it was what Wanda was doing, connecting with and relaxing him, then his head tilted down, and his lips parted with a soft breath. He'd fallen asleep.

Tony looked at him a moment and then smiled. "You've got the magic touch, Wanda. He's out."

Wanda's hands dropped to her lap, and she said, "Good. His hair is done. It won't look great, but it won't be tangled anymore." She patted the long strands and said, "It needs a cut, though."

"Tell me about it," Tony said with a laugh. "I told him that all the time, little mop-head. He's not vain, but you mess his hair up, he does this little…" He wiggled his fingers over his head and made a face, lips pouted and brows scrunched. "His aunt did it to him all the time. He smirked. "So did I."

Steve smiled slightly. "I'll test that out when he's back with us."

He said it with certainty, no doubt in his tone, because that was what they all needed to hear. He wasn't wholly confident Peter would snap out of this, though, and that scared him. The idea of Peter spending even a month like this was awful, but there was a bigger issue none of them were talking about—Peter was now immortal. This could be his existence until the end of time, never connecting with another person again. Who would care for him when they were all gone? And what would happen if his programming was triggered again? None of them had mentioned it, but it was a risk if Ross got him again.

He gave his head a brisk shake and said, "Should we move him to his bed?"

Tony considered and then shook his head. "No, we can make him comfortable here. Helen is due in an hour anyway, so he'll have to get up again. We can hook him up to another bag while he's lying still, though."

"Good idea," Bruce said. "I'll get it."

He got to his feet and walked out of the room, and Tony shifted along the couch and then eased Peter down so that his head was resting on his lap. Wanda climbed off the couch and lifted Peter's feet so that he was stretched out and covered him with the blanket.

Tony placed one hand on Peter's back, and the other pushed his hair back and settled on his cheek.

Steve watched Tony, wondering if he was even aware of how different his interactions with Peter were now. Though it was always evident to them all how much he loved Peter, he hadn't been as tactile with him before. Now, though, it was as if he couldn't resist touching him, taking and giving comfort.

If—no when, it had to be when—Peter came back to them, Steve hoped it continued as he thought Peter was going to need it.

"You want to do what?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Place a nasal feeding tube," Helen said patiently. "His stomach has had time to recover, and he needs to get used to proper nutrition again. He cannot take it orally, so we will feed it directly into his stomach."

Tony looked at Peter, who was lying on the med bay cot. He was shirtless from Helen's examination, thin and pale, but with more meat on his bones than before. "No."

"Why not?" Helen asked.

"Because…" He cut a hand through the air. "Just no!"

Tony could feel Rhodey's confused eyes on him and knew he wanted answers, but he wasn't giving them up.

He knew what a feeding tube felt like, at least what it felt like when it was being ripped out of his stomach and up his throat. He wasn't letting Peter go through that. Which he might. What if his restless fingers tugged on it? They weren't watching him all the time. Tony and Rhodey took turns sleeping in Peter's room at night—though Rhodey was going to need a few nights off to recover from his concussion—but they slept, too. Just because Peter tolerated the central line, it didn't mean he'd be able to bear a tube going up his nose and down his throat.

"He needs this," Helen said.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "He's not having it. He's gaining weight on the TPN bags."

"Not enough," she said. "His body needs more. and his digestive system needs to begin working again."

"It's working. He uses the toilet," Rhodey said, brow furrowed.

"Yes," she said patiently. "But you and I both know it's not as it should be."

That was true. Peter's bathroom movements weren't regular at all, and Tony supposed they did need to help his body get used to working right again, but the thought of a feeding tube seemed too much. Perhaps it was illogical, and Peter had definitely been through worse, but Tony didn't want them to share that experience as well as water torture.

Helen sighed. "Okay, then he'll need a PEG feed."

"What's that?" Rhodey asked.

"A percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy. It's a more invasive procedure than a nasal feeding tube, a small surgery, but we can do it with local anesthetic and conscious sedation. I'll have to bring more equipment, and someone needs to either create lidocaine and benzodiazepines that will work on him or collect some from Wakanda. The feedings will be easier on Peter, though. He will not have to be attached to the tube for nearly as long. It'll just take twenty minutes or so every few hours. The rest of the time, he won't need to be attached to anything."

"Then we do that," Tony said. "Get what you need. I'll call T'Challa for the drugs."

He pulled out his phone, but Helen caught his hand and said, "I don't know why you're resistant, Tony, but I think it's personal to you. Don't project your own experiences and fears onto Peter. It might limit his recovery."

Tony scowled. "I won't do anything to limit him, ever. He's my kid. I just don't want him to be hurt again. I am doing everything I can for his recovery."

He tugged his hand free and dialed T'Challa's number, but Rhodey plucked the phone from his hand this time and said, "I'll make the call. You take care of Pete."

"Thanks," Tony muttered and picked up Peter's hoodie from the end of the bed. "Come on, kid. Let's get you dressed again."

He eased Peter upright and dressed him, Peter's limbs moving obligingly but with no effort on his part to help. When he was done, he adjusted it on his shoulders and helped him stand from the cot and led him out and through to the living room by the hand.

"You want to sit, Pete?" he asked.

Peter walked away from him to the window, his hand pulling free, and he stood with his face raised.

Barnes, who had been sitting on the couch and reading something on a tablet, frowned and said, "I've got an idea. Can I try something?"

Tony frowned. "That depends. What's your idea?"

Barnes got to his feet and said, "Let's take him outside. He's been inside ever since he got back, but he likes the window. I think there's something out there. I'd like to try… Can I?"

Tony nodded his agreement, wondering if Barnes was onto something. They'd not taken Peter outside at all, but maybe it would be good for him. If nothing else, he'd get some fresh air.

He looked down at the slippers Peter was wearing, decided the rubber soles were good enough for him to be outside in, and took Peter's hand. "Let's go, Pete, we're going to get some air."

Barnes held the door open to him, and Tony passed through, guiding Peter with him, then through the main doors into the afternoon sun.

A light breeze moved Peter's hair, and his lips parted as if he was tasting the air. Tony stared at him, looking for awareness in his eyes, but none came.

"Can I?" Barnes asked, hold a hand towards Peter.

"Sure," Tony said, only a little dubiously.

Barnes took Peter's hand and led him towards the lake. He brought him to a stop a few feet from the shore and tilted his head down slightly, so Peter's gaze was on the lake, the sun dancing on the rippling water.

"Yes!" Barnes hissed triumphantly. "He is!"

Tony rushed towards them, heart racing, and quickly looked at Peter. His breaths caught when he saw a trace of something more in his rainbow eyes. Perhaps he imagined it, seeing what he wanted, but they seemed focused for once.

"It's the water," Barnes said. "He's been looking for the water."

Tony gasped and placed a hand on his chest, right over his racing heart. "His eyesight is out of this world. He told me it was dialed up to eleven once. He sees it." He looked hopefully at Barnes. "He does, right? He actually sees it?"

Barnes nodded eagerly. "Yes, I think so. He seems to anyway. It's like he's really looking at it. He liked it before, too, didn't he? He'd sit out here."

"He would. God, I didn't even think… Thank you," he said fervently. "Seriously, thank you. If you'd not seen this, what we all missed, we wouldn't have known."

Barnes looked inordinately pleased, and he grinned and said, "I'm glad I saw it." He took Peter's arm and guided him to a rock, pushed him gently until Peter sat down, and then sat beside him, his shoulder pressed to Peter's.

Tony stared for a moment, seeing the easy way the man that he'd once hated interacted with his son, and he realized he liked it. It shouldn't feel good, he shouldn't trust Barnes with Peter, and he shouldn't want this closeness when he selfishly resented needing anyone's help to care for Peter at all, but he did. It felt like there was another line of defense and comfort for Peter now, and he wanted that desperately. Anything that could help, no matter who it came from, was worth cherishing.

He gazed at Peter as he watched the light ripple on the lake, and then perched on the rock on his other side.

He picked up Peter's hand and said, "You should say thanks, Pete. Barnes worked something out that your old dad was too slow to see. You get yard time now," he bumped his shoulder. "That's good, right?"

"It is," Barnes said when Peter gave no response. "He's…" he hesitated and then said, "Tony, he's connecting to something. We just have to wait for it to be one of us."

Tony gave him a nod and a reluctant smile.

He would wait with hope now. One day, Peter would look at him with awareness in his eyes, be believed, and Barnes was the one to give that hope to him.

That was a gift he couldn't put into words, so he merely said, "Thanks, Bucky," and ignored the soft gasp that came from the object of his remark.

Things were changing, Barnes was becoming Bucky instead of the enemy, and it was for and through Peter.

Even locked away from them all, the kid was changing lives.

So… What do you think? Personally, I love that I am able to build something between Tony and Bucky, and that continues and develops over the rest of the story. And Peter. How is it to read him like this?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx