Not Anymore

Chapter 21: Family Can Be Found [Peter's POV]

I was sitting with Tony and James at the place where they all eat food. The rest of them stayed away, thinking that it was probably best to just give us some space. I appreciated that the most because seeing too many people at once would stress me out a lot.

James and Tony were talking about something together before. I heard them talking, but they were a few floors down so I could not hear them properly, but I desperately wanted to know what they were talking about. I can't ask them though, because I'm never supposed to talk back or ask questions to my superiors.

Sometimes, I feel like it is so hard to remember that I escaped. My mind feels like it was put through a blender, which it quite literally was, and everything feels so muddled. I faintly remember talking to and caring about James, but after he escaped and left me alone, my memories of the two years I spent alone there are hazy and filled with pain. I remember not being in control of my own mind the entire time. Parts of my memories are blotched out, but I remember feeling like a prisoner in my own body as I mindlessly followed orders.

Orders were all I knew. I remembered the rules. I remembered the punishment that came after if I didn't follow the rules completely and properly. It's hard remembering that those rules don't apply anymore. Tony and James keep on trying to remind me that I am not there anymore and I can act freely, but my body stiffens and my mouth clamps shut in every scenario.

"Hey, do you mind giving us a second," Tony's voice called out, cutting through my thoughts. James looked worried, but nodded in understanding and he left. See, even James follows orders here. That means I should as well.

Silence coated the air for a few minutes before Tony started talking.

"So, hey buddy, how are you feeling now?" he asked me.

"I am fine, sir. Fully functional and ready to comply," I automatically responded, my voice taking on a stiff and sturdy sound. This was the expected answer whenever a superior asked about my status, though they did tend to ask in a much harsher tone. Even if I was beaten and tortured and experimented on to hell and back, which I often was every day, I was expected to respond the same way.

I was terrified to look up, a cold, weird feeling washing over me that told me to stare at the ground and not make eye contact.

"Kid, Peter, please, look up," Tony pleaded, a kindness and softness to his voice that by itself eased some tension in my stiff posture. I glanced upwards and saw a worry and hope in his eyes.

"Have I done something wrong sir?" I asked, wondering if I had said something to displease him.

"No, no. You're amazing. Great, even. Excellent. You know you don't have to talk like that here right?"

"What do you mean sir, I was simply answering your initial question. I meant no disrespect and was only trying to follow orders sir."

"Follow orde–? No, Peter, where do you think we are right now?"

"At your tower, sir, in New York City."

"Yea, that's right buddy. You're not with Hydra anymore. You got out and you're staying with me. There isn't any of that sir stuff around here. And no orders or rules. Whatever I say, it's your choice if you want to listen or not."

"I do not understand choices si– Mr. Tony. I follow orders as I am designed to."

"Peter. Peter, I'm so, so sorry. You didn't deserve anything that you had gone through. And as much as they had forced you to feel this way, you are not a tool. You're not just an asset "designed" to do something. You're a person and we care about you. I- I care about you. That's something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Tony looked a little sad and terrified, a heaviness and weariness settling in his eyes.

"Peter, when I found you I couldn't shake off a feeling that I kept on getting. I found you and I usually don't care for strangers, but you found a palace in my heart that fell into the hole that was made after my son had died."

I did not understand what Tony was trying to say. He cared about me? Loved me?

"The thing is, this feeling was gnawing at me from the inside and, as much as I tried to force myself to not think about it so I wouldn't have to go through the pain again, I couldn't help but feel like I had to check. I had to make sure in case this wasn't my miracle that I was overlooking. What I'm trying to say is, Peter, that I took a blood test and I found out that you're my son."

"You're my son Peter that I thought was dead for the past sixteen years."