Stark And The Spider

Just Act Normal

"Dave Williams."

....................................................................................................

"Dave Williams?" Steve repeats as my dad tightens his hold on me. "Who the hell is Dave Williams."

I just shake my head in response.

"Doesn't matter, because he's going to be dead soon anyway." My dad grits out, looking furious and terrified at the same time.

I shake my head again.

"But who is he?" Steve asks again. "I don't understand--"

"Who's who?" Rhodey asks, walking into the room. He looks at us and his expression becomes more serious. "Who?"

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, I get pulled further and further into the hurricane of a downward spiral of thoughts in my mind.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening.

This can't actually be happening, right?

Please tell me this isn't happening.

"Dave Williams," my dad answers for me.

At the answer, Rhodey's face immediately turns rock hard. "What about him?"

"Who is he?" Steve asks again.

Rhodey sighs and looks at me for permission before answering. "He is--or was--(Y/n)'s mother's husband, who (Y/n) thought was her father for six years. Then, of course, they found out that he wasn't her father...and...well...stuff happened."

I look at him gratefully for not going into details, but my mind still flashes to that day in the hospital. The scene had slowly become less and less vivid as I grew up, but now it comes back and hits me like a train.

...

"Daddy?" I said to him. "Is it going to hurt?"

"You'll be fine, (Y/n)," Dave said, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, but--"

"Just be quiet and do what you're told."

I stopped talking. He said that to me a lot, whenever I got curious and started asking questions, which happened quite often. Whenever my mother was there, she would answer all of my questions and encourage me to ask more. When she wasn't there, however...I found that I would be in less trouble if I just kept my mouth shut.

And my mom was never going to be there again.

I knew why I was there. I knew exactly what had happened, I just didn't really understand it. I didn't dare ask questions. My 'father'--Dave--didn't bother putting it gently. I knew how my mother had died, when she had died, and I knew that I could've been dying too.

Dave left the room, and the doctor came in to take my blood. He, unlike Dave, was very gentle with me and calmed me down a bit before he inserted the needle and took some of my blood.

After he was done taking some of my blood, he left the patient room to go run some tests. I waited for about twenty minutes before hearing Dave's voice and the doctor's.

"It's not a mistake, Mr. Williams! We ran the test seven times!" The doctor exclaimed.

"Well run it again!" He shouted back.

I was worried as to why my 'father' was yelling at the poor doctor, since usually he only yelled at me and no one else. I knew something had to be wrong.