I Know My Name's Not Ben
"You throw a stone in water, it makes ripples that go out and touch everyone and everything, even at the far edges of the pond. You throw a stone at Tony and it makes waves."
- Rhodey to Pepper one year after Peter was taken.
Tony couldn’t bear to look at his bare chest in the mirror. He always kept his eyes away from the mirror after he showered until he was dried off and had a shirt on. If he caught his reflection without his shirt on, one of the harsh realities of Tony’s life would be reflected back at him. It was a reminder he didn’t need, because he had thought about it every day for the last four years. The black mark above his heart was gone… burned away, now hiding somewhere under a gnarled burn scar the size of a quarter. What that burn mark meant, Tony didn’t know. He couldn’t stand to look at it and not be able to see his black soul-mark underneath… the one he’d been born with… the one his son had been born with. He knew it was still there… soul-marks stayed with you for life, but he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see if it was black, or faded to almost nothing. Without being able to see it, he couldn’t tell if his kidnapped son, now 12 years old, was still alive, or if he’d been killed. The last time Tony had accidentally caught sight of his bare chest in the reflection of glass, he’d broken a glass wall in the med bay. Ever since then he’d been careful around mirrors. Mirrors were just cruel reminders.
The FBI thought that Peter’s kidnappers might have tried to burn Peter’s matching soul-mark off a few days after they’d kidnapped him, though Tony knew there were other possibilities as well. Peter could have been killed and then his body burned. Or he could have been burned over a larger portion of his body while he was still alive. They couldn’t know for sure, because after Peter had been taken four years ago, just a week before his 8th birthday, they hadn’t had any real leads. There had been breadcrumbs, but nothing substantial, and they had never found him. Tony and Pepper continued to look, as did the FBI, but Tony had struggled with the desire to keep looking and to give up hope. Hope just hurt too damn much. He’d had hope those first few days that the FBI would track Peter down before his kidnappers got too far away with him, but then, early one morning, Tony had woken up to searing burning pain above his heart, and looked in the mirror to find that his skin was red and raw, his soul-mark burned. It was the only indication he’d ever had of what had happened to Peter after he’d been taken. In some form or fashion he’d been burned, though if that had resulted in his death or not, Tony didn’t want to think about it. Sometimes he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Tony had never been able to decide if the world was cruel, or if it was only cruel to him. Everyone had a soulmate, only one. It was just one of those things everyone knew. It was a universal truth. Most people met their soulmates, but some didn’t. Regardless, everyone was born with a soul-mark, a little black shape the size of a dime, or in rare cases bigger. Your soulmate would have an identical soul-mark on the same spot on their body. Tony’s was a hollow upside down triangle with the top two corners cut off, just above his heart. You weren’t guaranteed to meet your soulmate, and if you did, you didn’t have to get to know them if you chose not to. Soul-bonds weren’t a demand, just a promise: a promise that there was someone else out there just like you… someone who would understand you in a way no one else could. A soulmate was someone you needed like air, though there were those out there that decided to make their own paths in life and to ignore their soulmates altogether.
There were three kinds of soulmates: romantic, best friends, and children. Romantic soulmates tended to have soulmarks on their wrists and ankles. Platonic soulmates, usually soulmates who ended up being best friends, had their soulmarks on their upper arms, between their shoulder blades on their back, or occasionally on their face. Tony had known a boy when he was younger who had a massive soul mark across one half of his face that looked like a map. He had always wondered in later years if that boy had found his best friend, and wondered if that friend was on the other side of the planet somewhere, since the soul-mark looked like a map. The last kind of soul-mark belonged to parent-child soulmates, and always resided on the chest a few inches above the heart.
Tony was born with his soulmark above his heart, and since neither of his parents had a matching soulmark, it meant the one on his chest belonged to some future child, whether they be biological or adopted, or even just a child he would come to care about as his own. In his young life he’d been excited by it, staring at the hollow upside down triangle in the mirror and wondering what his future child would be like… if he’d look like him, or if he’d like the same things Tony did.
As Tony got older he came to be horrified by the soul-mark though… horrified by what it meant. His childhood had been awful. He had loved his mother and father, and while his mother was kind, his father was distant and aloof. When he and Howard interacted on rare occasions when Howard wasn’t busy becoming a tech giant, Howard was yelling at him or putting him down, or threatening to ship him off to a military school just to get Tony out of his hair. At some point that was what had happened, though Tony had been shipped off to MIT at 15 instead of a military school, and only because he was a genius and was able to graduate high school after only a year.
Tony had been bullied in middle and high school, and then had been bullied even more in college as the youngest student there. He might have enjoyed college if it hadn’t been for all the teasing and names he’d endured. Rhodey had been the one to get Tony through college, his only friend. That was a debt Tony would never be able to repay despite that he tried, and was still trying.
When Peter had been born with Tony’s soul-mark above his own heart, little black upside down triangle shining brightly like the universe had just inked it onto the newborn’s skin, Tony had held his breath staring down at it. Pepper also had a soul-mark over her own heart, one that looked like an alpaca of all things. Not detailed, but, alpaca shaped nonetheless. When he found out Pepper was pregnant and they were expecting a baby, Tony had hoped their child would be born with that funny little alpaca mark, but had found himself staring instead at the oddly shaped triangle. Pepper had been ecstatic, but Tony had been wary. The leading theory about soulmates was that soulmates could understand each other so well because they’d lived through similar experiences. Tony didn’t want his child to grow up unhappy, feeling unloved, unwanted, and alone. He didn’t want his child to get bullied, or feel isolated, or to feel like his parents didn’t care about him.
Tony had already decided the moment Pepper had told him she was pregnant that he was never going to treat his child the way Howard had treated him, but as soon as Peter had been born with Tony’s matching soul-mark, he’d doubled down on that promise.
As Peter grew, Tony spent as much time as he could with his son. He took him to the office with him, he brought his playpen into the lab, he played with him, and as soon as he was old enough, he had Peter handing him tools in the lab and helping him work on cars. He taught Peter about the music he liked, they watched cartoons together, and Tony never put him down, not like Howard had done.
Then when Peter was seven, Tony had been kidnapped and had found himself trapped in a cave in Afghanistan. He’d spent three months being tortured, lugging around a car battery wired to his chest, and building a suit to get himself out of there and back home to Pepper and Peter. It wouldn’t be until a week after he was home that he and Pepper realized just what his soul-mark looked like. Pepper had always told Tony she thought his mark looked like a heart, and thought it was cute that he and Peter both had a heart shaped soul-mark above their hearts. Now they knew that the soul-mark he and Peter shared was Tony’s arc reactor. The arc reactor had been gained by way of grievous injury… Tony had it because he’d almost died. That knowledge brought with it a slew of old emotions and fears that someday Peter would go through similar trials.
Reactors and alpacas… he felt like he and Pepper were an odd pair. Her mark was cuddly and belonged to some future child she hadn’t had yet, and Tony’s mark, at least to him, represented despair and pain. When they’d first gotten together Rhodey had said it only meant they were going to have two kids, one bossy like Pepper and one arrogant like Tony. Tony wished that was all it meant. Any hope that their soul-marks meant a happy family and nothing more were washed away the day Peter was taken. Tony had never really been able to bring that hope back to himself after that.
* * *
As soon as his chest had seared and he’d lifted his shirt to see that the reactor soul-mark had been burned up, Tony had spiraled. He’d continued cooperating with the FBI, but he’d locked himself away in his lab after that, focusing on controlling what he could since he had no control over getting Peter back. Peter had been taken only a month after Tony had escaped and then been rescued and come back from Afghanistan. Tony knew then that all his fears had been confirmed. Peter had been kidnapped, because Tony had been kidnapped. Tony had also been tortured, and he feared as soon as the burn appeared over his mark that it meant Peter was being tortured too. He could never forgive himself for that. His son was suffering because of him… because of how his own life had gone from one shitty disaster to another.
Pepper was distraught that Peter had been taken as well, because she was his mother, but she didn’t blame Tony for the kidnapping. She didn’t believe him that this was the sort of thing his and Peter’s shared soul-mark demanded. That it demanded they go through similar life experiences so they could understand each other.
Instead Pepper told him that she thought it was possible that Peter wasn’t following in Tony’s footsteps, but that the opposite was true. She thought that Tony had gone through everything he had, through all of the challenges he’d overcome in preparation for what Peter was going to go through in his own life. She thought that since Tony had been born with the mark first, he needed to be able to understand and help his son later in life, so he’d had to go through some things that would make him understand. Pepper believed then (and had for the last four years) that one day Peter would be brought home, and that Tony would be the one to help him as soon as he was found.
Tony didn’t know if he believed her or not. He’d only been gone for three months in Afghanistan, and been tortured heavily in that time. His seven, almost eight year old son had been gone now for four years. He couldn’t imagine his son being tortured for any amount of time, let alone four years.
Four years had passed. Four years without his son, and without knowing if he was dead or alive. Four years where Tony had separated himself from Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and everyone else around him. He locked himself away in his lab and created Iron Man Mark II. After that task was completed he’d had nothing to keep his mind off of Peter (not that anything really could), so he’d taken the suit to hunt down the terrorists who had kidnapped him and who were still hurting and killing people in Afghanistan. Then that task was completed, and he’d moved on to the next thing, and the next, and the next.
He still saw Pepper, still lived with her. He still saw Rhodey, and Happy, but conversations between Tony and anyone else had dropped from friendly to only what was necessary. They passed on necessary information to him, and he responded. That was it. In the four years without Peter, Tony had become Iron Man… become an Avenger. He’d fought aliens in the skies over New York. He’d fought Vanko and a number of other enemies. He’d met a lot of people in SHIELD, and on his team. He’d never become friends with any of them though. In fact, he was certain he’d lost the few people that had been close to him.
Tony had gained a reputation for being unapproachable, and while he hated that he knew he was probably hurting Pepper by isolating himself from everyone, he wasn’t sorry that people left him alone. People that got too close to Tony got hurt. Peter was proof of that.
* * *
He knew his name was Peter. It wasn’t his fault that others didn’t believe him. It also wasn’t fair that he was always punished just for wanting to be called by his real name.
“What a loser,” Flash laughed. “You’re a fucking joke you know that Parker?” Peter was hefted up by several sets of rough hands, kicking and squirming all the way, and then unceremoniously pushed over the tall sides of the disgusting green dumpster behind Midtown School Of Science And Technology. There was some trash in here, but not much because Monday was trash pickup day at Midtown, so when he toppled over the side, he fell a distance and hit the bottom of the metal dumpster with a ringing thud. He could hear the laughter of Flash Thompson and his friends outside. It carried in and echoed around the metal prison he’d just been deposited into.
Flash’s face came over the side and he grinned and laughed when he saw Peter lying on the bottom of the dumpster. His elbow smarted from where it had smacked the metal floor, and his arm had landed in some sort of gooey trash that had been thrown in here earlier in the day.
“You’re trash you little shit. This is where you belong, got it?”
Peter just stared up at him, and Flash held up his hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you Ben,” he called down to him. “I said you’re trash and this is where you belong, right?”
“I’m trash and this is where I belong,” Peter mumbled. He knew Flash wouldn’t leave him alone until he said it. Flash laughed and then his friends closed the black plastic lid on the dumpster, leaving Peter in darkness. It stank in here, and it was dirty and grimy. Peter tried to push down the desire to burst into tears. Uncle Ben always told him not to cry when bullies picked on him because it would make him look weak, and bullies always targeted weak kids. Peter was a weak kid. He had asthma, he needed glasses to see the chalkboard, and he was smaller than all the other kids in his grade. He had always been smaller, though now that he was in high school that difference was really pronounced. Flash was more than a foot taller than him, and it meant that doing things like stuffing Peter into lockers, or lifting him into dumpsters was a lot easier for them because they were bigger than he was. It wasn’t fair. A lot of things about Peter’s life weren’t fair, but he’d come to that realization early on. It was just the way things were for him. It was a fact, as much as two plus two equals four, and that aliens existed.
The lid of the dumpster was lifted up and light flooded into his prison. For a moment he feared Flash and his friends had come back to torture him some more, but when he looked up he only found the face of Ned. Ned was bigger than he was too, but he was one of the few kids Peter had encountered at Midtown that didn’t seem determined to make his life hell.
“Peter?” he asked.
Peter stared up at him and climbed to his feet. “Yeah?”
“Holy shit, I saw those guys throwing you in here. I’m sorry. I couldn’t take on four of them by myself. I waited until they left. Come on, reach up here and I’ll help you out.”
Peter reached up and Ned took his elbow. Together, with Ned pulling him up and Peter walking up the inside wall of the dumpster, he climbed up to the edge, and then Ned lifted him down. Ned closed the lid of the dumpster and then reached up to Peter’s hair, now filthy, and pulled a piece of trash out of it, dropping it back into the dumpster.
Peter mumbled his thanks and then stood there, squirming under Ned’s gaze. “You’re not trash, you’re Peter,” he said. When Peter didn’t respond, Ned said, “Come on, say it out loud. Gotta counteract what those jerks said.”
“I’m not trash, I’m Peter.”
Peter flashed him a shy smile and Ned said, “Come on, I’ll take the subway home with you and make sure they don’t bother you again today.”
Ned lived a few streets over from Peter, Peter knew, but this was the first time Ned had offered to ride home with him. School had only been in for a month, and while Peter’s freshman year at Midtown had been hellish so far, Ned was the one bright spot. During freshman orientation, he and Ned had been sitting next to each other. A teacher had called roll and then called his name, “Ben Parker.” Peter had raised his hand and the teacher had moved on. Then Ned had held out his hand to Peter and said, “Hey Ben, I’m Ned.”
Peter had mumbled, “I’m Peter,” and while Ned had given him a confused look, he kept his hand proffered and said, “Hi Peter, I’m Ned.” He was the only one at Midtown to accept his name as Peter without question. He was the only one at Midtown at all to call him that, and the only one in years to call him that.
There were a lot of things Peter wasn’t really clear on. He was frequently confused, or at least that’s what May and Ben always told him. His aunt and uncle said his name was Ben Richard Parker, but Peter knew it wasn’t. He knew with every fiber of his being that his name was Peter. He could remember his dad calling him that. His memories of his parents were fuzzy, especially of his mom. He knew she had strawberry blond hair, and that she was nice, but that was all. He had memories of handing his dad tools and working on a red sports car though, of listening to loud music, of his dad’s soft voice reading him a bedtime story, and of his dad’s kind eyes looking down at him, dancing with warmth as he smiled. Those were things he remembered, but they weren’t things May and Ben agreed were true.
“You’re confused,” had been their constant mantra for the last few years, and to be fair, sometimes Peter really was confused. When May and Ben had first appeared in his life, they’d told him that his parents didn’t want him anymore, and had sent him to live with May and Ben, but Peter hadn’t known May and Ben from anybody, and he hadn’t believed that his parents didn’t want him. He was seven, and his eighth birthday had been coming up, and his mom and dad had told him how excited they were to take him to the zoo. Why would they be excited to take him to the zoo, and then just give him away? Peter hadn’t cooperated with May and Ben then. He’d fought them every step of the way. They wanted him to eat, and he wouldn’t. They wanted him to take a bath, or change into pajamas, or to go to sleep, and he’d kick and scream, and use bad words he sometimes heard his dad use. “You’re kidnappers!” It was one of the few things he remembered shouting at May in the early days of when they first had him. He’d been convinced they were, and then they told him that after his parents had given him away, they’d gone on a trip and died in a plane crash. That was the day his parents had changed into Mary and Richard Parker, and he’d first been told, “You’re confused.”
“My dad’s name is Tony!” he’d screamed in disbelief at May, arms flailing as she tried to hug him, to console him. “They didn’t die in a plane crash!”
“You’re confused Ben, it’s ok. I know this whole thing has been confusing for you.”
And it really had been confusing, because he’d woken up screaming, pain searing across his chest, breath heaving. He’d found May and Ben standing over him in the hotel room they’d been staying in, and looked down to find his shirt stretched out and his soul-mark red and inflamed like fire. They told him it meant his parents had died… that his soul-mark was burning because his parents had burned to death in the plane crash. He had suspected the truth was that May and Ben had somehow done this, but in that moment he hadn’t been sure.
They gave him details of his life that Peter knew couldn’t be true. He was told over and over that his parents were Mary and Richard Parker, and that May and Ben were his aunt and uncle. He was told that his name was Ben Richard Parker, and that he was now alone in this world. To help him remember the ‘right’ details of his life, he was frequently punished if he forgot or if he argued and told them that he didn’t recognize the photo of Mary and Richard, that his dad had a beard and that his mom had strawberry hair. Peter had learned fast not to talk back or he’d get a quick smack across the face and find his cheek stinging. He’d learned fast to not forget the ‘real’ details that May and Ben wanted him to remember, or he’d get spanked hard and have a stinging backside. He’d also become certain that he had been kidnapped.
Peter had been telling teachers, classmates, and even neighbors for years that he had been kidnapped, that his name wasn’t Ben, that it was Peter, and that he wanted to go home. Twice a teacher had believed him and called the police, and twice the police had come to investigate, only to be provided with Peter’s birth certificate as well as a certificate of death for Mary and Richard Parker. “It’s been a very confusing time for him,” Ben would tell the police. Peter had always supposed it had helped that Ben was a police officer too as that made him more believable. Even small children were taught by their parents to trust the police. “His parents died suddenly and he’s never believed us. This isn’t the first time he’s told someone he’s been kidnapped. He’s never accepted us as his family because our relationship with his parents was strained and he’d never met us before they died.”
To be fair, the police had taken him aside separately and asked him for details of his life, just to be sure, but Peter could never remember his mom’s name, or their last name. All he knew was that he was Peter, and his dad was Tony. Inevitably, the police always left him there with May and Ben, and Peter was punished in ways he didn’t like to think about. The kids at school always thought he was some sort of freak, and the teachers always looked at him with too much pity. Now, years later, he still told new people he met that his name was Peter, though only if they were people at school that he knew his aunt and uncle wouldn’t interact with, because he didn’t want to get in trouble. And when he did get in trouble, and when he was told he was confused, he repeated his real name to himself again and again so he wouldn’t forget, like he’d forgotten so many other details of his life. I know my name is Peter. I know my name is Peter. It became his mantra.
“Hey, you know, you can hang out with me at school at lunch,” Ned said. Peter looked over at him as they walked to the subway station.
“Really?” Ned had never been mean to him yet, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t some sort of cruel joke.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, I just sit by myself most days anyway. If you sit with me it might make some of those jerks leave you alone.”
“That’d be… yeah, all right, that’d be cool,” Peter said, trying desperately to pretend he was as cool as Ned.
“I saw you wearing a Star Wars shirt earlier this week. You like all of the movies or only some of them?”
“The originals are the best,” Peter said.
“For sure Empire Strikes Back,” Ned agreed. “You know, I have this huge Lego set I got for my birthday last week, and I haven’t even started putting it together yet. It’s a Lego Death Star!”
“Really?” Peter asked. He loved building things. He didn’t have any Legos despite that he’d always wanted a set of his own, but he had an erector set and other building toys Ben occasionally brought home for him. He would bring things home and say, “It’s your birthday come early,” or, “Hey happy birthday kid.” He’d done it so many times that Peter had no idea when his real birthday was anymore. They never had cake on his birthday, or a party, because Peter didn’t have any friends to invite to a party, but at least he got gifts.
“Yeah, you wanna come to my house and work on it?”
“Oh, sorry, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not allowed to go to other people’s houses.”
“Oh, ok then.”
Ned dropped it for a few minutes until they got onto the subway, but then turned and asked him, “How come you can’t go to other people’s houses? You’re 14 right?”
Peter shrugged. “It’s my aunt’s rule. I don’t know why. I’m allowed to go to home and school, that’s it.”
“Well, can other people come to your house?”
Peter stared at him, not sure what the answer to that question was. “I don’t know.”
“You should ask.”
“I don’t have any Legos or anything like that at my house to play with.”
“That’s ok, I can bring over the instruction booklet and a big box and we can work on a section of it.”
“You’d.. I mean, you’d want to- you’d want to do that? You’d really want to do that?” Peter shut his mouth and then gave Ned an apologetic look. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I mean, I’m sorry. My brain gets super super super fast when I’m excited, and then I ramble, and I know that’s not cool, and I can’t stop, and-” he finally reached up and covered his own mouth with his hand, looking horrified. Ned only chuckled.
“Dude, don’t worry about it. You barfing words out all over me is fine. At least it means I’ve got someone to talk to. School has been so boring without anyone to hang out with. If my one and only friend rambles because he’s excited to build Legos with me, it’s cool. It means I can tell my mom to stop pestering me about making friends.”
“We’re friends?” Peter asked. He wouldn’t know, because he’d never had a friend before, not really. Kids on the playground always thought he was weird because he was smaller than all of his classmates, and because he couldn’t understand what made other kids tick. They would joke around in ways he didn’t get, talk about shows that he was uninterested in and call him a baby for liking cartoons they didn’t like. It was always a factor in him getting bullied, and it made it hard to find someone that didn’t mind his rambling, or the cartoons he liked, or anything he was into at all. In his last few years of school he’d stopped trying to hang out with other kids at recess and lunch and had spent his free time at school in the library, reading and learning. On weekends Ben took him to the public library and he checked out books on anything that might keep his mind occupied. He was currently obsessed with space travel and had half a dozen books up in his room about that. It had fueled his recent obsession with Star Wars, and Star Wars had re-fueled his obsession with learning all the names of the planets and all of their moons, as well as the tech that was currently carrying astronauts in the public and private sector to space. Last year he’d overheard May and Ben talking about bumping him up a grade because he was so smart, which would have meant he would have ended up a Freshman in high school last year instead of getting to do eighth grade. He’d started goofing off in class and failing tests on purpose then. Getting put in an even higher grade would mean he’d be even more isolated. His plan had worked and he’d been allowed to stay in the eighth grade and then move on to 9th grade at the start of this year like he was supposed to.
“Yeah, I mean, we can be friends if you want to.”
“Yeah, friends, yeah, I can- I’d like that. Friends,” he rambled. Ned shook his head and laughed, but Peter knew he wasn’t laughing to be mean, and after he’d clamped his hand over his mouth again for a moment, Peter laughed too.
* * *
“Aunt May?” Peter asked quietly, trying to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. May had her back to him and was standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables up for dinner. She was a horrible cook and always managed to burn whatever she tried to make, but on Thursdays she got home before Ben and did all the meal prep so he could make dinner when he got back at nine. It was eight thirty now.
“Yeah Ben?” she asked.
“Uh, can I, I mean, there’s this friend, Ned, I mean, and I-”
“Take a breath,” she told him, turning her back to him again. She didn’t mind that he rambled, unlike the teachers and most of the kids at school, and he was grateful for it. She and Ben both understood that he had trouble saying only what he wanted to if he was excited, anxious, or upset. She always told him to pause and breathe though, and then to try again.
“Uh, can my friend come over after school some time?”
She set her knife down and turned to look down at him. “You have a friend?”
Peter nodded.
“That’s great Ben!” she said, smiling at him. “I know you’ve been getting bullied. Your uncle Ben and I had talked about switching schools again.”
“No no, I don’t wanna do that,” Peter said quickly. He hated Midtown with a passion because he couldn’t get a moment of peace from the bullies, but he knew it would be the same wherever he went. At least here he had Ned now. He’d been sitting with Ned at lunch for two weeks and had been taking the subway to and from school with him. As a result Flash hadn’t beaten him up since he’d punched Peter and thrown him in the dumpster. Every year almost, May and Ben either picked up and moved states, or at the very least moved Peter to a new school to get away from the bullies and give Peter a ‘fresh start’ where he could try again. He hated the constant moving. “I mean, I really like Ned. We eat lunch together, and he stops the bullies from picking on me too much, and he likes Star Wars and-”
“That’s great honey. Take a breath and slow down. You asked if he could come over after school?”
Peter nodded, keeping his mouth shut tightly. She looked like she was really considering it and might let him have a friend over.
“What’s he like? Is he nice? Is he a freshman?”
Peter rambled for several minutes about Ned and everything he’d learned about him in the past two weeks. He didn’t tell her that Ned called him Peter.
“I’ll need to meet him. I’ll tell you what, I’m actually off work early tomorrow. If it’s ok with Ned’s parents, he can come over here and the two of you can watch a movie or play in your room.”
“Really?” Peter practically screamed in excitement.
“Use your inside voice. Yes really.”
Peter bounded off to his room. He didn’t have a cell phone like the other kids at school did. According to May and Ben he was too young for one and wouldn’t be allowed to have one until he was a junior or senior in high school, otherwise he would text Ned. He had Ned’s phone number memorized though, despite that he’d never called him before. Ned had written it down for him and Peter had stared at it for days, committing it to memory just in case he’d need to call his friend and tell him something really cool.
The next day he told Ned before school started, Ned texted his mom that he had plans after school, and then at the end of the day they rode the subway home together. After they got off the subway they still had to walk several blocks to Peter’s apartment. Peter fidgeted nervously the whole way there and then finally blurted out, “You can’t call me Peter while we’re at my house.”
Ned raised a brow. “Why not?”
“Uh, it’s not allowed. I mean, it’s really really not allowed. My aunt wants to meet you, and check to see if you’re ok and a good person and ok for me to hang out with, and if you call me Peter she’ll freak out and you won’t be allowed to come over, and I’ll get in trouble. Like, big trouble. Really big trouble. Yeah, just, lots of trouble.” He sped through it all and then chanced a look up at Ned and found him staring at him.
“Dude. Ok. I mean, I’ll call you whatever you want.” They walked a few more paces and then Ned said, “Can I ask you something though? I wondered, but I didn’t wanna be rude.”
“Yeah, ok, yeah, a question. I can answer a question.”
“The teachers call you Ben, but you told me you wanted to be called Peter. Now you’re saying you’ll get in trouble if I call you that. Why? I mean, why do you want to be called something that’s not your name and why will you get in trouble if you are? My cousin Cindy wanted to be called George, and the family kinda freaked out for a like a week, but then it all settled down and it was fine, and it’s not like you’re changing your name from Ben to Anna or something so-” Ned trailed off.
That was… tough. It had been a long time since Peter had explained the whole kidnapping thing. He didn’t want to scare Ned away and have Ned think he was a freak and a liar too.
“Can we uh, I mean, can we, can we not- uh, can we not talk about it?”
“Ok.” And that was that. Ned didn’t question him further, or press him to answer, and Peter loved him for it. He hoped aunt May loved him too so that he could start coming over. Peter had a feeling that if May and Ben didn’t love Ned, that they’d be switching Peter to a different school, and that was just depressing to think about.
Before they got inside the apartment building and had to start climbing stairs, Peter said, “So you’ll remember to call me Ben right?”
“Sure thing Ben.”
Peter grinned and they climbed up to the fourth floor. Peter used his key to get inside, and found May inside setting out burnt cookies on the table.
“Uh, hi aunt May. This is Ned. Yeah, Ned, this is my friend Ned.”
She held out her hand to him and Ned took it in a shake. “Hi Mrs. Parker.”
“Hello Ned. You’re sure your mother is ok with you coming over?”
“Yes maam. We just live a few streets over that way,” he said pointing. “I texted her at school and she said it was ok so long as I’m home by five thirty for dinner. I can give you her phone number if you want.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Do you boys want to sit and have a snack before you go do your thing?”
Peter sat at the table and then gave Ned an apologetic look for the clearly burnt cookies. If Ned cared at all, he didn’t comment. He took a cookie, took a bite, and thanked May.
“So Ned, do you have classes with Ben?”
“Only one right now. We’re both in Algebra 1. I’m a little behind most of the freshmen because I struggled with Algebra last year in 8th grade so they put me back in Algebra 1 this year.”
“You’re doing better with it the second time around I hope?”
“Yes maam, I just got my first report card back. It’s all A’s. My mom gave me $5 for every A.”
Peter knew Ned was a lot smarter than him. Peter was struggling to get B’s and C’s in his classes. He had done well in 7th and 8th grade, but Midtown was a tough school and he was struggling not only with the material but the amount of work they had to do.
“Hm, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” May said, winking at Peter. “Get your grades up for the next report card and your uncle and I will see what we can do.”
“Oh, uh, thanks aunt May.”
May patted his head, though it caused him to flinch because just the night before he’d been smacked for his low grades. She went to the counter to start cleaning up from making cookies and start preparing for dinner. “Ned, do you have any hobbies? Do you do sports?” May asked.
“I do academic decathlon team before school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m not very good at sports. I tried to play soccer once, but I didn’t like it. I like computers though, and coding, and Legos. I have a Lego kit I was hoping Pe-” Ned started coughing at the horrified look Peter had on his face at his near slip up.
“Oh my goodness, are you ok sweetie?” May asked, coming over to slap Ned hard on the back.
Ned coughed a few more times, trying to make it believable, then cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, I choked. I’m ok though.” Then he tried to look at anyone other than Peter and said, “I have this Lego set I need people’s help with. I was hoping Ben could help because it’s really big. It’s over 4,000 pieces.”
Peter held his breath, wondering if May had caught his slip or if she believed that he’d meant to say ‘people’ instead of ‘Peter’.
“Oh, well that sounds like a lot of work. Why don’t you bring it over here tomorrow? I’m sure Ben could help, he loves building things.”
“Sure, if that’s ok I mean,” Ned said.
“You’ll have to tell your mother I won’t be home and make sure she’s ok with it. I’ll be working late tomorrow and Ben’s uncle Ben won’t be back until seven.”
“Ok, I’ll ask her.”
Peter hurried through a second burnt cookie and then he and Ned went to his bedroom. When they were in his room Peter flopped on his bed and pulled out a robot he’d been working on building with his erector set.
“Sorry,” Ned said.
“Uh yeah, yeah, no big deal, uh, we can uh, talk about it later? At school I mean? At school, yeah, at school.”
Ned stayed for an hour and then went home. The next morning Peter was surprised to find him waiting for him outside his apartment on the street instead of at the subway station as had become their routine.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Ned said as they walked towards the subway station. “I’m really not trying to be rude here dude, but this whole Peter, Ben not Peter thing is a little weird, and uh, yesterday when your aunt went to touch your hair, you flinched back by like… a mile.”
“No,” Peter said, drawing out the word. “Not uh, no, it wasn’t that bad was it?”
“You acted like she was gonna scald you. She’s not like, a meta human who bursts into flames or anything is she?” Ned was only half joking.
Peter stopped walking, turned to look at him, and then bit his lip. He really wanted to tell Ned, but was aware this could lose him his one friend. “Are we friends? I mean, are we actually friends? You don’t think I’m like, a freak of nature or something?”
Ned sighed and gave him a hard look. “Dude, stop saying that. I told you, Flash is a jerk and you shouldn’t believe what he says.”
“I know,” Peter said. “But what about you? Do you think that? Am I just like, too weird to be friends with?”
“No, you’re cool.”
They started walking again, Peter continuing to bite his lip as they made it another block closer to the subway station.
“I’m gonna tell you something, but you’re gonna think I’m a, I’m a, I’m just like a weirdo or something.”
“Gotta be honest dude, I’m pretty sure we’re both weirdos, ok? Look at us.” He motioned between himself and then Peter. They were both wearing Star Wars shirts. Ned’s had a witty Star Wars pun.
“Not like that,” Peter said. “I just- I just mean-” he stopped walking and Ned stopped abruptly too. “Look, look uh, look, you can’t, you can’t tell anyone what I’m gonna tell you. No one ever believes me. Like I mean, the police, they’ve- they’ve come out before, and then when they come out I get in trouble, like big big trouble.”
Ned didn’t ask any questions, he just waited for Peter to ramble through what he had to say. Peter was glad, because his mind was spinning at an uncontrollable rate at this point, and he just needed to get through it all at once.
“My name is Peter. I know, I know it is. It really is, I promise. But after they took me, they changed it to Ben, and I get in big trouble, like stupid big trouble if they find out I’m being called Peter, or if I tell people I’m Peter. And they like, they tell me I’m confused, but I know I’m not, not on this. I know my name is Peter. I know it is.”
“What do you mean they changed it?”
“They’re not my aunt and uncle. I don’t belong to them.”
Peter was breathing heavily, and as he watched Ned think through what he’d said, he realized that Ned was starting to.
“Your name is Peter,” Ned said, “and that’s not your aunt and uncle? You’re not supposed to be with them?”
Peter nodded, biting his lip and gripping his backpack strap.
“Who are you supposed to be with?”
“I don’t know. I know my dad’s first name, but I can’t remember what our last name was.”
“Are you in foster care?”
“NO!” Peter started walking again, knowing they’d be late to school, and he didn’t want that. He’d never been late to school before, but he didn’t want to find out what would happen if the school called May and Ben and told them he was tardy.
“Peter-” Ned touched Peter’s shoulder to get him to stop walking and Peter flinched visibly, but he didn’t pull away from his friend. He just stopped and Ned caught up with him and looked down into his face, taking in the worried look he found there. “Dude, are you trying to tell me you were kidnapped?”
Peter nodded.
“Are you-” Ned faltered. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. They said my parents died in a plane crash!” Peter whisper yelled, not wanting to attract the attention of other people walking past them on the street. “They, they told me my parents were two people that I didn’t even recognize! I have to, I have to, to tell people the lies they tell me or-” he trailed off.
Ned stared down the sidewalk ahead of them, and after a moment he and Peter kept walking. They didn’t talk again until after they rode the subway and got off again a few blocks from Midtown. Peter was afraid he’d wrecked his friendship with Ned, and that Ned was going to abandon him. They were almost to school when Ned said quietly, “I was wondering if you’d like, skipped a couple grades or something. You’re really small… young I mean. I didn’t think you were 14. It made it even worse that Flash and the others were beating you up and picking on you.” He looked down at Peter and asked, “Are you younger than 14?”
Peter shrugged. “I dunno, maybe? I think I’m 14, but, I don’t really know when my birthday is.”
“You don’t even know your birthday?”
Peter shook his head vigorously. “They kinda just, get me gifts throughout the year and just say happy birthday. I thought I was turning nine one year, and they said I was turning 11. So maybe I was? Maybe, maybe I was turning 11 and just got, like, I dunno, confused? I can’t tell anymore. They tell me lots of things, but I know some aren’t true, like the name of my dad, and my name.” Here Peter touched his chest above his heart. “I have a soul-mark. I know I shared it with my dad. Then- and then, then one day-” he stared ahead of them, not wanting Ned to see tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t even finish the thought.
Ned put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Dude, I don’t know what the heck is going on, but we’ll figure it out.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean, you- you really can’t. The police, they- they never fix it. Ben’s a police officer, and he- well, you just can’t tell.”
“I won’t.” It was a promise. Peter could hear it in his friend’s voice.
They made it the last block to school and went inside without a word. Ned stuck closer to him than ever after that. He wouldn’t let Flash near him, and if Flash shot Peter dirty looks in the halls or shouted across the cafeteria to call him names, Ned called Flash names back. Peter was glad to know what it was really like to have a friend. He wished he could have had Ned with him all the years before this.
* * *
In the weeks after Peter had told Ned, Ned became his co-conspirator. Just like when Peter had told him his real name, Ned never questioned that Peter was telling the truth. If anything, he was watching May and Ben closer than he had that first time he’d come over. It was rare when Ned saw May and Ben, because they always worked late, but Ned had been given the green light by both his aunt and uncle to come over after school as often as he wanted, especially after Ned offered to tutor Peter in the classes he was struggling in.
Ned had been coming to the apartment four days a week after school, and occasionally on Sunday afternoons for an hour just to check up on him. He brought him non-burnt cookies and other snacks to share at lunch, and one day had even given Peter a little wrapped gift on their way home from school.
“What’s this?”
“You said you didn’t know when your birthday is. I thought we could just pick a day and celebrate the same day every year. Is that, I mean, is that ok?”
Peter grinned up at him and tore the light blue wrapping paper off the little box. It was a little Lego set. A red sports car.
“Wow! Hey! My dad had a red sports car! We used to work on it!” He hopped up and down once, twice, and then he skipped ahead of Ned a few feet, spun around, and stood there grinning at him. Ned grabbed the wrapping paper off the sidewalk where it had fallen in Peter’s excitement and balled it up, stuffing it into his backpack.
“He did? You remember that?”
Peter nodded. “I used to help him with it!”
“Do you remember the model? Have you ever thought of researching to see if you could figure out who your parents actually are? I was thinking about it. There are missing persons databases.”
“I don’t remember what type of car. I just know it was bright red, like super bright. It was my dad’s favorite car.” Peter stared down at the little red Lego car on the yellow Lego box, mind on his present. “If May and Ben ever found out I was searching, I’d get in trouble.”
“That’s probably why they don’t let you have a phone,” Ned said.
“You think so?”
Ned nodded, face solemn. “You don’t have a computer either, right?”
Peter nodded.
“We can use my laptop, or use the school computers at lunch.”
Peter bit his lip. “I don’t know how to do that… how to find myself I mean, or them. I don’t know too much about them.”
“We can make a list. I can write down everything you do remember and keep it with me and use that to help search for them.”
Peter was quiet as they walked, and when they were almost back to the apartment, Peter said, “I can’t get caught with that list. We can’t get caught making it.”
“We’ll be careful. They know I’m tutoring you. I’ll keep it all on my computer and if they come home early or something, I’ll just close the document I’m working on and open whatever we’re studying.”
“Are you sure? You don’t uh, you don’t- you don’t wanna just build Legos?”
Ned laughed. “You can build the car and tell me what you remember while you do it.”
There wasn’t a whole lot that Peter remembered, and he worried as he told it all to Ned that afternoon, that it wasn’t nearly enough to figure out the mystery surrounding who he was, and where his real parents were. Peter remembered water and sunshine, lots of water that stretched on forever. He remembered that he had a zebra stuffed animal, and a certain song his dad and mom used to sing to him, but he couldn’t remember the words. He remembered working on the red sports car, and that his dad had brown eyes, brown hair, and a beard. His mom’s strawberry hair was long and stuck out in his mind, along with her kindness, but not her face.
Ned told him not to worry about it, and to tell him if he remembered anything else. Peter really didn’t think he had hope of finding his parents again, but was comforted knowing that whatever happened, Ned was with him on this.
* * *
Peter was staring at his father on the TV screen. It was some news conference, and his father was standing there at a podium, flashing a smile at the camera that looked fake. His beard was a little different than Peter remembered, and Peter couldn’t see his eyes, because he was wearing dark sunglasses, but he recognized the voice. That was the voice of his father, even though he wasn’t reading a bedtime story or singing or laughing. Now his words were sharp, irritated, short, like he didn’t want to be there in front of the cameras.
Everyone on the planet knew who Iron Man was… that Iron Man was really Tony Stark, but this was the first time Peter had seen a photo or video of him, or heard him talking. Holy cow! His dad was Iron Man?!
Holy cow. His dad was Iron Man. Peter’s shoulders fell. Iron Man was definitely not dead. Iron Man was busy. Busy fighting bad guys, and running the Avengers, and running the world’s leading tech and green energy company. May and Ben’s words from years ago came flooding back to him. “Your parents didn’t want you anymore. They didn’t want to raise you. They’ve got better things to do than raising a kid.” Peter hadn’t believed them then, and then they’d said days later that his parents had died in a plane crash. He’d known they had been lying, but maybe he’d been wrong about what they’d been lying about. What if they’d been telling the truth at first? What if his parents really had been too busy to raise him? What if May and Ben had only told him his parents had died to get him to stop fighting and start cooperating?
Peter didn’t take in any of the words his father had said on screen. He was at some sort of press conference, and before Peter could even think to listen to what he was talking about, he had walked away, leaving news reporters shouting after him. Tony Stark is my dad. Tony. Tony.
Peter had always known his dad’s name was Tony. His eyes flickered back up to the TV screen as Ned came out of the bathroom. Tony wasn’t there anymore.
“You ok man?” Ned asked.
“Huh?”
“They just announce that a space shuttle crashed or something?” Ned motioned to the screen. He knew how much Peter loved NASA and followed their shuttle launches.
Peter stared at him, mind blank. For the first time in a long time his mind had come to a grounding halt. Usually his mind was on fire, processing too many thoughts all at once. Now there was just nothing.
“No,” Peter said.
Ned was working on the list again today. He had been searching for Peter on missing persons databases. Peter could tell him he’d just seen his father. He could tell him, but he didn’t. He didn’t even know why. Ned was his friend. Ned was the one who was going to help him figure all of this out. Peter kept his mouth closed, and didn’t say a word.
* * *
Peter told Ned he had a new obsession with green energy, and wanted to look into what Stark Industries was doing. Since Peter had a class project coming up in science anyway, Ned thought nothing of it. He let Peter use his laptop after school while Ned studied for an upcoming Spanish test, and Peter set to work reading blogs and news articles, not about green energy, but about Tony Stark and Pepper Potts-Stark. He drank in the appearance of his mom, who he had never been able to remember the face of. She was beautiful, and smart, he knew she had to be because she was the CEO of Stark Industries. Everything online said she was not to be messed with. There was nothing bad about her, but there was a wealth of opinions and information on his dad.
There were a lot of things online about his dad’s younger years, but Peter didn’t pay much attention to that stuff. He wanted to know what his dad was like now. Internet trolls, news outlets, and social media all agreed: Tony Stark was difficult to approach. He often yelled or cursed at reporters, throwing his hand up in front of their cameras. He’d been through a dozen personal assistants in the last year alone, some quitting after only a day. And he almost never smiled. Peter thought back to the brief glimpse he’d seen of him on the press conference, giving the reporters a smile so fake it was painful to look at. It looked like it had been painful for his dad to make.
He thought again about telling Ned he’d figured out the mystery, but what if he did? What were he and Ned going to do? Sneak over to Stark Tower and demand to see Tony Stark and Pepper Potts? Peter couldn’t imagine facing down his father now. He seemed so unapproachable… so far away, that he might as well have been on the Moon, or even Mars. Peter would never even be able to get close to him, let alone summon up the courage to talk to him. He’d ramble so much he wouldn’t make sense, or his throat would close up and he’d have an asthma attack, and never say a word at all.
Peter wasn’t allowed to curse, but if he could, he would say that life really wasn’t fucking fair.
* * *
“Do you know what the assembly’s about?” Peter asked. He found Ned by his locker in the crowded hallway. All of their classes had been shortened to make room for some sort of surprise assembly for the school between sixth and seventh period.
“I heard it was some sort of guest speaker. My science teacher was excited. Guy could barely teach the lesson after lunch. He kept bouncing around on the balls of his feet and clapping and rubbing his hands together.”
“Wonder who’s that cool?” Peter asked.
“Not you loser,” Flash said, passing Peter and Ned and giving Peter a nasty look. He was headed towards the auditorium.
“You know what, we’ll just let Flash get in and get settled, and we’ll go in last,” Ned said. “That’ll make sure we’re seated as far away from him as possible.”
Peter nodded. Ned would get no complaints from him about that. They waited a couple of minutes until the halls had half emptied out and then went into the auditorium and found two seats right at the end of a row somewhere near the back. The lights were already dimmed, and there was nervous and excited chatter from the students and teachers around them.
“I really don’t care who it is,” a boy in the row behind them said. “It’s getting us out of class for an extra 35 minutes. That’s good enough for me.”
“What if it’s someone really boring? Don’t you remember when they brought in that dental school last year to talk to us about a career in dentistry?” asked a girl next to him.
“I really don’t care,” the guy said again. “This is saving me from an extra half hour of history class. Anything’s better than that.”
Peter hummed to himself in agreement. An assembly was a nice break from classes, even if it was something boring. This was going to be one of their first assemblies of the year, aside from the one at freshman orientation that explained about following school rules and the importance of getting good grades.
A teacher stood up at the front and walked up the steps to the stage. He tapped into the mic at the podium and said, “Quiet down, settle. Everyone settle. We have a very important guest speaker with us here today to talk to you about a new program with opportunities for high schoolers in the tech industry. I’d really like to give an introduction, but we’re short on time, and I don’t think I could do justice to an introduction for our guest. If you’ll all please welcome Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man.”
There was a collective intake of breath as the teacher stepped off the stage and a man wearing a sharp black suit stepped out into the light.
Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and his chest grew uncomfortably tight, like some enormous monster had suddenly gripped him around his chest and was squeezing, squeezing, squeezing all the air out of him. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
“Peter?” Ned whispered, worry in his eyes. “Dude, take a breath or something, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” Peter’s hands were gripping the armrests, knuckles white. His eyes were wide, staring up at the platform at the front of the dimly lit auditorium… at the man that was standing up there rubbing his own chest like he couldn’t breathe as well.
“Dude, say something or I’m getting a teacher.” Peter’s eyes flickered over to Ned’s, but Ned’s face pinched in concern at seeing how pale his friend was. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Peter let his eyes travel back to the podium. He had seen a ghost, hadn’t he? That was Tony Stark up there… that was the man he’d seen on TV. That was the man Peter thought might be his father. He was too far away to see his eyes… to see if they danced with humor and playfulness. All he could see was the tenseness of the man’s shoulders and posture as he cleared his throat and started to speak. Like on TV, he was projecting a big personality out into the auditorium full of students… his presence filled the space up, and it felt wrong to Peter. His father’s voice was soft and reassuring, not hard and sharp and big, like he owned this place. He was confident in a way Peter couldn’t ever remember being himself.
Ned leaned in and whispered in Peter’s ear. “Dude, I’m going to get a teacher. You are pasty white.”
Peter reached out and grabbed Ned’s wrist as he went to stand up, and Ned paused. “That’s him,” Peter whispered.
“Who?”
Peter reached up and rubbed the burnt spot over his heart, but faltered when the man on stage did the same thing, clearing his throat again as though it was tight. His large presence faltered for just a moment… like he’d lost sight of what he was talking about, but then his hand dropped to the podium again and he picked up a device and clicked it, a huge blue hologram appearing behind him. His presence was filling the room again, students around them hanging on every word.
“That’s him, that’s him,” Peter whispered, voice shaking. “It’s him. Ned, that’s, that’s, that’s him.”
“Yeah, that’s Tony Stark. Dude, I didn’t realize you were such a big fan.” Ned sent him a sly smile and Peter shook his head.
“Ned, that’s my… that’s my dad.”
Ned froze, like he was in a video game that had suddenly been paused. Then his eyes widened and he looked at Peter, and then to the stage at the front of the auditorium. He seemed to be listening to whatever Mr. Stark, the Tony Stark was saying for a moment, but then he looked back at Peter and asked, “Are you sure?”
Peter nodded, hands and body shaking.
“You’re really sure? You’re not joking? This is the real deal? All bets are off? Red alert?”
Peter pressed his mouth closed, not trusting himself to speak, or to not burst into tears. The look on his face and his shaking were enough to make Ned believe him. Ned always believed him, and Peter was so so grateful, like he always was. He would do anything Ned wanted just for that trust that Ned placed in him.
“Ok,” Ned whispered. “Ok, we got this. We’ll figure this out. We’ll… we’ll, what… what do you want to do? You wanna see if we can catch him after the presentation? You want me to talk to him for you?”
Peter nodded, then shook his head. “I’ll-” damn why were his hands shaking so much?! “I’ll do it. Just… just be with me?”
Ned nodded.
Peter tried to pay attention to what the man on the podium was saying (his father, his soulmate), but he couldn’t. His thoughts were moving faster than they ever had before, spinning him away into doubt and fear. What if he doesn’t want me? May and Ben said my parents didn’t want me anymore. What if I was just a burden? Mr. Stark never had any other kids after me. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m not Peter? What if I’m just Ben… Ben Parker? What if-
Ned’s hand settling on his wrist startled him out of his thoughts.
“Stop,” Ned said gently. Ned left his hand on Peter’s wrist and Peter tried to focus instead on breathing. I’m Peter. I know my name is Peter. Even if that was all he knew, that was what he had to hold on to… that and the strength Ned was lending him right now, because Ned’s voice was calm and his hands weren’t shaking like Peter’s still were. Peter, Peter, Peter. I’m Peter. Ned’s here. I can do this, can’t I?
Peter didn’t know if the presentation was long or short. It felt long to him, but he knew the class schedule had been shifted around to give them an extra 35 minutes in the day. 10 to get settled into the auditorium, five to get to their last class of the day. Either way it seemed to be over now and Mr. Stark was shuffling papers up at the podium as row by row the students stood up and grabbed their bags. The weight of this many bodies, this much movement as students waited impatiently to get out the two auditorium exits… it was crushing. Peter and Ned got up from their spot near the back on the end of a row and moved to a wall, pressing themselves up against it to wait.
“What if he, what if, what if he leaves before we can get up there?” Peter asked, voice shaking.
“Then I’ll do something stupid like push everyone out of the way and tackle him,” Ned said. Peter knew he was trying to be funny, to lighten his mood like he always did, but Peter was too nervous for it to help him now. “Try to breathe, you still look like you’re gonna pass out or something.”
Peter sucked in a breath and held it.
“Dude,” Ned said with a wince, “that is not what I meant. You’re killing me here.”
He let his breath out as the last few students pushed out of the auditorium, and the space was filled with stillness and silence aside from Mr. Stark, now making his way off of the stage and down the aisle towards one of the exits. Peter just stood there, frozen. It surprised him when Ned moved towards Mr. Stark and into his way, between him and the exit he'd been moving towards. Peter watched in horror and fascination as Mr. Stark’s face shifted from irritation to resignation.
“What is it, you want an autograph or a selfie or something?”
“No sir,” Ned said.
“Then I’m going to need you to move so I can get out of here. I have an important meeting in an hour.”
“There’s someone who needs to talk to you first.” Ned motioned to Peter and Peter’s feet seemed to be moving without his permission, carrying him on unsteady legs towards Ned and Mr. Stark. Towards his father… his soulmate.
“Just hear him out for a minute,” Ned said, and then he stepped back. Suddenly Peter found himself on the receiving end of a cold look that said Mr. Stark would rather be in his car speeding away towards his meeting.
“I uh…” Peter looked down at the floor. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. It was going to blow up in his face, like when he told others that he had been kidnapped, only this time Mr. Stark would laugh at him and tell him that he hadn’t been kidnapped, he’d been sold, or given away, or dumped off on Ben and May.
“Go on,” Ned said, nudging his shoulder from behind. Peter actually stumbled forward a little. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, suddenly finding his mouth dry.
“I know my name is Peter,” he said, voice quiet. Mr. Stark didn’t respond and Peter didn’t look up at him. He couldn’t stand to see that cold look of hatred he knew his father would have for him daring to talk to him after he’d been thrown out like trash… like the trash that he was. “They uh, they, they, they say my name is Ben, but I know it’s really Peter. I uh, I remember things… I- they’re different than, than, than what they told me.” It had been hard to start talking, but now Peter was finding it hard to stop. His brain was working faster than his mouth could form words, making him stumble over them and feel like he was stupid.
Peter did look up at Mr. Stark then. There was anger on his face. He looked like he wanted to slap him, or shake him, or stalk away. Peter wished his mouth would hurry and catch up to his thoughts so he could get through it all before Mr. Stark left. At least then Peter would know he’d said it all out loud. He’d told Ned some things, but he’d never told anyone all of it. “I- I- I- there was uh, a song I remember. I don’t- I can’t remember the words, they’re uh gone, but I remember the melody.” And then because he needed a minute for his mind to slow down and his mouth to catch up, Peter began to hum the lullaby he had always been sung when he was small. “La la dum, la la dum dum, la la dum. And- and there was a stuffed zebra, a stuffed zebra, yeah, and uh, a lot of water. Like, a lot. Like there was like a, a, a, a porch thing… and you could just see water forever. Lots of- lots of, lots of water.” Peter was breathing heavily, words coming out stilted and shaky, cut off before his mind could finish the thought. “Lots of water,” he repeated. “And a racecar… a red one. A red race car. You, you, you, you would let me-” Peter took a deep breath, chest feeling tighter and tighter. He chanced a glance up at Mr. Stark again and found that his face had gone pale. He was standing stock still, frozen. He looked… undone. This wasn’t the man that filled the whole auditorium with his boisterous presence. It wasn’t the soft eyes of the man that had sung to him and tucked him into bed at night and let him hand him tools as he worked on his red race car. This man’s eyes were all panic, and sadness, and shock, and anxiety and fear.
“He just needs a minute Mr. Stark,” came Ned’s voice from behind Peter, and Mr. Stark’s eyes came up to meet Ned’s, reluctantly, like he didn’t want to take his eyes off of the trembling boy in front of him. The apparition of his missing son. “His mind races ahead at warp 9 and his mouth just needs a minute to catch up sometimes. Just give him a minute.”
Tony let his eyes fall back to the pale, skinny boy with wavy, curly brown hair standing before him. The kid was shaking, from his voice to his hands. He looked like he wanted to fall over. “You think-” he trailed off, needing a moment to collect his own thoughts and find his own voice again. “You think you’re my missing son,” he said, voice quiet. The FBI had found a few kids before… bodies, but also two live missing boys around Peter’s age. It had been heart wrenching each time they called him and Pepper to see if they could identify children that might be their son. This was the first time an actual child had approached him though. His eyes traveled to the kid’s face again, what little he could see of it because the kid was staring at his feet, fidgeting with his shaking hands. Then Tony looked at his brown curly hair. This kid thought he was kidnapped. That’s what he’d implied hadn’t he? They had told him his name was one thing, but he remembered his name being another? And he remembered the ocean, and a stuffed zebra and a red race car. All things that had been parts of Peter’s life before he’d been taken.
“You think your name is Peter?” Tony asked.
The kid nodded. “I’m not sure,” he said, contrary to what he’d told him with certainty before. “They keep saying it’s, it’s, they keep saying I’m Ben. I remember being Peter though. I think- I think, yeah, my name is Peter.”
Tony knelt down in front of him and Peter flinched, and then stilled, wide scared eyes coming up to meet his. The kid was small… much smaller than his friend and any of the other high school kids he’d seen that day.
“How old are you Peter?” Tony asked, voice soft. Even if this wasn’t his son, he was potentially a missing kid. He already knew the answer before Peter responded though. Tony could feel a deep, crushing anxiety in his chest. He could feel something… like a tugging coming from just above his heart, where his burnt soul-mark was. This was his son. This was Peter. This was his soulmate standing before him. It was Peter’s anxiety he was feeling deep in his chest, and the two burnt soul-marks begging to be recognized. Just as he'd been about to start speaking to the auditorium of students, a sudden unexplainable panic had gripped him. He wasn't new to panic attacks, but hadn't expected to feel one coming on just because he was going to speak to an auditorium full of teenagers. It had confused him half an hour ago, but now with Peter there before him, he understood: it hadn't been him panicking, it had been Peter.
“14?” Peter said, and he sounded like he wasn’t sure.
“My son is 12,” Tony said. “When he went missing he was almost-”
“Eight. Eight. I was eight,” Peter stuttered out. “I was eight.”
Tony nodded. What the hell had happened to his kid? Why was he shaking so much? He looked ready to fall over.
“Do you mind if I just check something?” Tony asked, voice gentle.
Peter nodded to give him permission. Tony reached up towards Peter’s shirt, but Peter flinched and almost fell over backward trying to get away. A pang of Peter’s sharp fear shot through Tony, and he stilled, hand hanging in the space between them and then he held both hands up so Peter could see he wasn’t going to hurt him. Peter’s eyes were on his hands and Tony said, “I won’t hurt you. Why don’t I just show you something instead?”
The air around them felt heavy, like breathing water as Tony reached up to the buttons on his shirt and began to unbutton them from the neck down. With four buttons undone he shifted his shirt to reveal the burned mark over his heart, just an ugly scar now, no longer a black reactor with finely defined lines. Peter stared at it and Tony asked quietly, “Do you have something like this Peter?”
Peter’s hand moved to his own heart, and then he reached up with both hands and yanked at the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it down without caring if it ripped or stretched out, and revealed a burn mark on his own chest.
“Do you know what that is?” Tony asked him, voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Peter had heard him or not. “Do you know what was there under the burn?”
“A- a- it was a- it was a soul-mark.”
Tony tapped on the metal reactor core in his own chest and then pulled his partially opened button up shirt down a little to reveal it in the dimly lit auditorium. “It was a reactor. My reactor.” Peter stared at the glowing reactor core, scrutinizing the shape of it, and then his eyes flickered up to the burn scar just above Tony’s heart.
“Am I-” Peter’s voice caught and his eyes came up to Tony’s. “Am I Peter? Am I your- am I, am I, am I him?”
Tony nodded.
“And- did you… did you and my- and Miss Potts… did you, do you, I mean, do you want me?”
It was Tony’s own pain that rippled through his chest at that… at hearing Peter wonder if he was wanted.
“Always,” Tony said, voice quiet. After his son’s flinch earlier, he wasn’t sure if Peter would allow a hug, but Tony needed to have his son in his arms again. He needed to know he was real… that he was really here and this wasn’t a dream. He’d dreamt too many times that they’d been reunited only to wake up in tears and frustration in the morning with the realization that it was something his mind had made up. He opened up his arms, holding them out. He would let Peter decide if he wanted a hug. The child practically collapsed into his arms as soon as he held them up though, and as soon as they were together, Tony felt the sting of the mark on his chest reacting to their proximity. It felt simultaneously like someone was scrubbing at the burn on his chest with a scouring pad and like a missing piece of him had fallen back into place. He knew by the way Peter stiffened in his arms that he had felt it too.
His eyes were wet, but Tony didn’t care that he was kneeling on the dark floor of a high school auditorium where anyone could come in and see him, or that some kid was staring at the two of them, open mouthed as they hugged. For the first time in four years he felt whole. Raw, but whole. He buried his face in Peter’s neck and Peter buried his face in the fabric of Tony’s black shirt. Peter was clutching at his shirt like he’d disappear if he let go, and in response Tony held him tighter.