Father-Son Chat
Norman was trying very hard to remain calm and rational.
“We need to talk about what happens next.”
Harry's lips were tightly pursed. He had to agree, but they were both stuck in a no-win situation. No one was going to walk away happy. They were worse off now than if Harry had never made that damn phone call.
Harry was first to offer a solution, “I think we should pretend this never happened.”
Norman nodded for him to continue. He didn't try to interrupt or say anything. He just waited and gave Harry space to finish his proposal. But the silence was intimidating, the look in Norman's eye was calculating, dangerous.
Harry spoke slower to avoid stuttering.
“You... you never threatened to kill me. Stark never kidnapped me. Your son is still missing. And I—I get to have my life as an adult, because I'm an adult now. Neither one of you can take custody of me. I am free to make my own choices.”
The last sentence made Harry feel proud, confident. And Norman ripped that away in an instant.
“No. If your plan is to live in denial, then obviously you're not ready to make decisions for yourself. You're going to come home, we're going to start over. And Stark needs to be punished for what he's done—what he's taken from me—what he's taken from us. Tony Stark deserves to die, but I'll accept sending him to prison as a compromise.”
“No! You can't kill him, and you can't send him to prison! Tony is the best dad I've ever had! He's given me everything! More than you ever could.”
Norman looked ready to kill, but Harry couldn't bring himself to regret what he just said.
“If you hurt Tony, I'll never speak to you again. I'll cut you out. You'll only ever be the enemy.”
Harry expected for those words to be met with more rage, but this time Norman smiled. His smile was more frightening than anything else Harry had seen so far.
“What makes you think you have any bargaining power? Harry, my son, I wish I had the chance to raise you better than this.”
“What do you mean?” The uneasy feeling that had been plaguing Harry, at the edge of his awareness this whole time, became suddenly overwhelming.
“You have no power here. You don't get to make demands or issue ultimatums.” Norman leaned back and gestured around the room. “Look at where we are. You are in my house, at my mercy.”
Harry's body became numb. His face was probably pale as a ghost. He was visibly more distressed now than when he thought Norman was going to kill him.
“But... you said… after all these years… you said you wanted me back, and I—”
“I said I wanted myson back. But if you consider yourself Tony's son more than mine, well… that means you're as good as dead to me. And what did you say earlier? About that family... you said it was a relief to find their child dead. They could finally lay him to rest, fully process their grief, bury him, and move on.”
Norman let that sink in. He didn't delight in seeing Harry scared, horrified and confused. Honestly, his heart ached for his child. Threatening to kill Harry was a bluff, but if Harry believed it then Norman had a better idea of how difficult it would be to convince him to stay, to love, and to trust him again. And now Harry would be motivated to get back into Norman's good graces. The onus would be on Harry to fix their fractured relationship. Norman was certain that this would make his son more cooperative than if he simply allowed the boy to go on thinking that he'd have immunity from consequences just because his father loved him.
“Make no mistake, Harry. I do love you, I always have, but you cannot use that love against me. If you remember me at all, then you should already know that.”
Norman stepped forward, he caressed Harry's face—in the exact same loving way that he always used to—and he asked, “are you going to be a good boy for me tomorrow?”
Harry's breathing stuttered. He choked on his tears. Slowly, Harry nodded his head.
“Say it.”
“I... I'll be good. I–I promise, I'll be good.”
Norman kissed Harry's forehead. “Good boy,” he said. Norman quickly and easily undid all of Harry's restraints. “We'll talk more tomorrow. Now get some sleep.”
And Harry was locked in this guestroom for the rest of the night and all his foreseeable future.
Despair slowly set in, a cold creeping reminder of how he felt when Tony abducted him. It had been years since Harry had thought about how scary those first few weeks had been. All that fear and pain had been completely overshadowed by the intense feelings he had when Tony went missing in Afghanistan.
Now Harry was left alone, trapped in this room. He didn't want to cry or show any more weakness. He laid down in the cot. Closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.