Chapter 11
They were all so distracted, that none of them heard the door open. They didn’t realize someone else had joined them until a heavy hand settled on Harley’s shoulder.
“Look’s like you’re all having fun.” The deep voice said. Peter jump to his feet and without even thinking about it, he leaned over and shoved the man away from Harley.
“Back off!” He shouted as he launched himself over the back of the sofa. The man stumbled back slightly. He was blond and had blue eyes and oh god it was Skip. Skip was back and was going to hurt him again. He was going to hurt Sky and Morgan and Harley and-
“Peter! Peter it’s ok! It’s just Steve. It’s ok.” Harley stepped towards him to try to calm him down and stop him from going after Steve, but all Peter could see was Skip and Skip’s hands that had just been on Harley. Peter knew what those hands could do. Why was Harley trying to protect him? And why did he call him “Steve”? It was alway Skip or Stephen.
Peter pulled his arm back to punch Skip but he was met with resistance. Skyler had grabbed onto his arm and held it back. “Babe, it’s not him. You’re safe, I promise, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Just take a breath and look at him. It’s not Skip Peter, he’s not here.”
Peter refocused his gaze on Steve, body still tense and ready to fight. Slowly he started to see the differences. This man was taller and wider than Skip. He wore a simple blue tee shirt, not the expensive suits and sweaters Skip alway wore. His hair was more golden than silver. But the biggest difference was the eyes. Skip’s eyes were always sharp and predatory, these ones were soft and honest. Peter stepped back, letting his fist fall to his side. Suddenly it was as if his strings had been cut. His knees went weak and he crumpled to the floor. He curl up against the couch. A deep feeling of dread bubbled up within him. His chest tightened and his hands started to shake. Waves of nausea washed over him as the room spun around him. He let his head fall into his hands as he struggled to keep breathing. People and voices above him felt distorted, as if he was underwater.
“What happening? What’s going on?” A voice said, filled with fear and panic. Peter tried to focus on it, tried to figure out who would be so worried about him. Then he realized it was Tony.
“Back off, just give him space!” Another mans voice, one he didn’t recognize.
“Everyone out! Go!” Tony shouted. The voices softened, then disappeared.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Skyler said quietly.
“I didn’t expect you too.” Tony said. His voice was closer, like he was sitting on the floor next to Peter now.
“What’s wrong with him?” Skyler asked, worry finally seeping into her voice as she lightly places her hand on his back.
“He’s having a panic attack.” The strangers voice was back.
“Can you help him Barnes?”
“Yeah, but I think you should leave.”
“What? No way. I’m not leaving him like this.”
“He doesn’t need you here Tony.” Skyler says sharply, then her voice softened slightly, “He’s already scared, just let him be.”
Peter heard Tony stand and leave the room, asking the other man to shout for him if he needs him.
“Peter, my name is James but you can call me Bucky. You’re having a panic attack. I know it sucks but you are going to be ok. Can you talk?” The man, Bucky, is now kneeling in front of Peter. His hands rest on his knees. One flesh and one silver.
“You have a metal arm? That’s awesome dude.” His words are barely a whisper around the rapid breathing.
Bucky offered a half smile, “Sometimes, but getting through airport security is a nightmare.”
Peter lets out a breathless laugh that turns into a cough as he tries to catch his breath.
“Follow my breathing Peter. In for five, hold for five, out for five.”
Peter mimics Bucky’s breathing, the breaths shaky at first, but they slowly start to steady.
“Good, keep breathing just like that. We’re just going to sit here for a little while and play a game. Tell me five things that you can see right now Peter.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but when Bucky doesn’t back down, he just nods. “Okay, um, you. Sky.” Peter turns his head. “The tv, Morgan’s Barbie house, her Frozen poster.”
“Good job. Now four things you can feel.”
“The floor. Skyler’s hand on my back. My clothes. The couch behind me.”
“Three things you can hear.” Bucky prompted.
“The video game, voices outside the door, you and Skyler’s breathing.”
“Two things you can smell.”
“Seriously?” Peter breathed out.
“Seriously. Come on, you’re almost done.”
“Tony’s cooking. Sweat.”
“One thing you can taste.”
“Blood.” The answer was instant. Peter spat onto his sleeve, trying to clear the blood from his mouth.
“You must have bit you tongue at some point. It’s okay. Skyler, can you get him some water? There’s a mini fridge over there.” Bucky gestured to the other side of the room. Turning his attention back to Peter, he asked, “How are you feeling Peter?”
Peter shrugged.
“No, none of that. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know, tired? My jaw hurts.” Peter rubs at his jawline.
“That’s normal, you were probably clenching your jaw pretty hard. Do you feel calmer?”
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore so that’s gotta be a good thing.”
Skyler passed Peter a mini bottle of water and sat next to him, leaning against the sofa.
“You okay?” He asked her.
“Are you seriously asking me if I’m okay?”
“Yes I am seriously asking you if you are okay. I’m your boyfriend, making sure you are okay is like, my number one responsibility.”
“I’m fine you idiot. Let’s just focus on you for once.
“I’m okay, really. That was just, it was a lot.” Peter rubbed his hands over his face, wiping away the tears he hadn’t realized he had shed.
“Was that the first time that happened?” Bucky asked gently. Peter looks up at him, getting his first good look at the man.
“Um, not really. When I was younger it happened a couple times. Once or twice when I was in juvie.” Peter shut his mouth quickly, realizing what he had just confessed. But Bucky didn’t seem to care. There was no judgement or, more importantly to Peter, pity, in his eyes.
“You should talk to a doctor about it. They might be able to help.”
“I don’t need drugs to turn me into some zombie. And I especially don’t need to lay on a couch and talk to some stranger about all the bad things that have happened to me. I can deal with my own crap.”
Bucky nodded, “I get it. Therapy is… not my idea of a good time either. But, and I’ll never admit this to Sam or Steve, it hasn’t been a complete waste of time.”
“Wait, you see a shrink?” Peter frowned. He had never actually met a man who went to therapy, certainly not one that looked like Bucky.
“Doctor Christina Raynor.” He confirmed. “It wasn’t exactly by choice at first but now, I don’t know, its kind of nice. She helps me find ways to work though my “crap” as you’d put it.”
“So what happened to you?”
“Short answer, I wasn’t in control of my actions for a long time. I had to relearn who I was as a person, instead of an object, a tool for someone else’s use.”
Peter licked his lips nervously, “I think I can kinda relate.”
“If you ever want to talk to someone other than Tony,” Peter interrupts Buckley with a scoff but he keeps talking, “you can call me.”
“Call? Don’t you text?” Peter questioned.
“I don’t really like texting. Too much can get lost in translation.”
“That’s just because you’re doing it wrong. What gifs are you using?” Skyler asked.
“What’s a gif?”
“Oh man, give me your phone.” Peter laughed. They spent the next half hour teaching Bucky how to get the most out of his phone, downloading all sorts of apps, and adding Peter’s number to Bucky’s depressingly short contact list.
“Alright, alright, that enough bullying me.” Bucky complained as Skyler and Peter laughed at Bucky’s confusion over SnapChat filters. “You feel ready to go out there and eat some dinner?”
Peter’s smile instantly fell, “Can’t we just stay here? I don’t really want to deal with everybody looking at me like I’m made of glass, or some kind of freak that’s gonna have another meltdown.”
“They won’t. They’ll be worried about you, but that’s only because they all understand how difficult panic attacks are. Everyone out there has had their own experiences with PTSD. They won’t treat you like a baby, and they certainly won’t think you are a freak.”
“I don’t have PTSD. I’ve never been in a war or anything.”
“PTSD isn’t just something that effects people in the military, that’s a huge misconception. It effects anyone whose been through a traumatic experience.”
Peter turned that over in his mind. He’s certainly been through plenty of traumatic experiences. PTSD. It felt somehow reassuring to have a word to describe what he was going through. He felt… validated.
“Okay, let’s do this.