Until we meet again
“Incoming!”
Peter ran around the couch, jumping onto it and standing on the back, almost losing his balance and falling over the side but Bucky grabbed his hand to help him gain his balance. “Bucky! Catch me!”
Peter jumped into Bucky's arms, laughing as he did so. “Thanks!” He was placed on his feet and held onto the red and gold cape tied around his neck. “I’m a superhero!” As he ran, the cape flew out behind him, making him feel like he was going super fast.
“Slow down, baby bear. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Steve warned him, preventing the boy from experimenting with what his young body was capable of. “How about you come sit with me and we’ll go outside?”
The nine year old huffed. “Daddy. I’m playing. I’m a superhero.”
“Be careful. Don’t run.”
Peter didn’t listen. He began running down the hallway of the house, grinning from ear to ear as he did so. The cape was blowing behind him, making him feel like he was a real superhero. “Daddy! Watch me!”
Steve finished making lunch and set the plate of grilled cheese on the table along with some chicken noodle soup. “I’m watching but it’s lunch time now, little bear. Come sit down.”
Peter shook his head. He was hungry but he didn’t want to stop playing. “No.”
The nine year old ran over to the playroom and dumped his bucket of toys on the floor, throwing them all around the room. “I’m playing and you can’t stop me.”
Steve made his way over to the playroom and looked around at the mess. He wanted it cleaned up but if Peter didn’t want to clean it up, he wasn’t going to force it. “Peter, I’m telling you it’s time for lunch so put away your toys.”
“Never! You can’t make me.” Peter looked up at Steve and dumped his legos all over the floor, daring Steve to tell him no again.
“Fine. Would you like to eat your lunch and play at the same time?” Peter grinned, nodding happily. “Alright. I’ll go get it.”
Peter smiled proudly to himself. He won and he didn’t even have to pull out the fake tears. Steve was showing him that if he cried enough or put up enough of a fight, he would give in. Peter liked that.
He ate his grilled cheese, not even bothering to eat his soup. It was too hot and he didn’t like that.
Bucky sat with him, watching him carefully while also doing some things on his phone that Peter couldn’t care less about. “Eat your soup, Peter. It’s healthy.”
Peter shrugged. He didn’t care. “Eww. It’s yucky. I want chicken nuggets. And I want them to look like a dinosaur.”
“You can’t only eat chicken nuggets. You had those for dinner last night. And the night before.”
Peter stood up and stomped his foot.
He ran out into the living room, followed by Bucky so he sat down on the carpet, an angry pout on his face.
“What happened, little bear? Why is my bear so angry?” Steve cooed, picking the nine year old up and setting him on his knee to brush the long curls out of his face. Peter only shrugged. “Would you like a bottle to make you happy again?”
Peter didn’t want one. “No. I want Dino nuggies. But-but Bucky says I can’t eat them again. I want to, daddy. Pwease.”
“But you have to eat your soup. At least try it.”
“I don’t want to!”
Steve pressed a kiss to his nose. “That’s okay. I’ll make Dino nuggets if that’s what you want. You’re too cute to say no to.” Peter grinned again.
He watched Steve get up and go into the kitchen while he stayed and played with two action fingers on the couch, making them fight each other but the tv caught his attention.
There was a picture of a little boy on the tv who looked like him when he was four. Although the boy looked a bit younger than him. He smiled. “That’s me.”
“What is, bear?” Asked Steve, his back turned to the tv since he wasn’t really paying attention.
Peter saw another picture come up on the tv and his heart sped up a bit he dropped his action figure onto the floor. The picture they were showing on the tv looked exactly like him… but it wasn’t?
He reached for the remote and turned the volume up.
“…the boys parents are once again asking the public if they have any news on the whereabouts of their missing son. Peter Stark went missing from a park when he was three years old. Believed to be kidnapped but there were and are still no leads-”
“Peter!” Steve snapped his head over to the boy watching his missing persons report on the tv so he charged for the remote. “Turn that off!”
Peter’s eyes were glued on the tv.
“His parents are begging for his safe return. The picture to the right is a computer generated age progression picture of what is believed the child would look like today. If anyone has any-”
The tv shut off and Peter was left staring at the reflection in the black screen. He looked exactly like that boy… and they had the same name.
He looked at Steve. “That boy looks like me.”
Steve looked behind him so Peter turned to see Bucky standing there, both sharing the same face of regret.
Peter turned back to Steve but he was walking into the kitchen.
“How much did he see?” Bucky asked, following Steve.
“Too much. Why the hell was the news channel on.” He should have been watching better. Now Peter was going to be asking too many questions. He was going to take care of that. Steve unlocked a cabinet and grabbed a red bag filled with what he was looking for.
He grabbed three pills and crushed them up, adding in an extra one than what he would normally use.
“Zolpidem? Are you sure? That’s strong. You’ll knock him out for awhile.”
Steve narrowed his angry eyes at his best friend. “That’s the point.”
Peter came up to stand behind them. “What’s that white stuff?” He asked, watching Steve crush it up. “Is it pop rocks?”
“It’s time for a nap, Peter. You need to sleep. You don’t feel well.”
“But… daddy. I feel fine. I’m not sick.” He turned back to the tv, pointing at it. “Why did that boy on the tv look like me? Where did he go?”
If only Steve had kept the tv on, Peter would have seen a video of his parents on the tv that would have brought back powerful memories for him.
But he didn’t.
Now he would be drugged.
Steve poured milk into one of Peter’s bottles, dumping the crushed sleeping pills into the bottle and shaking it up. “It’s time for milk.”
Peter shook his head. “No. I don’t want it. I want to play with my friend. It’s Saturday. You said me and Michael can have our play date today!” Peter backed away from Steve, his eyes filling up with tears.
Steve was lying to him again. He hated him.
Steve grabbed Peter’s arm when he tried to run and he hoisted him into his arms, carrying him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them. Peter screamed.
“Noooo! Stop! Help! Help me!” The small nine year old was no match for the larger man but Peter was reaching for Bucky, hoping the man would come to his aid. Although Peter should have known no one would hear his cries.
Steve laid Peter on the bed but Peter used his new position to his advantage and started kicking the man. “Stop! Stop!”
“Shhh, bear. Stop screaming. You’re not feeling well. I’m trying to make you feel better. But you have to let me.”
Peter stopped but he cried harder now. He was so confused and scared.
“I’m gonna put a pull-up on you so you can sleep. Then you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Peter cried, shaking his head. “I don’t want to wear one.”
Steve was already pulling off his pants and underwear, tossing them into the dirty laundry pile. Peter watched him go into his closet and pull a pull-up out of the box so Peter stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing.
He never got a say in anything that was done to him. Never. Steve and Bucky made every single choice for him and he hated it but it was all he knew. He felt fine. Why did he have to sleep.
“You’ll feel better when you wake up. Trust me.” Steve got the pull-up secured onto him then Peter sat up, looking between both men.
“Can…can I go play with my friend?”
“No. Not today. I can’t have you getting any sicker.”
Steve picked up the bottle from the bed and sat down, pulling Peter into his lap and pushed the silicone nipple at his lips. “Drink your milk. It’ll help you feel better.”
There was no point in telling Steve he felt fine because it wasn’t like he would listen to him anyways. So Peter latched on and began drinking, taking comfort in the motions like he’s done so many times before it was basically second nature.
He drank and watched Steve’s face looking at him so he lifted a hand out to touch it then rolled his eyes over to look at Bucky who was blurring in and out of his vision.
Peter unlatched and tried to speak but nothing came out then the bottle was pushed back in his mouth and Peter automatically drank, feeling his body going completely numb and a few moments later he was falling asleep, completely dead to the world.
Steve pulled the bottle from his mouth. He only drank about half and he was already out, maybe he put too many pills… Peter was only nine after all…
He laid him on the bed, placing him on his side. “He’s out. Let’s hope we can convince him it was all just a dream when he wakes up.”
Bucky came over to look at the small boy. “Are you sure you didn’t give him too much? That was a lot…”
Steve stood up from the bed. “He’s fine. I can’t have him remembering what he saw.”
.
.
.
Peter began waking up 27 hours later.
He rolled onto his back and groaned at the pain in his left side and how dry his mouth felt.
He lifted a hand up only it flopped down onto the bed again. Peter tried to sit up but his body didn’t feel like it was working so Peter began crying, not knowing what was happening to himself.
“D…d…addy.” Peter cried and rolled onto his stomach, crying harder.
Steve rushed into the bedroom. “Hi bear. Do you feel better?”
Peter tried to turn his head to look at him but he felt like he couldn’t move so he cried out again. “Mmm… no…”
“Aww, my poor little boy.” Steve sat down on the bed and picked Peter up, holding him on his lap. “You were so sick and you had a bad nightmare. Do you remember it?”
Peter tried to remember. He thought back to what happened before he fell asleep but he couldn’t remember… “Um…”
“Don’t try to think. Just relax. Shh shh.” Steve rocked him back and forth for a bit then he eventually picked him up, grabbed a pull-up from the box and laid Peter back on the bed to change him. “I really do hope you’re feeling better now. You were so sick, Bucky and I were so worried about you.” He explained as he tapped the new one onto him.
Peter just watched, unable to really control his motions.
“You had a dream about… Hmm something about your picture on the tv. It was a scary dream. Don’t worry though, it wasn’t real.”
Peter remembered now. The picture on the tv of… him? But it was just a dream.
It felt so real though. It really felt real.
He wondered why the boy on the tv looked like him but it was just a bad dream. He did feel a bit better knowing that now. He rubbed his eyes then stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking on it.
“Are you hungry? I’m sure you are after that long nap.” Steve lifted the boy up, setting him on his hip and Peter had no other choice but to lay his head on the man’s strong shoulder, unable to hold it up. “You sure do sleep a long time when you’re sick. But I’m so glad you’re feeling better now.”
Peter was glad too. “I hate being sick.” He mumbled around his thumb. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to understand him but Steve did, used to the talking around the thumb.
“I know you do, bear. And that’s why daddy made you feel better with nice milk and a long nap.”
Peter nodded. He was placed down on his booster seat at the table and so he forced his head to stay up and watched Bucky pour him a bottle of milk. Peter didn’t want to go to sleep again though. “No milk.”
“Don’t make daddy sad. You have to drink it.” Steve pouted, making sure the kidnapped boy saw him and took pity on him so he would drink it. Although this one contained just milk, Steve wanted him to take comfort in it so Peter did.
While Bucky was making oatmeal, Peter continued drinking and squeezed between his legs, looking at Steve. “I… I need to pee pee.”
With a nod, Steve sat down next to him. “You can go. It’s alright.”
Peter went to slide off the chair but Steve stopped him.
“No. In your pull-up. You’re not well enough to use the bathroom. Just go here.”
Peter looked at Bucky who was looking at him so he looked down and went, looking back up at Steve to see him smile down at him so Peter offered him a tiny smile back. He just wanted to stop feeling so fuzzy in the head.
He hated being sick.
.
.
.
Tony walked into a hotel room after having not slept for almost two days. He was exhausted both mentally and physically.
He placed the two bottles of tequila on the table and collapsed onto the couch.
Tony had been searching for Peter non stop for almost a month now.
His family was at home, waiting for any updates from him but Tony had nothing to give them so he turned his phone off so he could drink.
He didn’t know if he could do this anymore.
Being at home and living a normal life like he wasn’t missing his son was the most difficult thing he could do. So he left.
Again.
He left his family and went to go actively look for Peter.
He thought about him every single second of every single day but he didn’t look for him as much as he did in the first few years simply because there were no leads and literally nothing to go off of.
But Tony couldn’t sit at home and do nothing.
So he looked for Peter and now he wanted to get drunk to forget it all.
Tony was about half way through one of the bottles when he got up, stumbling into the bedroom to grab his bag where he had a bottle of pills. He grabbed it, poured a bunch into his hand and stumbled back into the living room, placing the pills on the table.
There was a knock at the door and Tony ignored it.
He heard the door then opening and he didn’t have to turn his head to know who it was. He took another sip of his alcohol. “You should go.”
Natasha sat down on the sofa opposite him, taking in the half bottle he already drank and the pills on the table. “I’m good here.”
Tony rolled his eyes and took another sip. They sat in silence for a bit then Tony started crying. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“I can’t live like this anymore.” He cried in front of Natasha before. She’s seen him at rock bottom and perhaps this was going to be the worst she’s seen him yet. “I-I can't keep going like this. I… I can’t go home and walk through that door without him. I-I c-can’t see his pictures on the wall anymore, knowing he doesn’t look like that.”
Tony took another sip. “He’d be nine. Nine. I have a nine year old son.” He laughed. That sounded crazy. Harley was nine when Peter was kidnapped. Now Harley was fifteen and so grown up.
Tony didn’t even remember what it was like to have a nine year old. God, he wanted to experience that again so badly.
“Do you think he’s still alive?”
Natasha wish she knew. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Tony chuckled and shrugged. He had no fucking idea. That thought kept him up every single night. “I don’t know. I… think if he was… being abused… I’d want him to be dead so he could be at peace. But… who fucking knows. Who fucking knows.”
Natasha held her hand out for the glass bottle Tony had so Tony handed it to her, expecting her to take a sip but she put the lid back on. “I think that’s enough. Don’t give up, Tony. He’s out there.”
Tony hated giving up hope. “Then why haven’t I found him? Where the hell is my son?” He opened the other bottle and took a long sip, feeling the liquor burn his throat and stomach. He thought about it a lot. “He was either killed the same day he was kidnapped and his… body was buried somewhere…” Tony felt sick at the thought being said out loud. “Or… he’s in some old fucks basement…” He didn’t know what would be worse.
He took another sip and looked at Natasha. “I don’t want to live a life without him anymore. I… I don’t think I can…”
She leaned forward on the couch, eyeing the pills again. “You have to. What happens if tomorrow we find him, a year from now, five years from now.”
Tony would be able to hold on if he knew for certain he would see his child again. “You don’t know that. He could be dead for all we know. I just…” Tony put the bottle aside and looked at the pills. “I want to stop feeling this way. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t breathe. I can’t even be there for my kids and wife without wanting to lock myself away and just scream.”
Natasha never saw him actually so close to temping suicide before. She’s witnessed him going through a hard time but never like this. She sat on the floor with him.
“Peter is out there. You have to stay alive for him. Even if you don’t feel like living, choose to live for him. Let your heart beat for only him. He’ll need you when you find him.”
Tony picked up a pill and felt it between his fingers. He just wanted to be with Peter. “He’s not alive.” He whispered. He had been feeling that way for some time now but he fought the thought because he refused to give up.
“No. He’s alive, Tony. He’ll need you one day.”
Tony dropped the pill onto the table. “I don’t want to be ninety years old on my deathbed when I find him or-or find out the truth of what happened to my son.” He couldn’t live with this constant ache in his chest anymore.
Doctors suggested he go on antidepressants but he refused because he didn’t want to be put on drugs and accept what he’s feeling.
He just wanted to end it all.
“You won’t be. You have to think of the possibilities of him being out there and coming home to you soon. That won’t happen if you’re dead.”
“You have no fucking idea how fucking hard it is! I go home and I can’t breathe! I can’t look at my kids without feeling so heartbroken and empty because there’s one person missing. I can’t take a family picture without wanting to just…” He shook his head. He just didn’t want to live this life without Peter anymore. He made his decision.
“Let’s say you decide to do this then we get Peter back one month from now and now you leave it to Pepper to explain to him why his dad is dead. Because his dad didn’t want to live without him. Now Peter has to live with that.”
She did have a point but Tony didn’t think they would find Peter a year from now.
The ache in his heart was too much. “I just can’t live this life anymore. It’s too painful.” He went through everyday feeling the same way.
Natasha could feel Tony’s pain. She didn’t have any children and she didn’t know what it was like to lose one but she saw it in Tony’s eyes. She saw pictures of Tony with Peter, he was happy, you could see it. And now it looked like he was an empty shell.
Tony was in pain.
But only Peter could take that pain away.
And she wasn’t Peter.
So nothing she could say would make him feel better.
“Decide to live for Peter. Not for you. Or anyone else. Live for Peter.” She left the pills on the table, wanting Tony to make that decision himself.
He undoubtedly would choose to live for Peter, but it wouldn’t be for six months from that day until he would see Peter again.
Tony picked up the pills and held them in his hand, debating on just swallowing them all and letting it be over quickly so he could meet Peter again.
But he didn’t.
Natasha was right.
Peter could possibly still be out there.
Peter would need him if, when he’s comes back home to Tony.
So Tony stood up and walked into the bedroom, putting the pills in the bottle and handing it to Natasha who didn’t say anything to him. “I know I should be choosing to live for Pepper, Harley and Morgan but I’m not. If Peter is still alive, if there’s even the tiniest chance that I’ll get to see him again, I want to live for that.”
Natasha didn’t say anything.
Tony sat back down on the couch but he accidentally sat down on the remote and the tv turned on, showing a picture of three year old Peter and Tony broke down immediately.
“Oh baby.” He cried into his hands. Another picture came up of an age progression image of what Peter would look like today. Although technically that boy didn’t exist, Tony knew it was Peter. It was so painful to see him smiling into the camera and know that the picture wasn’t real. It wasn’t actually his son.
Tony picked up his bottle of alcohol and threw it at the TV, chattering both the screen and the bottle.