Decision Making
Twenty minutes later, I’ve explained everything to Mr. Osborn. He’s about as shocked as I expected, which is very. When I mention the attempts on my life, he spends about fifteen of those twenty minutes making sure I’m okay, am I all right, do I have any injuries, etc. I lie and tell him I’m unharmed, which makes things easier. I’m not about to talk about my injuries then show up to a meeting with him with none.
When I hang up the phone, May raises her eyebrows.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing,” she says, holding up a hand.
“It’s Norman Osborn,” I say. “He’s um, helping me find out what happened to…well, you know.”
She straightens. “Like, the Norman Osborn?” She nods slowly. “You sure have a lot of famous friends.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So what was Mr. Stark talking about?” MJ says from beside me. “You know, about your memories giving you a clue.”
“Well…I think he was thinking that if I remember something, it could tell us who did it. Who killed my parents, I mean. Cause I don’t know, I mean, I was like the only one there except for Ben and my parents.”
MJ frowns. “But Peter…you were four.”
“So?”
“So how can you remember something from back then?”
“I don’t know,” I say, voice sharpening. At MJ’s widening eyes, I quickly say, “Sorry. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to remember something from years ago. I mean, it’s not like I can visualize it, right?”
Ned bites his lip, then says, “Maybe you can.”
“What?”
“Remember back before you went to Germany? There was this article about Mr. Stark giving a bunch of college students money for their research.”
“But what does that have to do with—”
“I’m getting to that. Before he gave the money, there was like, this thing he did. He used holograms to make his memories real in front of him. He called it…B.A.R.F.?”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“I dunno!” Ned says, throwing his hands up and grinning. “That’s what he called it. But you should ask him about it.”
I nod slowly, then cross my arms. “Maybe. Yeah. You’re right.”
“Good luck though, okay Peter?” MJ puts her arm around my shoulder.
I give her a smile. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Good.”
-------
The next day, I’m feeling good enough to get off my butt and walk around the compound, at least using crutches. Apparently that stupid explosion broke my left foot. May, Ned, and MJ are all at home, so that leaves me here alone. I’ve just closed the door to my room and am making my way down the hallway when the back of my neck prickles. I turn around and say,
“Hey.”
Mr. Barnes blinks and says, “Damn. It’s hard to sneak up on you.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, um, I’ve got like this…sixth sense thing? Something the spider bite gave me. But um, why did you sneak up on me?”
He sighs. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
He crosses his arms and says, “Do you think it was me?” His tone sounds resigned, like he thinks he knows what I’m going to say. For a second I don’t know what he means, then it hits me. He think he killed my parents.
“No,” I say.
“What?” he says.
“I don’t think you did it. I mean, sure, you’re still on the list. But um, no. I don’t think you…you know.”
“Right.” He nods. “I know I’m not cleared of suspicion, but still. Thank you.”
I smile, and he gives a small one back. “You’re welcome, Mr. Barnes,” I say.
“Oh, you can call me Bucky.”
My smile widens. “Bucky. Cool.” I purse my lips, then say, “Have you seen Mr. Stark?”
He scoffs. “I try to avoid the guy whenever possible. But yeah, I know where he is. He’s in the workshop, tinkering on something. He tends to do that when stressed, or so I’ve heard.”
“Huh,” I say. “Thanks. Hopefully I’ll um, see you around?”
“Sure, kid.”
With that, I turn and limp towards the workshop. In moments I’m there, opening the door with a crutch.
“Mr. Stark?” I call. As I open the door, I blink in surprise. The place is covered with parts of Iron Man suits, with Mr. Stark in the middle, sitting on the floor. He’s bent over a piece of leg armor, tinkering at it, just like Mr. Barnes—Bucky, said. “Mr. Stark?” I say again.
He looks up, jumping slightly.
“Sorry. Did I scare you?”
“No, no,” he says. “Just, shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I’m good,” I say as I enter, pushing a face plate out of the way. “Super healing, remember?”
He nods. “Right.” He swallows thickly and looks back down.
“Mr. Stark, are you okay?”
He nods again. “Yeah, fine.”
“But you only work like this when you’re stressed.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel my face flush. “Sorry.”
He sighs and looks back up at me. Putting the armor plating down, he says, “No, you’re right. Sorry, Pete.” He pats the ground beside him. “Come on, sit.”
I make my way over to him, walking around armor pieces and inward workings until I arrive beside him. Carefully I sit down, putting my crutches behind me. “Yeah?” I ask.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Peter.”
“For what?”
“Kid, you’ve had two attempts on your life. What do you think I’m sorry for?”
I straighten. “But those weren’t your fault.”
“I wasn’t there to protect you. I should have been.” He cradles his left wrist, looking anywhere but at me. My senses pick up on his shaking, and his heavy breathing. I reach out and put my hand on his knee.
“It wasn’t your fault. Really. It was whoever’s doing this. I don’t know who it is, but we’re going to find out. It’ll be fine. I promise.” I give him a smile. He finally looks at me, and releases a long breath. I do too, when I feel his breathing even out. I remove my hand from his knee and cross my arms. “So I had an idea.”
He smirks. “Uh-oh.”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” I say with a grin. “But seriously. I think I know how I can remember what happened.”
He frowns. “Oh?”
“Remember B.A.R.F?”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you gonna be sick?”
“No! No. That hologram tech you used to make your memories appear in front of you. It was called B.A.R.F. right?”
He takes a deep breath, then nods slowly. “Yeah…”
“So can it help me remember?”
He bites his lip. “Yes. It can.”
“So can I use it? Please?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I say. “Why, what’s wrong with me using it?”
“Peter…think about it. I know what I said. I want you to remember what happened. But as soon as I left the room, I realized what I’d suggested. I don’t want to bring up anything…painful.”
“But—”
“Peter, I know how hard it is losing parents. But I wasn’t as young as you were. You’ve lived a life without parents, and for all I know, that’s even harder than what I went through. But I just need to you, if you really want to do this, that you’re going to be okay.”
I nod. “I will be.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Really, really sure.”
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine. Then you’re going to need this.” He rises and walks over to a cabinet, opening it up and pulling out a small box. He walks back over and opens the box. Inside it is a small headset, just big enough to fit around my head. “I’ve updated it a little after my last use of it. Now, it can access memories that you don’t even remember, by going deep into your brain and pulling them out.”
“Ew.”
He chuckles. “Relax, it’s not as gross as it sounds. Now I’m going to ask you again, are you sure?”
I nod. “Yeah. Really sure.”
“Good. Now, let’s clean this up so we can get going.” He gestures around the room.
We spend the next twenty minutes getting everything off the floor, sorting it all and putting it away. As soon as we’re done, I walk back over and hold out my hand.
“So, should I put it on now?”
“Sure.” He takes it out of the box, and puts it over my head. After pressing a button on the side, he walks around the room, pressing buttons that I didn’t even see on the walls.
“What’re you doing?”
“Just turning on the holograms. This should work…” He trails off, then walks back over to me. “All right. Let’s do this.” He claps his hands together.
“But how do I do it? Like, access the memory?”
“All you have to do is think back. Just get the night your parents left in your mind, and B.A.R.F. will take care of the rest.”
“Ok…okay, cool.” I take a deep breath, close my eyes, then open them again. When I do, I gasp.
I’m not in the lab anymore. Instead, I stand in a small foyer of a small house, with a door to my right and a hallway to my left. Directly in front of me, a set of stairs leads off to another floor. I look behind me, and see a living room, complete with a piano, a sofa, and chairs. Turning back around, I look at Mr. Stark. Because thank goodness he’s still here.
“Recognize this?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, voice tiny. “My house.”