Harley to the Rescue
(Stark Tower’s Medbay, Manhattan, New York City)
Harley stared blankly down at Tony’s empty bed, unable to pay Pepper’s consoling words any attention. It all seemed surreal to him; Avengers broken in half, Captain America going against the law, Tony, of all people, standing up in favor of said law, Tony in a coma because said Captain “allegedly” assaulted him, and Tony not waking up unless he’s treated with extremis. Extremis that, according to what Pepper had told him and Spider-man (Peter Parker?) just an hour ago, was going to be just a 50/50 shot at best.
Don’t forget the ‘excruciatingly painful’ part, the very unhelpful part of his brain reminded him.
Tony was moved to another room as soon as everyone had had a few minutes with him… well, with his unresponsive body, at least. Everyone had gone in and out of the room with tear-streaked face (or tear soaked mask, in Spider-man’s case) but Harley, who had opted to take the last turn, was very sure he had depleted his tear reservoir for at least another lifetime or two.
He couldn’t bring himself to cry even if he had tried. And he didn’t. He just stared at Tony, blinking like an owlet, trying to reconcile the pale, Tony-like body lying on the bed, with the impish, sometimes-panic-attacked man that he had come to see as a father. Not that he had ever say it to Tony… in part because he knew how allergic Tony was to anything that involves “emotion”. Mostly, though, it was because he was embarrassed at how easy it was to replace his sorry excuse of an absentee father, with Tony, who had swore to stay, and did so for the 3 years they had known each other.
Harley has never regretted anything as much as the fact that he may have lost his chance at telling Tony how grateful he was to have another shot at the paternal figure things. In hindsight, if Harley had actually said what he’d wanted to say since the day Tony turned up with a table full of Hawaiian Pizza and a new home theater system, custom-made by the Mechanic himself, the worst thing that could’ve happened was Tony breaking out in hives. Proverbial ones, at that. The only thing that would’ve been hurt was Tony’s composure, because Harley knew Tony was too good to hurt his feelings, even if Tony didn’t feel the same way he did. And Tony certainly has been acting in a very father-like fashion to him and his family.
Harley’s brain was already conjuring the images of all the times the Iron Man armor hovered outside his bedroom window because ‘the board meeting was boring, Keenster, now make me a sandwich and show me that science project of yours.’
“You know I’ll just keep telling you to make your own sandwich, right?” He had said.
“Make your own gosh-darn sandwich, dad,” was what he had wanted to say.
Or that time when his family’s bill was paid for the next 6 months, and his mom’s bank account went up a few hundred dollars when she told his sister that she couldn’t come to the parent-teacher meeting because she’s got a double shift.
His sister and mom had said nothing and just hugged the living crap out of Tony the next time he dropped in. Tony’d then claimed that he was covered in hives for 3 days.
Harley just wished he had sucked it up and join the hug.
Or even that one time Tony threatened a Paparazzo for taking a picture of the both of them eating burgers in a hole-in-the-wall diner that Harley liked.
“Leak his face,” Tony’d whispered angrily, while not-so-subtly adjusting his gauntlet-watch, “and you can say bye-bye to your career for the rest of your miserable life.”
Harley had hugged him then. Said thank you, and all. It was beyond awkward, but for the first time in his life, Harley had felt how good it was to be hugged back by your dad.
He shook the thoughts out of his head then. It felt too close to a goodbye, even in his head, and he just… couldn’t. He could not say goodbye to Tony. So he tried to listen to Pepper’s voice instead.
“... is going to be alright, Harley… please believe in him. He would’ve sassed you until you graduate if he sees you like this－”
“Like he’s not sassing me daily already,” Harley said with scratchy voice.
“Oh, sweetheart, thank god you’re back… We were all so worried,” Pepper gushed, eyes all red and puffy. Harley winced at that.
“I didn’t go anywhere Pepper… I’ve been here all day.”
“Well I would’ve been happier if you’d taken a walk or something…. You were sitting here, but your eyes were so empty… we were afraid you’re having a shock, Harley,” she explained kindly.
“I’m sor－hold up. Did you say ‘we’?” Harley balked at the implication.
Pepper didn’t even try to look apologetic. “Yes, Harley. We. I called your mother when you weren’t giving me any response. She’s en route here, ETA an hour and a half.”
Harley jumped from his seat, shocked. “Pepper! Her boss already gave her a warning for missing a double shift the other day! She can’t miss another one!” he insisted.
“I’ve already taken care of that. And your school as well…. This is a one-off, so don’t expect me to cover your school’s absence leave ever again, you hear?”
“I… yeah…. Thanks Pepper,” he said finally, casting one last look at Tony’s still empty bed before getting up.
“Stretching your legs?” Pepper asked hopefully.
“Mhm… hey, where’s everyone?”
Pepper sighed at that. “Rhodey is at his PT, Vision is taking care of some paperwork for the Avengers, Happy is… with Peter.”
Harley couldn’t help but noticed how she’d hesitated on the last part.
“Peter… he’s getting worse isn’t he?” he asked warily.
Pepper’s silence was answer enough. But before Harley could ask more, Happy barged into the room. The man spared a look at Harley’s direction, looking marginally more pleased that he’s now up and about.
“Pep, I think you should’ve called Parker’s aunt instead. He’s got it so bad, you’d think he was in the room with Tony right now,” Happy grumbled.
But Harley couldn’t focus on how unhappy Happy looked. His mind kept on playing Happy’s words on repeat. ‘Like he was in the room. Like he was in the room.’
“What floor is he on? Peter?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer he might get.
Happy looked at him, puzzled, “ 45th, why?”
Harley gulped. If he was right... “He’s got super senses.”
Happy just stared at him confusedly… before exploding in a very creative chain of swear words. Harley had to stop him before he decided to do something stupid like shaking some senses into Peter.
“Let me talk to him,” Harley said calmly.
Happy eyed him skeptically, “No offense, kid… but you weren’t exactly in a better place yourself not an hour ago.”
“I know, right! It’ll be great. Just us, two very depressed teenagers talking about feelings and emotional trauma,” Harley quipped, already leaving the room and walked towards the elevator, ignoring Pepper and Happy’s call.
In his head, he knew that, logically speaking, being a little down about some bully at school was a lot different than being depressed and self-destructive because your mind somehow convinced you that your hero is down and possibly dying because of your fault. Hell, Harley would’ve bet his weekly allowance that Peter was also picked on at school just like him on top of all that.
But still… he couldn’t just leave Peter on his own device like that…. Harley knew first hand how it feels to be drowned by your own brain… and it didn’t help that his brain’s got more imagination than average kids his age. Harley couldn’t just stand idly by and watched Peter self-destruct like that. He might not be able to help save his hero this time… but maybe he could save this new one that Tony seemed to kinda approve.
(Empty Office, 45th Floor of Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York City)
Peter knew that what he was doing wasn’t healthy.
Intellectually, he knew that nothing would’ve been gained from doing what he was doing. He didn’t need to stay there alone (well, Happy had been there with him… but he left, probably got tired of getting ignored by Peter. Everyone got tired of him eventually.)
Peter knew that if he was so inclined, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would update him with Mr. Stark’s… survival. Information regarding the “untested procedure” Mr. Stark was going through was classified, yes, but the A.I. has been cleared by Ms. Potts to divulge to him whether or not Mr. Stark survived whatever treatment it was that he’s undergoing.
Peter did not need to torture himself by sitting there in silence, listening to the screaming and wailing that Mr. Stark made upstairs.
One particularly ragged howl made him flinch then, and it had felt like he was being stabbed. Repeatedly. In the same spot. Peter couldn’t even bring himself to care about how disturbing it was that he knew how it felt like to be stabbed. That one had been difficult to hide from Aunt May.
You don’t get to complain, his brain said. Not when it’s your fault Mr. Stark’s up there in pain.
He wanted to cry, but his own thoughts wouldn’t even give him that mercy.
Your fault! your fault! All Your fault! You got one job and you botched the job! Mr. Stark told you that it was going to be dangerous, but you didn’t listen.!You watched the news, you knew what Captain America had done to those task force officers, but you were too busy fanboying! You got the shield and instead of throwing it away, you wasted time saluting your opponent! You said you were trying to impress Mr. Stark, but look at what you’ve done! No, you don’t deserve any relief. If Mr. Stark is in pain right now, then so should you.
So he stayed. Each of Mr. Stark’s cries of pain a knife to his chest. Peter wondered if it was possible to die of self-hatred.
Peter’s whole frame was trembling now, but he didn’t care. He was too busy running every possible should-haves and could-haves, too busy inculpating himself to care about trivial things like himself. Too busy to notice Harley standing at the door, looking at him silently until he spoke up.
“You know Tony wouldn’t want you to do that to yourself right?”
Peter looked up with a start. Out of all the people staying for Mr. Stark, Harley was the one that he was least expecting to talk to him right now. The younger boy hadn’t talked a lot with him. He mostly kept to himself by Mr. Stark’s bed, holding his hand or just looking blankly at the room’s walls. Judging by how worried Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and Happy were, Peter would say that he wasn’t usually that quiet.
Harley seemed to take Peter’s silence as an encouragement, somehow, because he was now walking closer before sitting down a few feet away from Peter. He appreciated it… Happy had been trying his hardest… but he was clearly forcing himself to not appear too uncomfortable with the physical contact he had been initiating with Peter. Not that Peter himself was comfortable enough with the man for that kind of personal space infringement, either.
But Harley seemed to understand all that without even asking. He just sat there, looked at him carefully, staying silent for a while. It was… nice.
“I mean… I tried that self-deprecating stuff once before…. He didn’t appreciate it. He thinks he’s the only one that’s allowed to hate himself,” the boy shrugged.
Harley had said that with such… familiarity. Peter felt another unknown sting in his chest that didn’t have anything to do with the screaming Mr. Stark still let loose from his locked chamber upstairs.
“You know listening to him wouldn’t actually do anything but making you feel terrible, right?” Harley continued.
“You… you knew?” Peter asked, not sure whether he should be surprised or chastised… which was a weird feeling, considering the boy was at least 3 years younger than him.
“Yeah, sure… I mean… you’re sitting here in a silent office, right underneath Tony’s super secret room, while having super hearing and looking like someone is butchering your puppy and is broadcasting it live on national TV. Not that hard to make the jump,” Harley answered easily, evidently pleased to hear Peter talking, finally.
“I…” Peter started. Only to realize that he really couldn’t explain what he had been doing without sounding… whiny about it.
“If you say something along the lines of ‘It’s all my fault’, I’m gonna have to stop you there,” said Harley. “It’s not your fault. Stop punishing yourself for the mistakes of half a dozen stupid adults. You didn’t smash a vibranium shield through Tony’s chest, Captain America did.”
“If I had just thrown the shield away when I snatched it, there wouldn’t be any shield to smash Mr. Stark’s chest with.”
“What? You’re gonna throw the shield discus style while yelling ‘YEET!’?” Harley deadpanned. Peter couldn’t help but smile a little at that.
The smile quickly sobered up though, and when it did, Peter sighed and averted his eyes. He could see why Mr. Stark’s taken a liking to Harley. He’s smart, and very kind. He could probably match Mr. Stark’s banter toe to toe instead of floundering and stuttering like Peter had done. And most importantly, Harley hadn’t fucked up like he had.
Harley deserved Mr. Stark’s trust and friendship. Peter didn’t. Not then, and certainly not now after he had betrayed the trust that Mr Stark had given him.
As if prompted, Harley looked pointedly at Peter and said, “Stop that.”
Peter flinched. How did he－
“No, I can’t read mind, and if I can I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ask first,” Harley answered, completely contradicting his own statement. “I just have… a lot of practice with… uh… mental health stuff. Got a few issues myself… helped Tony a bit with his, not sure how much of a help I had been though.”
Harley shut his mouth with a snap. Looking a little sheepish. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I babble when I’m stressed.”
Peter surprised himself with a weak laughter. “Yeah, me too,” he agreed quietly before scrunching his eyebrow quizzically. “You… helped Mr. Stark? Did… does he have, like, PTSD or something?”
“Yeah, he does…. I thought he’s gotten better since the Mandarin incident－that’s how we met, I triggered him twice, he was a wreck－anyway, it seems like his PTSD got worse around Ultron… I don’t know what happened, but he was… acting weird. Like… even more paranoid than he had been during Mandarin. Which doesn’t make any sense, It was about 2 years after the portal in New York…. Even if he had relapsed, I don’t think it warrant that level of… I don’t know… fear? He was… he was suddenly so scared of whatever it is that he saw out there. And, well…－” Harley shut his mouth sheepishly again, “I’m babbling again, huh… eh, whatever, you look better already, so….”
Peter blinked at him, suddenly noticing that he wasn’t particularly paying attention to Mr. Stark’s screaming anymore. For one messed-up second he was afraid that Mr. Stark had stopped screaming prematurely because… oh, no there it was. Peter flinched as the painful screaming breached his hearing once again.
“Aw, c’mon… we’ve been doing so good and all…. Tell you what, let’s get outta here. Sounds to me like you already know that all this? What you’ve been doing to yourself? It’s not rational. So let’s just… trust Tony to pull it off, OK?” Harley pouted at him, discarding all the tiptoeing attempt and just cut it to the chase. Once again Peter was pleasantly surprised by how appreciative he was to this 12-years-old boy that seemed to know Mr. Stark really well.
“C’mon, Peter… I can call you Peter, right? My mom’s coming in less than an hour now… if I can bring Spidey with me, my mom would probably not fuss over me too much…. C’mon, Please?” Peter had been told by people (May, mostly) that he’s got a very convincing puppy eye face. But this? The face Harley was making? This was next level.
Peter snorted at that, got up to his feet and offered his hand to Harley. “Want me to bring the mask too?”
Harley’s beaming face was definitely worth the sleeping legs from sitting too long on the floor.
He seems like a good person, Peter thought. No wonder Mr. Stark likes him.
(Dark Corridor, 45th Floor of Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York City)
Happy twitched his mouth in satisfaction as the two boys finally walkout out to the elevator. He’s got to admit, he was a little skeptical about letting Harley took care of Peter. Kid’s only 12, no way in hell was he going to let him waltz in on a very depressed teenaged superhero without supervision.
Well, he can definitely say now that his fear had been largely unfounded. Harley was on a mission, and he succeeded. Happy had been told by Tony (in private) about how proud he was of Harley for literally stopping Tony’s panic attack on it’s track on the phone. Happy had just been largely mystified at how easily Tony admitted that he’s had a panic attack.
The Tony Stark, that didn’t tell any of his closest friends that he was dying of heavy metal poisoning, was proudly and openly telling him, Harold “Happy” Hogan, that he’s got a panic attack in a downright cheerful tone.
All Happy had heard while Tony chattered away was: ‘Look at this kid! He’s so gosh-darn amazing! Took care of me so good, this kid! Damn, I’m so proud of this random kid I met in Tennessee.’
Tony Stark was using his own usually-self-perceived-weakness as a tool to brag about a scrawny kid whose house he broke in to.
But even then, Happy hadn’t been convinced that it wasn’t a fluke. Until a few minutes ago.
Peter Parker had looked positively dead. And Happy had been totally ready to call in his aunt to step in. They were all lucky Harley had stepped in. The kid’s a wonder.
I hope his mom’s going to let that kid here more often, Happy mused as he walked to the elevator to help Vision with his paper works. He could do Tony some good. Maybe open him up a little bit more too… obviously those 2 already care a lot about each other. Huh, wonder if Tony ever thought of Harley as his own…. For all his daddy issues, Tony’s always been a little soft on children, these two even more so than usual.
The elevator dinged, and he heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced his arrival.
“Mr. Hogan, it is good to see you again. May presume young misters Parker and Keener have been properly consoled?” Vision queried politely.
“Yeah, Harley snapped out of it on his own… I think he might be bottling it up. He got Peter to talk too, you know… I think they’re best buds now. And for the last time, Vis… just call me Happy.”
Vision nodded amicably, “I am very pleased to hear that… Happy. I must admit, I was worried to see both of them so… withdrawn.”
Happy was just opening his mouth to agree when F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified them on an incoming call. From one ex-General Thaddeus Ross. Vision shared a quick worried look with him before asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pick it up.
“Stark! I don’t know what game are you playing with your posses, but I swear to god, if you have a hand in their escape－”
“Mr. Ross, good afternoon to you too. I know not of this escape you are talking about, but I assure you, it is very improbable for Mr. Stark to ‘have his hand’ on anything, seeing as he is physically unable to even stay conscious,” Vision answered succinctly, voice hard and cold as steel.
Ross growled, “You and your creator can’t fool me with some ‘poor wittle me’ act, android. You will track down and re-capture my prisoner or else－”
“Your prisoner, Mr. Ross?” Vision cut again, seemingly in no mood to play nice with Ross. “When the proper order has been ratified by the Accords Council, we will review said order, and deliberate on whether or not we will take on the mission. As per protocol.”
“You Dare－”
“I dare, Mr. Ross. Now if you do not posses the appropriate order from the Council, I suggest you restrain yourself from hounding the Avengers, else we might view this as an act of intimidation from the Secretary of State himself, and file our complain through the proper channel. You will not like the paperwork that entails.”
“Testy today, android?” Ross sneered. “Looks like Stark's finally going to bite the dust huh? No wonder you’re so cranky today.”
Oh that did it.
“Don’t count your chickens, Ross,” Happy hissed at him, “Tony’s not going down so fast, not even from some lost fingertips. Good fucking day. End call.”
The room fell silent then, at first, Happy thought it was from the shock of his frankly out of character outburst. He didn’t care. That smarmy bastard dared to mock Tony after he made sure Tony didn’t get the help he needed. Happy would happily blow him of twice over and cussed him a few curses more.
Then it occurred to him just what he had said to Ross in his anger. About Tony.
“Oh, shit,” he whispered.
“Indeed, Happy.”
Happy had never heard the Android using such a conflicted tone.