Chapter 11: How could I be so weak?
Harley's POV:
I came in and out of consciousness, disoriented each time as I struggled to understand where I was and what was going on. I would only last mere minutes, though, before blessed sleep would overcome me. I wanted to stay sleeping forever. I never wanted to wake up, because waking up would mean I'd have to face what happened. I'd have to face how weak I'd been.
How could I ever have thought that I could be any type of hero when I'd fallen apart so easily under Stane's torture? How could I have any pride in myself when the second I'd awoken I'd flipped out on everyone and then burst into tears like a hysterical little kid?
Voices surrounded me, and slowly they began to filter through my muddled thoughts. Tony. Pepper. May. Peter.
Peter!
My eyes flashed opened and I sat up, eyes seeking out Peter. Was he okay? I heard my name being called, but my eyes were firmly on the teen, assessing him for any injuries. He returned my gaze with deeply concerned eyes.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Pepper questioned, sitting herself next to me.
"I'm fine," I mumbled distractedly before then looking at Tony.
"Is he dead?" I asked outright, unsure of whether I wanted him to be or not.
Tony's brow furrowed in concern, his lips pursing momentarily before he gave a slow nod. "Blew himself up and tried to take us with him."
I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding in and just nodded in response. I felt relieved more than anything. Relieved that he'd never be able to hurt me again. I'd like to say I felt righteous anger or something brave like that, but it was the coward in me that spoke when I said, "Good."
I flinched when I felt a hand settle lightly on my shoulder, head snapping towards Pepper who was looking at me with eyes full of worry. Her hand hovered awkwardly in the air before she settled it down in her lap.
"How do you feel?" Pepper inquired, and I looked down at my arms and hands, shocked to see not a single stitch or scar. Stane had cut me all over my body and I didn't have a single mark on me. Flinging my blanket off my lower torso, I looked over my legs, again shocked to see no signs of torture. I knew the Avengers had access to good medicine, but still…
"You don't have any," Tony stated, interrupting my thoughts, and I gave him a blank look.
"Scars," he expanded. "You don't have any. We put you in the Cradle –do you remember me telling you about that?" He fell silent for a few moments, probably waiting for me to respond, but I didn't. Instead, I looked around the room, noticing that everyone else had left.
"Are you in pain?" Tony now asked, and I shook my head.
"I'm fine," I answered dully.
"Was anyone besides me hurt?" I questioned, and he let out a soft sigh as he shook his head negatively.
"No," he replied. "There was some minor stuff, but you took the brunt of the damage, bud."
"Gotta come out on top," I remarked with a humorless chuckle.
"Nothing about the state you were in was funny to me," Tony asserted, his tone strained.
I winced internally, head hanging as guilt gnawed at me. I was such a failure.
"I'm sorry," I apologized in a near whisper. "I should have"—I began, but was cut off by a harsh, "Don't!" from Tony.
I stared at him with startled eyes, but he said nothing, only closing his eyes and looking anywhere but at me. I only felt guiltier at that, so I looked back down at my sheets.
Why was I so pathetically weak?
I felt the bed sink as Tony sat himself down next to me. Without a word he wrapped his left arm around me and pulled me closer to him. I tensed and attempted to pull away, but he tightened his grip and leaned his head into mine.
"Just relax, bud," he spoke softly, beginning to knead my head gently with his hand. "Just relax and listen."
I stopped struggling, but mostly due to fatigue than having given up. I let out a huff, elbowing the older man when he chuckled lightly.
Tony continued massaging my head, and it felt so good I found my eyes closing of their own volition. I didn't want to sleep.
The gentle massaging continued, and I gave a moan of appreciation even as I complained, "I'm not a dog."
Another chuckle escaped Tony, and I felt the vibrations through his chest.
"Thought you wanted me to listen to you or something, but you're not saying anything," I griped, giving him another elbow into the stomach.
"Just waiting for you to relax, Gizmo," was the response I got, and I grumbled before falling silent and doing as he said. I didn't exactly dislike the feel of his arm around me or his hand massaging my scalp. It felt nice and protective.
Several minutes of silence passed, and I had nearly fallen asleep when Tony began to speak.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he started abruptly, and I jerked out of my sleepy haze to look up at him. I was about to speak, but he shushed me, asking that I simply listen.
"I get what you're thinking, I really do," he spoke, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from speaking. "You think you were weak and a burden. You blame yourself for your own injuries and maybe even Peter's. You're ashamed and guilty, aren't you?"
I pursed my lips, refusing to make eye contact. He'd nailed my feelings on the dot. How did he know what was going through my mind?
Well, so what if he knew?
"Yeah, I figured I was right," Tony continued, pulling me tighter against him. "You are such an idiot!" the mechanic suddenly exclaimed, his previously gentle hand gripping onto my hair tightly as he shook my head side to side.
"Arrgghh, let go, what gives!" I protested loudly as I slapped his hand away. "And, how dare you call me an idiot! You don't know a thing! You weren't there!" I snarled, suddenly feeling defensive and overly emotional.
Tony pulled away enough so that he could look me in the eyes, and I found myself stunned into silence by the haunted expression he wore. I had expected amusement, sympathy, irritation, or even guilt, but instead, there was an almost empty look to his eyes. It was painful, and I found myself at a loss for words.
I really was an idiot. Sometimes I forgot who my adoptive father was. He wasn't just Tony Stark, genius mechanic extraordinaire, but he was also Iron Man, a super-hero. I mean, there was a reason he'd gotten so pissed when I'd tried to weaponize my Iron Man suit. Tony didn't want me to be a super-hero. He didn't want me to be a part of this life, because he was well aware of the downside of the job.
"Sorry," I whispered after I'd regained my voice, cheeks reddening in embarrassment from having sounded like such a child.
Tony waved away my apology dismissively before facing me full on.
"I know what it's like to feel weak and useless—to feel guilty for needing to be saved, for others getting hurt, or worse, killed," Tony told me, his voice serious, yet soft.
"I was weak," I choked out, giving my guardian a desperate look. "I wasn't able to help at all, and if I could've, I would have begged for the torture to stop! I was utterly useless and a burden to Peter. I told him to get out without me, but he refused." I gritted my teeth as I recalled Peter's refusal to leave me. I'd held him back. He could've been hurt more because he'd been worried about me.
"I hate being so goddamn weak!" I hissed, gripping my hair tightly with both hands.
"Yeah, I hear you," I heard Tony respond compassionately, one of his large, calloused hands gently grabbing hold of mine.
I unclenched my fists and looked at him with tired yet determined eyes. "Will you train me to be the next Iron Man?" I pressed out of the blue.
There was a slight widening of Tony's eyes, but no emotion before he asked back, "Why?"
My eyebrows rose in surprise, honestly having expected him to outright tell me no.
"I want to be strong," I replied immediately. "I don't want anyone to ever be hurt because of me again whether because of who I am or because I wasn't able to save them. I see you, Peter, and the other Avengers go out and risk your lives all the time to help people, and I want to do the same."
"What if I said no? What would you do?" was Tony's next question, his eyes still not giving away what he was feeling or thinking.
"I-I…," I struggled to come up with what to say. What would I do? Would I defy Tony? No…maybe?
"I don't know," I eventually admitted honestly before adding, "but I can't promise you that I won't try and do something on my own. You've said before that I'm like you, so how would you respond in my situation?"
Tony's eyes closed as he let out a long breath, and when he opened them again, I finally saw some emotion. Sadness. That hurt, but there was also a second emotion that bolstered me: pride.
"I swear, if I wasn't still living one would think you were my reincarnation," the older man sighed heavily. "Alright," he gave in, and I was about to let out an exclamation of joy before his stern gaze stopped me.
"Before you celebrate," he quickly stated, "there are some conditions you're going to need to agree to. If you can't, I will find a way to stop you no matter how hard you try to defy me."
His eyes and expression were dead serious, and I had no doubt that he would be able to stop me. He was Tony Stark, after all.
I nodded to show acknowledgement of his words.
"The most important of my conditions is that you wait," he began, and my eyebrows rose before I frowned.
I asked the obvious question. "How long?"
"Until you've both graduated college and turned 25," he informed me, which caused my mouth to open in shock. Until I was 25?! He must be joking! That was ten whole years from now!
"I also want you to work with Pepper once you turn 21 for at least a year so that you can learn what it is to be CEO of Stark Industries," he continued. "It is my intention to have you succeed Pepper as CEO when she retires even if you take over the mantle of Iron Man. That will be your choice, however. If you didn't want to be CEO after that year, you could work whatever position in the company you wanted, or work wherever you want."
I felt even more shock, not at his condition so much as that he actually intended for me to be CEO of Stark Industries. I know the media had speculated this, but I honestly hadn't given it much thought.
"You'd really want me to take over your company?" I questioned in bewilderment. "Not someone more qualified or-or…," I trailed off with a bewildered shrug.
Tony actually snorted in amusement at my question, his serious expression turning into one of fond exasperation as he looked at me. "I would love for you to take over my company, and with some training, I definitely think you're more than qualified."
I couldn't keep a smile off my face as the gravity of his words hit me. He wanted me, Harley, the nobody, to run his company! I was deeply touched and flattered, so I immediately burst out, "I'd love to be CEO! I just can't believe you'd choose me!"
Tony's responding smile was full of affection as he flicked me in the forehead. "You're an idiot genius," he commented, and I immediately snapped back, "Takes one to know one."
He laughed before shrugging. "True."
"Anyhow," the genius continued more seriously, "those are my conditions for you if you want to take over Iron Man. College degree, work with Pepper for at least a year, and turn 25," he listed off. "Fulfill those and I'll make sure you're trained both physically and mentally for the life of a super-hero. You'll learn more about the Iron Man suit than you already know, so when the time comes you'll be ready to take over for me. Lord knows I can't do this forever. What do you say? Do we have an agreement?"
"Why wait until I'm 25?" I had to argue. "I'll agree to the degree, but why can't I just start once I have it?"
Tony looked at me with a bland look that basically said, 'do you think I'm stupid?'
"Harls," he replied, "I don't want you to be Iron Man. I want you to live a normal, happy life. I want to spare you the pain and trauma that comes with the hero life, but I can see your mind is made up. This is why I want you to try and live a normal life for at least a little while. I want you to see what kind of life you could lead and even the good you could do without becoming Iron Man. Stark Industries is an international company and you could change the world in so many more ways than by putting on a metal suit."
"Yet, that hasn't stopped you," I had to interject logically, and Tony gave a humorless grin before nodding once in acknowledgment.
"Which is why I'm offering you this deal," he told me. "A non-negotiable deal," he added, and the look in his eyes told me he was dead serious. There would be no negotiating his conditions. If I wanted to be the next Iron Man, then I would have to agree. I supposed ten years wasn't too long to ask if it meant I'd spend some of that time being trained.
"Okay, I agree," I declared.
Tony smiled, holding out a hand to shake mine, and while I shook his, it didn't escape my notice that his smile didn't reach his eyes. He really didn't want me doing this, but I couldn't let his concern for me stop me.
"Right, so now that you've agreed I don't want you bugging me all the time about training, nor do I want you putting yourself in danger needlessly prior to you taking over Iron Man. Understood?"
"I understand," I responded, excitement and satisfaction filling me.
Never again.
Never again would I be weak.
Never again would I be helpless.
I would be the protector. I would be the hero, and I would never let someone I loved be harmed again!
It was at this moment that Pepper walked back in, a relieved yet curious look on her face as she took in the scene.
"What are you two shaking hands about?" she asked suspiciously.
"I'm going to be the next Iron Man! Tony made a deal with me!" I expressed joyfully, all the while throwing Tony a wicked smirk as I knew he'd be in trouble with Pepper.
"Crap," Tony muttered before rushing to say, "Not until he's 25 at the earliest! I'll explain later, love, okay?" he outright pleaded with wide eyes.
Pepper's lips were pursed, displeasure seeping out of her pores, but she gave a curt nod of agreement nonetheless. Narrowed eyes softened immediately when they landed on me, and she sat herself next to me effectively squishing me between herself and Tony.
"I'm so glad you're doing better," she told me, wrapping her arms around me. I leaned into her hug, appreciating the comfort that only a mother could provide. I only allowed the hug to last for a few seconds, though, breaking apart as my teenage pride took over.
A doctor walked in at this point, introducing herself as Dr. Helen Cho. She looked me over asking how I was feeling and if I was in any pain before giving me a brief explanation of what my injuries had been. She didn't go into detail, but I didn't ask either. I'd been the one to suffer them, and I didn't really care to rehash every injury.
Next, she explained how I'd come to be healed so quickly and thoroughly by an invention of hers called a Cradle.
"That's why I don't have any scars or even feel sore," I remarked to which she nodded.
"Correct," she answered before asking me if I had any questions.
I shook my head, and she then let me know that she'd like to observe me for one more night before leaving.
Peter and May appeared not long after Dr. Cho left bringing with them hamburgers and shakes. The adults sat at the small table while Peter situated himself on the bed with me. We both ate silently, Peter easily eating three times as much as me. When we finished, we both stared at each other, managing to express concern and gratitude with our eyes.
"You were pretty awesome," I congratulated genuinely, and he raised an eyebrow before shaking his head and seriously responding, "No, I wasn't. I just sat there as you were tortured. For a hero, I was pretty useless, and I'm so sorry. I should've been able to help you. I should've been the one tortured."
My brow furrowed at his words, his comment about being useless hitting close to home as it was exactly what I felt.
"Funny you say that," I replied, "because I pretty much felt the same way. Not to mention, I felt like a burden. You couldn't escape because you were too worried about me."
Peter frowned, once more shaking his head. "I'm Spider man, though," he nearly hissed. "It's my job to save"—
"I didn't need you to save me," I interjected, my tone coming out harsher than intended, causing the kind-hearted teen to flinch. Flicking my eyes to the adults to see that they weren't listening, I took in a calming breath before speaking.
"Sorry," I apologized, "but I get that you're Spider-man, but you're also still a kid. You're not invincible, and you were put in a bad situation. Yeah, being tortured sucked, but honestly, I'm glad it was me rather than you. You're both stronger and faster than me, so if it'd come to us having to plan our own escape, it would've benefitted us both if you were in better health."
"Yeah, but…I just wish I could've helped you," he murmured sadly.
I gave him a light kick with my foot, and gave him an appreciative smile as I said, "I get how you feel, man, because I felt the same way. Hell, I still do."
Looking outraged, Peter quickly retorted, "That's ridiculous! You have nothing to be sorry about or feel ashamed about. You were so brave, more so than I probably could've been. You didn't see how bad you were, but you didn't even complain. You don't need to feel bad about anything."
"Neither do you," I argued just as firmly.
We stared each other down, both determined to make the other see reason.
"You boys aren't fighting are you?" a voice interrupted, and we both turned to see Tony staring at us with both worry and disapproval.
"Staring contest, which you just ruined, so thanks," I replied flippantly before turning back to Peter. He gave a sheepish smile before looking down.
"I guess we both feel guilty and inadequate," he remarked, and I quirked my lips into a half smile.
"Guess so," I agreed blandly.
"Well, at least let me thank you for helping me out in the fight," Peter then stated, and I frowned deeply.
"Dude, we got kidnapped, so no thanks necessary as I wasn't much help," I asserted with a roll of my eyes.
Peter's face was kind and genuine as he replied, "True, but I'm glad I wasn't alone. Having you there during the battle and kidnapping gave me confidence. Not that I'm glad you went through all that, but this was my first kidnapping and all, and it helped not being alone." The young hero shrugged, looking embarrassed by his admission.
I was rather dumbfounded by his words, so I only managed to stare. He was glad I was with him? I gave him confidence? Noticing his reddening face, I quickly shot the embarrassed teen a reassuring smile.
"Ditto," was all I said, echoing the same sentiment. Peter's shoulders seemed to sag with relief that I wasn't making fun while a big grin split on his face.
"Besides," I added with a sniff, "we're practically brothers, so we've gotta have each other's backs, right?"
Peter's answering expression was priceless as his eyes widened dramatically and his mouth dropped open. "Brothers?" he barely whispered, and I swore his eyes were shining.
"That's what I said, isn't it?" I asked rhetorically, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with all the sappiness. I hoped he wouldn't make a big deal about this.
The spider kid stared for a few moments longer before he gave me a larger smile than I thought possible as he nodded his head. "Yeah, brothers have each other's backs," he repeated, and I felt a warmth spread in me at how touched he seemed to be. I meant what I said, but I had no idea my words would affect him so much.
Our conversation lightened considerably after this, and Peter entertained me with tales of his spider-man escapades while I slowly began to nod off. I'd only been up a few hours, but I was exhausted. I eventually fell asleep, feeling rather content as I listened to my new family quietly converse with one another.
Tony's POV
I threw up into the toilet, doing my best to keep quiet enough not to wake up Harley and Pepper. This was my third night that I'd ended up in this same position, and I was already over it. Flushing the toilet, I walked over to the sink, grimacing at my pale, sweaty face. I looked downright sickly. Turning the faucet on, I vigorously rubbed my face, both cleaning off the sweat and adding some color to my cheeks.
Ever since Harley and Peter had been rescued my dreams had been plagued with nightmarish visions of them: bloodied, scared, screaming, and dying. Harley figured prominently because he'd looked near death when we'd found him. I gagged into the sink as I recalled his screams of pain and his blood-soaked clothes.
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He never should've had to suffer through something like that. He'd already suffered enough!
Life wasn't fair, I knew that, but sometimes it seemed as certain people got more than their share, like Harley and Peter.
I couldn't protect them. I was Tony freaking Stark, one of the most powerful men in the world, and I couldn't protect the kids I considered to be my sons.
I more than empathized with Harley's feelings of uselessness, which was why I'd given in to his desire to be Iron Man. I truly hoped, though, that by the time he was 25 he'd choose to give up that desire, realizing that he could be a hero without flying around a suit of armor and fighting bad guys. He didn't need to risk his life like I did, and Peter did.
If I could convince Peter to give up the hero business I would, but I knew his heart was all in. Spider-man defined him as Iron Man defined me. Luckily, Harley didn't already have a hero persona. Unluckily, however, he was adopted by Iron Man.
So goddamn unfair.
I let out a heavy sigh and silently made my way back into the hospital room, eyes softening as I looked upon the sleeping forms of my fiancé and son. Harley had had a nightmare about an hour ago, finally falling asleep in Pepper's arms. I was happy that he'd allowed her to comfort him tonight because I knew as soon as he gained some semblance of control he'd go back to holding everything in. I couldn't allow that to happen.
But, how could I get him to open up? I doubted I could get him to talk to me as I'd already been unsuccessful in getting him to talk about the two months prior to his living with me.
I needed to get him into therapy. I could force him to go, but I wouldn't be able to force him to talk. I could only hope the therapist I chose would be experienced enough to eventually get him to open up.
I should get Peter into therapy as well. He may have fared better in the kidnapping, but I knew he felt a lot of guilt over being unable to protect Harley. The longer he was a hero, though, the more guilt he'd end up facing. One day he would fail at saving someone, and while I hoped that would never happen, it was inevitable in our line of work.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache. I'd be getting no more sleep tonight. Groaning softly, I settled down into an uncomfortable chair and kept a watchful eye on my small family.