A Bird Without Wings (Discontinued)

Can you hear me (talking to you)

Every day, without fail, Tony visited the orphanage.

It had been that way for three years, since he had been wandering the streets of New York in a daze on the anniversary of his parents death.

He wasn't drunk, contrary to popular belief, but in a haze of grief.

An older woman found him leaning against a building by the side of the road, eyes wet, but face dry and closed off.

She had gotten the story out of him, and let him finally break down against her shoulder.

Then she pulled him to his feet, putting her arm around his shoulders, and leading him inside. 

He couldn't find it in himself to care where he was.

But it was warm.

Cozy.

The lights were out, with only candles flickering, and casting shadows on the walls.

Christmas carols filtered tinnily through the air, mingling with the sound of flames crackling, and people talking in hushed voices.

Men and women of all ages, sitting on couches and armchairs around the large room, all holding children, from newborns to toddlers.

Tony turned to the older woman. "What-?"

She smiled sweetly. "My name is Gloria, but everyone calls me Nonna. Welcome to my children's home. People volunteer here to take care of my kiddos whenever they want to. Feed them, play with them. Sometimes just hold them. Might do you some good. I've got a little boy over here, his name is Harley. Why don't you sit down, dear?"

He followed dumbly, eyeing the sleepy baby as she showed him how to hold his arms, then let him cradle the tiny body.

"Hey Harley," he whispered. "I'm Tony."

Now, three years later, he was a regular.

He went, according to his official schedule, once a week.

In reality, it was every day.

Harley had been adopted by a married couple in Tennessee, and the toddler had cried when he hugged Tony for the last time.

Things were getting worse with the company.

Not the actual company, per se, but the way Obadiah wanted to run it.

Pepper, bless her, was at her wits end these days, and Tony didn't blame her.

He couldn't stand himself either.

"We've got a new little man here today," Gloria whispered lightly. "His name is Peter. He can't talk yet, but he knows a bit of sign language. He's deaf. Let's go see him, hm?"

"How old?"

"Four."

The instant he laid eyes on the tiny boy, he felt something in his heart lurch.

He was so tiny.

Sitting curled on one of the big couches that completely dwarfed him.

"Hey Pete." He crouched, smiling gently, eyes wet without anyone acknowledging it, except for Gloria, whose eyes twinkled as she smiled knowingly, backing away slowly.

The tiny head didn't lift, eyes intently studying the couch threads.

Tony gently touched Peter's knee, heart falling when the boy flinched away, eyes finally looking up, filled with fear.