Lives We've Lived

Difficult Relationships

The base was always cold. It was partially because they were underground, partially because they were cheap bastards who refused to install a real heating system.

Tony was being walked down the hall, flanked by two handlers, and raising his hand in the HYDRA salute as he went. He'd just gotten done with a session in the chair so his mind was mushy and confused, but he knew he had to do that. He had to hail HYDRA. Most of his memories were wiped during the chair sessions - he only kept the ones they chose for him. It was impossible to know what was real anymore. To know who he was.

Tony vaguely recognized the hall they were heading down now. It led to the command room for the base, where all the orders for agents in that sector got their missions.

"You think he messed with the mechanics in Department X?" One of the Handlers spoke in quick Russian to the other. Tony furrowed his brows.

"Why do you think we put him back in the chair?" The other responded. "This is about Project Secondary. Boss wants to see how we're progressing."

Oh, so it was Tony who was in trouble. Sometimes, when he had a few weeks between chair sessions, Tony would remember that magnets and wires and batteries and metal alloys could be used to do something other than-

What had Tony been doing down in Department X to begin with? Was he in mechanics there? Then why was he on missions last week taking down targets? Why was-

One of the handlers pushed Tony forward with the butt of his gun. Tony didn't fall forward, but he did allow the Handlers to open the door and nudge him inside. Tony moved as if he was on auto-pilot, finding himself in a dark, leather chair in front of a wide, wood desk.

"Ah, нарушитель спокойствия, how are you feeling today?" (Translation: troublemaker.)

Tony looked up at the man with lazy eyes. He remembered this man - he was the one to give Tony his assignments. This was the man who ordered him into the chair.

"Mushy," Tony replied honestly. The man tutted.

"You are so candid, Mr. Stark, it never fails to amaze me. You are not an easy man to crack, and that is becoming a thorn in my side." Tony held his gaze steadily, refusing to give into this man's intimidation. "Which is why we are moving ahead with Project Secondary."

Tony heard the door creak open again and fought the urge to turn around. His Handlers were back, and this time, they came with medical staff on their tails.

"Take blood," the man behind the desk said as he waved his hand. "Is the incubation tube ready?"

One of the Handlers nodded. "We finished preparations this week. If all goes according to plan, we'll be ready to train him in 6 months."

"6 months? Not 9?" The man's eyes widened a little, looking between the medical staff and the Handlers. Tony tried not to wince as he felt a needle press into the inside of his elbow. "Did you finish the new serum then?"

"We were able to do a test run of the serum and saw positive results in cases where the fetus wasn't killed upon infusion."

"What is the likelihood this fetus survives the infusion?"

Tony was looking between his boss and his Handlers, his brain working double-time to play catch up and put all the pieces together. A baby? But not... Tony felt another needle on his other arm, and this time, he did flinch a little.

"We've examined the donor's DNA extensively, we believe it is similar to that of the Soldier's. Strong, sir. It is very likely the fetus survives both the infusion and the gestational period."

Tony felt someone grab his arm and haul him up. He was back in his cell without even noticing the walk back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tony, please," Peter called, knocking on the door lightly. Tony was on the other side, back against the hard door, hand clasped hard over the lock on the door.

When the billionaire had first come in and locked the door behind him, he'd sworn there was nothing to be done - he was never ever not ever going to unlock the door.

"I... I- I just- listen, when I was- I-" Peter cut himself off with a sharp gasp. "Я понимаю, что они сделали." (Translation: I understand what they did.)

Tony's hand twitched.

"The base was really cold, right? That wasn't just me?"

Tony snorted a little, the tension forcing itself out through Tony's laugh. He unlocked the door and pulled it open before his head could catch up and convince himself not to. Peter fell through the door as if he'd been leaning on it... which he had been.

"So you're Project Secondary." Tony asked, holding Peter up until the teen could regain his balance. It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement. If Peter was Project Secondary, how likely was it that he'd sought out Tony for this exact reason? Did he actually know what that meant, or was he just-

"Yeah. I found out when I broke out of the base," Peter said, running a nervous hand over his arm. "The last thing I did was grab the files on my case, so I at least had somewhere to start when breaking the brain-washing."

"What do you know?" Tony asked.

"I know I was genetically altered using a modified super soldier serum, which is where I got my powers. I know I was created using donor DNA from one of the Agents on base. I know I was trained so when things went wrong with an agent in the field, I could recover them. That's why I could get close to you. I can get close to just about anyone, even when they are aiming to kill."

Peter trailed off with a small chuckle, his shoulders slumping a little. Tony bit his lip.

"You don't know which Agent gave the DNA for your... experiment?"

Peter shook his head. "No, it wasn't in the file. All I have is a serial number, but without the other files or access to the database, I wouldn't know who it was."

Tony hummed a little to himself, not daring himself to say anything more about the subject. "It took me a while to get through my memories and the wiping," Tony said finally, settling on telling his own story. "I didn't grab my files when I left, I just took off on a mission. I was a mechanical engineer for a while working in Department X, and a trained agent for a while. I was too difficult to keep contained, though, so they changed their plans."

Tony's fingers found the hem of his tee-shirt, a nervous tick he'd had since his MIT years. Before HYDRA. Whenever things got too stressful, too much, too dangerous, Tony would finger the hem of his shirt. It was grounding, to be honest.

"What happened?" Peter asked.

Tony didn't say anything, he just got up and went to his closet. Peter waited patiently, watching as Tony came back and and set a worn and old box in front of Peter. It was clearly one of Tony's most beloved possessions, going by the way Tony wrapped careful and protective fingers over the edges.

"This is a box of memories," Tony said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Some good, some bad. All of them painful." Tony dug through the box with care equal to that he'd used when setting the box down. Peter caught some good glances into the box - there was a string of old and faded pearls, a handkerchief, photos, old clothes.

Finally, Tony pulled out a thin chain that Peter recognized immediately. "Is that your agent tag?"

Tony didn't respond, he just pushed the cold metal into Peter's hands.

Peter glanced down.

Anthony Stark
901671554

Peter had to read the number three times before he believed it.

"You... You?" Peter's hands were shaking a little as he looked back up at Tony. "You were the agent?"

Tony nodded once, waiting for Peter to make the next move.

"You're my father?"