Tony's POV
The kid fell asleep once I put him on the table. I waited a few minutes, tried to analyze what just happened, and found myself stumped. I woke him up after Bruce had arrived.
"Friday, can you connect to the wires I have hooked up to Peter and diagnose him?" I said.
Friday asked Pete a few questions before she got her answer.
"Diagnosis is: PTSD, short for Post Traymatic Stress Disorder. He had a flashback from the night he found his Aunt." Friday said.
I looked at Peter with sad eyes. I never noticed how thin he had gotten, how his skin turned pale and his eye bags grew. Where was the kid with rosy cheeks and bright eyes?
"After what Peter had explained to us," Bruce started. "That sounds about right to me."
"S-So what do we do? I don't want to be like this forever." Peter asked, worried.
Bruce sat in thought for a moment.
"Well, therapy and medication is suggested. I could set him up with a good therapist."
"I thought you had a major in psychology?" I retorted in confusion.
"No, but I do have one in physiology, though I think a therapist would know much more about what's going on with Pete. I'll go make a call and set up an appointment."
Bruce left, pulling out his phone and dialing it as he walked out. I sat next to Peter on the table, disconnecting wires from him.
"Are...are you okay, Peter?"
I asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He said.
I took off my sunglasses and stared him dead in the face.
"Peter."
He looked away.
"Are. You. Okay?"
He sighed. Turned away for a moment. I thought I was never gonna get an answer. Then he turned to me, with a red face, teary eyes and a sad look on his face.
"No, Tony. I-I'm not and I don't know what to do. I'm scared, sad, and alone. I just don't see the point in anything anymore." The tears started pouring from his eyes. But he didn't blink, he just looked down.
"Kid, I wish I had all the answers for you. But if it makes you feel any better, everyone in this tower has felt loss. Maybe not to your extent, but we have been where you are. You are a genius kid with a heart too pure for this ugly world, and it's unfair that you had to go through what you did. But you have to fight. You have to get back up after you fall."
I was proud of my speech, but contained my pride.
Then I was caught off guard.
"Why?" Peter asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you have to keep fighting? To keep you guys happy? Isn't it kind of selfish to keep someone alive when they would be happier dead? I'm miserable. I don't think I can do this for much longer."
Peter stood up, and I followed him to the elevator.
"I honestly cannot answer your question, Peter, but think about how absolutely devastated everyone would be if you were gone. If you died, and I couldn't stop it, I would forever blame myself." The elevator stopped and we headed towards his room.
"If I'm being honest- I've lost all hope. All emotion. I'm numb all the time, either numb or sad. This isn't living Tony. I'm not saying I'm going to kill myself, but if I just happen to die for some reason, I don't think it would be all that bad." He was about to shut his room door on me until I put my hand in front of it.
"Peter, listen to yourself. This is dark and unlike you. I'm worried." I was hoping, that he just might switch back to his old self, or maybe I'd wake up and this would all be a nightmare. But he didn't change and this is real.
"Sorry, I guess? I'm gonna get some sleep." Peter said.
"Okay, but just for your safety- please don't shut your door. I wanna make sure you don't do anything to hurt yourself okay?"
Peter sighed.
"Fine."
He crawled into bed and fell asleep. I walked away and sat on the couch with Bruce. He was about to say something, but I just put my hand up, not wanting to hear it.
I sat there for a while, thinking, reminiscing. He has fought so many battles, he has had so many dangerous enemies, and yet my kids' biggest threat right now could be...
...himself.