I already had this written so...Here'ya go...

This is in Steve's perspective. And written in second person for some reason..? (Don't ask I don't know)


Steve's pov-

You have lost him. The boy had gone out for his nightly patrol like he always did. Throwing on his red and blue and giving a silly little salute before jumping out the window with a flip and swinging into the night. You had watched him go.

Hadn't given it a second thought.

But you should have.

Should have made the kid put in his comm.

Should have asked Peter to stay in for a night.

Should have watched the clock more closely.

But you didn't.

The rain helped drown out all sound, it pounded in your ears, helped make you feel numb. It was late. Later than any sane person should be awake. But you were awake, wide awake, and restless. You had sent the team into pairs to search for Peter. The boy had never come home. He always came home.

Worried. Should be worried.

Helpless. Never be helpless.

Leader. Supposed to be their leader.

Protector. Peter needed to be protected.

Lost. Promised yourself no more soldiers lost.

Tony was getting antsy. You could hear the way his voice was higher than normal, his humor dying down as the search went on. The comms were too silent without his ramble.

Nat was stiff as she moved, her face grim her stance determined. She didn't talk, didn't give comment or make judgments. She only obeyed.

Sam was jittery. His voice hushed and fast over the comm. His flying patterns no longer graceful. The night was starting to wear on him. You could see the sorrow in his eyes.

Clint was angry. Seething in quiet anticipation as he searched almost robotically. He didn't kid around or make jokes. Barely even talked. It was unnerving.

Thor was stone. His face no longer looking of your friend's, but of a warrior; a warrior who had fought many battles and lost companions.

You had all lost.

You all knew what that felt like.

It left you hollow and numb.

It hurt like hell, made you ache.

You do not plan on feeling that way again.

The night was cold. But it was no colder than what you felt inside, your veins are ice, your blood freezing as it runs with adrenaline and fear. Your jaw is clenched, your voice steady, your shoulders squared, your orders not to be questioned. It seemed as if nothing is affecting you. But it is.

Too slow.

Too late.

Too complacent.

Too stupid.

Too naive.

There were signs of a battle. Scratch marks, and white webbing leaving a trail of wreckage. Splintered wood and overturned cars. Signs of a fight soon turned into ones of a struggle. Shreds of red and blue spandex left in puddles out in the night's rain.

Deep breath.

Collect your mind.

Think things through.

Never assume.

Keep your head on straight.

The trail led you to a collapsing apartment building on the outskirts of New York. Red brick crumbled under the pounding rain, mold and weeds growing on the old dusty walls. Choked off cries, and gurgled anguish could be heard from deep within the building.

Run.

Don't think.

Move.

No time to think.

Find him.

Clint shoots the syrupy substance covering Peter before you can even voice an order. Your mouth feels dry, a lump forming in your throat, your mind fuzzy. The creature withers and shrieks, its shouts scraping against your brain.

Too late. You were too late.

Violated. The creature has already violated Peter.

Not quick enough. You weren't fast enough.

He's hurt. Peter was beaten.

Broken promises. You didn't save him.

You force your legs forward. Make yourself push past your emotions and walk towards the shivering boy. This isn't about you. This isn't about how you feel. This is about Peter.

He isn't looking at you, his brown scared eyes are locked on the thrashing black creature, the same one that Clint is beating to the other side of the room in a fit of rage. You place a gentle hand on the teen's shoulder.

But the teen gives a choked off cry and stumbled away. His eyes are blown wide as they finally settle on you. It takes him a moment to realize who you are. You crouch down trying to look less intimidating. The monster is still screaming in the background, Tony and Natasha just arrived, they are screaming too.

Stay steady.

Stay calm.

Stay strong.

Stay collected.

Stay solid.

Peter is shuddering where he sits, wheezing sobs passing through his bloodied lips. He must be cold, his suit is ruined, soiled. You start to speak softly, murmuring soft sweet-nothings and false reassurances. But he doesn't seem to hear you, his chest still heaving to catch his breath.

Shock. He's in shock.

You have dealt with shock victims before.

Traumatized. He has been traumatized.

You have seen many people traumatized.

But never should that someone be this young.

The teen unexpectedly tips into you. Pressing roughly to your chest and grabbing at the fabric of your suit. His cries of anguish make something in your chest give. It's on fire, you are burning from the inside out because-

You didn't save him.

You let him down.

You broke your promise.

You didn't protect him.

You failed Peter.

You hold tightly to the boy, not just for him, but for you too. You don't want to let go, you almost lost him today. You let him cry into your chest, let him pull you closer. Even though you couldn't possibly be pressed further against him. You understand, you want to give him that comfort you know he desperately needs. It's the least you can do for the boy. You rub a hand over his messy brown hair, still whispering soft comforting things. You're still not sure if he hears them.

Peter is cold. His flesh pale and shivering.

Peter is bleeding. Coppery-red spilling from him.

Peter is still crying. You hate it when he cries.

Peter is so young. Just a teenager.

Peter is your responsibility. You don't take that lightly.


I hope you all liked it. I'm not sure why it's in second person...But that's what my brain said to do...So whatever.

Fernandidilly-yo out. ;P