A Beautiful Lie

by RayRox360

Head down. Mouth shut. Eyes closed. Only a few of the rules Richard Parker carved into Peter's mind. But none are as important as Rule #1: Don't trust anybody. Yet, things turn complicated after Germany. After Tony Stark. As Tony copes with the effects of Siberia, he'll discover that Peter Parker is a whole new headache for him to deal with, one he'll find he doesn't mind as much.

10. Rule 5 Part l

Chapter 10: Rule 5 Part l

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5) I Will Never Eat Without Permission

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Wednesday - March 30, 2016

Parker Residence- Second Floor

06:12 a.m.

Peter could already feel the bruise forming before he'd even hit the floor, a harsh grunt of pain falling from his lips as he hit the wooden panels with a loud thud.

For a quick millisecond, he just lay there, hands hovering over his throbbing eye as he moaned softly on the ground. But just as quickly as the wave of pain had washed over his face, realization of where he was and who he was with filled his mind, washing out all other concerns.

Quickly he was floundering to gain his bearings once again, scrambling against the floor. He winced as his arm scraped up against the shards of broken glass now littering the floor alongside him, remnants of the orange juice that had once been held inside staining the ground as well. "Serves you right, you little shit!" Flint snarled as he glared down at his now-soaked shirt. "You can't even do this one measly thing right!" He growled, reaching down towards the teen.

Peter couldn't help the small yelp that escaped him as the man hauled him to his feet, gripping the collar of his shirt tightly as he slammed him into the back kitchen wall. Out of the corner of his wide eyes Peter could see Sandra and Curt watching silently, small smirks adorning their faces.

The teen wasn't sure whether they were laughing as his predicament or at the fact that Flint just had a glass of juice spilled all over him. He was willing to bet it was a combination of both.

"You havin' some trouble over there, Flint?" Curt called over, his mouth curling into a sickening grin as his yellowing teeth peeked through his cracked lips.

The big, burly man released one hand to point at the seated figure while his other continued to hold Peter up against the wall. "You shut the fuck up, alright?!" He snapped, eyes blazing as small flecks of sand began to drop from the tip of the man's finger, a sign of how pissed he really was.

Despite the argueably terrifying situation Peter was currently stuck in, the teen couldn't help the small flicker of anger that burned right alongside the usual fear that burned coldly in his heart. He could feel his fists clenching tighter around the man's wrist, willing him to let his go.

They just loved choosing any opportunity to screw with the teen, and if he were being honest with himself, he was really getting fucking sick of it.

"Well maybe next time, you can try getting the orange juice yourself." The words were out before he could remind himself of his place.

Dark eyes swiveled around to stared down at him. Peter blinked in realization and felt his hands clench even tighter around the man's wrist. God, this just had to happen on a school day.

Before he could make another move, a large hand was flying across his face again, the same side as before. Peter grunted as he felt spittle fly from his mouth, his face burning fiercly as he felt himself get thrown to the ground.

"You feel like mouthing off now, huh? Is that what it is, you little shit?!" Flint roared as he slammed the toe of his boot into Peter's side.

The teen groaned in pain as he flopped back down onto the ground, eyes shut tightly as he wrapped his arms around his midsection, hoping to add just the tiniest layer of protection against the man's wrath. God, stupid! You stupid, stupid, idiot! He screamed at himself. Mouth shut! Always keep your mouth shut! Why can't you remember that?! You so deserve this!

The boot came crashing into his side again, his ribs jolting painfully as he gasped.

Now, normally, the teen knew better than to try and escape. Such efforts or any attempt to fight back only made the hits rain down twice as hard. However, the fact that is was 6:15 a.m. on a school day had his eyes flickering over towards his backpack.

Usually, they waited until Friday to wail on him. By the end of the weekend, most of the bruises were already disappearing. But any injuries he'd receive in the mornings were usually still there in the afternoon. Which was why they tried to avoid dealing such blows on weekdays - on schooldays. Usually, they'd at least hit him some place he could cover up.

But seeing how it was Flint, Peter wasn't too surprised that the man seemed to have forgotten such a fact. He'd never really been the brains of the group. Peter was pretty sure his father only kept him around cause he was arguably the strongest out of all the Cons. Plus his stupidity was usually good for a laugh or two. At least to the Cons.

Peter never was one to laugh along with them.

Taking all of this into consideration, Peter was quick to realize that if this continued, there would be too many bruises to explain safely, without suspicion.

The hairs on his neck tingled as he heard Flint rearing back to deliver another swift kick.

Taking only another moment to hesitate, and another to regret his descisions before he'd even made them, Peter rolled out of the way of the kick, his ribs flairing painfully as he quickly skirted by Sandra and Curt and dove for his backpack, which was leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're going, you bastard?!" Flint snarled after him as he began to bound down the stairs, taking two at a time as he leapt off the remaining few and landed on the first floor.

"I'm not finished with you, you hear me?! I'm gonna kick your fucking ass when you get back, you sorry son of a bitch! I swear I'll-"

Peter didn't bother to hear the rest as he slammed the front door behind him.

Great. Well, not he had that to look forward to later.

The teen stole a single glance over his shoulder as he jumped off of the front steps to the house and landed on the sidewalk. Wincing slightly as the movement jarred his bruised ribs, the teen gripped his backpack tightly in one hand as he began to race down the sidewalk.

He either ignored the indignant shouts of the people he passed on the street, or threw them hurried apologies over his shoulder as he sprinted down the block.

He didn't stop.

Not as the subway sign appeared in the distance. Not as he was bounding down the steps of the tunnel. Not when small black dots began to blink before his eyes.

Hmm...should he be concerned about that?

No matter, he didn't stop to think about that either.

He didn't stop until he came to his terminal. Thankfully, his train was already there, so he didn't have to wait long. He could hear the shakiness of his breathing more than he could feel it as he slipped through the doorway of the train, slinking to the very back of the car.

A ragged breath tore through his chest as he plopped down in the questionably-stained chair, fingers clenching into the fabric of his jeans as he fought to gain control over the frantic beating of his heart, which threatened to rip right out of his chest.

He shut his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth as a pounding feeling rocked against his head, the throbbing pain making him want to hurl.

Swallowing down the bile currently rising in his throat, the teen blinked open his eyes and glanced over towards the window by his side. A small involuntary hiss sounded from his teeth as he caught a small glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Glancing back down, the teen reached a shaky hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The cracked screen stared back at him as he tapped the device to life, quickly pulling up the camera as he flipped the lense to capture him.

Peter couldn't help but suck in a strained breath as he caught sight of the damage. His face as already scratched up enough from the previous night's... activities, but at least those had already been fading. At least those had barely been noticeable anymore.

Safe to say that was not the case anymore.

The left side of his face was already beginning to bruise, the tinges of dark purple and blue beginning to seep through the dark red skin, spreading across his cheek and eye like blood soaking through a thin, white towel.

The discoloration stood out like a sore thumb compared to his already pale complexion, though that much he was used to. He was not, however, used to his skin being as pale as it was right then. He tapped the screen of his phone a few times to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning before pulling it closer.

It wasn't a trick of the light. His skin was about two shades paler than usual, taking on a soft sickly color that made the bruises and the dark bags under his eyes stand out even more than usual.

The teen continued to stare down at his reflection before another piercing stab through his head had him sliding his phone back into his pocket with a small groan of pain. He shut his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

He desperately tried to ignore the sharp pangs his stomach continue to ring out, wrapping his arms around his midsection as he focused on breathing. He was starting to lose track of the last time he'd eaten anything.

His father claimed it threw off the testing. Peter knew better.

He knew that having his father say when he could and couldn't eat anything was just another way to control him. If he had to grovel whenever he ever wanted to end the pain in his gut, Richard Parker held so much more power over him.

But he'd known that for years.

Usually, the routine was pretty steady. He'd come home, make dinner and serve his father and the Cons. Most often, his father would tell him to take a plate up to his room while he and the others discussed "business". He didn't complain. He didn't say anything.

Of course, there were the days when the Cons just liked to mess with him. He was beginning to assume it was like a game to them. Just see how miserable you can make the brat. Then again, there were the times he made his father angry with him.

That usually led to a couple hungry days.

For a normal person, such habits could be considered unhealthy. But for someone with a super-charged metabolism that required three times the consumption rate of normal people, such behavior was downright deadly.

Of course, Peter had learned ways to bypass such a rule. Whether it was Mr. Delmar sneaking him a few extra sandwiches from the bodega, Ned packing some stashaway snacks, MJ throwing the occasional apple at the back of his head or hell, sometimes he'd score something from the dumpsters behind some of the 24-hour buffet restaurants that frequented many of the city streets.

More often than not, his go-to guy for making sure he didn't pass out in Chemistry Class was Ned, who would always forcefully shove a sandwich or two into his hands whenever he looked a little peaked. However, Peter knew such a source wasn't going to be available to him for the next couple days.

Safe to say, Ned had been particularly chatty over the last few days. Peter couldn't really blame him. When you find out your best friend is a part-time vigilante, swinging around the city in red and blue spandex while fighting crime, you're sure to come up with a couple questions.

Over the weekend, Peter estimated the boy had sent him over two hundred texts, not to mention they'd Facetimed on Saturday for about an hour. Even after all of that, Ned had promised on Sunday that he'd arrive at school with a bucket-load of new, probing questions.

However, come Monday morning and Peter's phone had been blown with a whole new assortment of texts, only this time, they weren't about Spider-Man. Instead, it was Ned warning him of his impending absence from school for the week, complaining about the stomach bug he'd caught from his little sister.

So...that was out.

Not only that, but for some reason, MJ had been absent on both Monday and Tuesday. Of course, the girl was much more discrete with her details. When he'd texted her, all she'd replied was something about visiting some family upstate before practically threatening him with murder if he didn't study for their upcoming Decathlon meet, promptly ending the conversation.

Option number two was gone.

Add in the fact that his father's trip to Who-Knows-Where had left him in a particularly sore mood - Peter having to pay for such a fact - and you have the perfect recipe for discrete starvation.

In his mind, Peter knew such things probably should have worried him. After all, the subway was highly air-conditioned and yet, he could still feel beads of sweat rolling down his forehead while goosebumps ran up and down his arms underneath his sweater.

He also should have been worried about the fact that his heart still had not stopped beating furiously, despite the fact that he'd been resting for quite a while now. Usually, it took only a minute or two to calm the frantic beating of his heart, but it still felt like it would pop out of his chest at any minute.

He should have been worried. But he wasn't. After all, he didn't even want to eat anymore. Just the thought of food alone had him wanting to hurl.

That should have worried him too.

If he had the energy, Peter would have popped his earbuds in, but just the thought of moving when he didn't have to had the pain in his head increasing by three. So instead, he was content in just feeling the vibrations of the train as it skidded by on the tracks, eyes shut tightly as he counted the seconds tick by. Thankfully, not too many people had boarded that particular car, so it was mostly silent.

After he'd lost track of his counting for the fifth time, Peter decided to stop. Apparently, the train did as well.

Cracking open his eyes, the teen winced at the brightness of the fluorescent lights over head and glanced out the window, watching as the station came into view.

Taking a second to reign himself back in, the teen reached into his pocket to check his phone, wondering if maybe Ned had flashed him a text. As the screen lit up once again, for a fraction of a second, Peter wondered if he'd see a text from his father or one of the Cons.

Years ago, after a particularly nasty beating that left him with a bruise on his forehead, Peter had been heading to school when he'd gotten a text from his father. He could still remember exactly what it'd said.

You were messing around and fell down the stairs.

Understand?

If I get a message from your school about this, we're gonna spend some time in the Dark Room again.

They never texted him again. They didn't have to.

With a small groan, the teen pushed himself off the window, biting his lip as a fresh wave of nausea raced through him, his head spiking painfully. Taking a second to make sure he wasn't about to start dry-heaving, the teen wrapped a shaky hand around the straps of his backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder, slowly stumbling off the train.

His legs moved sluggishly as he trudged up the stairs. He had to look back more than once to make sure there weren't any weights tied to his feet as he moved, the sheer exhaustion of the action making him blink in shock.

Hmm...maybe sprinting all the way to the station wasn't the best idea. He murmured to himself as he stepped off the station stairwell. Any energy reserved he'd been saving had been all but used up in his little master escape.

Whatever, he'd worry about that later. Right now, he had another monster to deal with.

Swallowing the last remnants of bile that had caught in his throat, the teen let out a shaky breath and pushed through the doors of the school. He still had about ten minutes before the first bell rang, but the hallways were already pretty crowded.

Instantly, the noise pierced his skull like an icepick being driven through his ear. He couldn't help the wince that passed through his lips as he pressed one ear against his shoulder, eyes squinting in pain. Clenching his fists, he stood off to the side for a moment as he tried to take control over his breathing once again, struggling to focus on taking nice even breaths as he resisted the urge to puke all over the sophomore currently standing at his locker next to him.

As the initial pain of the noise began to subside, Peter wrapped his arms around himself and ducked his head, slowly beginning to move towards his locker. For once, he was glad Ned and MJ weren't hear. He so did not have the energy to pretend for them today. To lie to them today. To smile through his teeth even though there was nothing to smile about today.

For once, he could just focus on making it through the day in once piece without having to put up a facade for anyone. Nope. Instead he could concentrate on not passing out in Math.

"What's up, Loser?"

Of fucking course.

Remembering at the very last second about his bruise, Peter resisted the urge to spin around to face her as Michelle walked over. Instead, the teen kept his head facing his open locker as he braced his hands against the sides of it. "You better have studied like I told you to otherwise you're gonna get to know the shovel in my backyard very well." The girl muttered as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned up against the lockers beside him.

He ducked his head away as casually as he could manage. "Of course I studied. I always study." He tried to replicate his usual tone. His mouth tasted like ash.

MJ rolled her eyes as she blew at a stray strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. Glaring at the offending piece of hair, the girl stole a small glance over towards the boy, who continued to look anywhere but at her, his long brown curls falling down in front of his face, concealing it in shadow. "I...I didn't think you'd be back...today." He murmured softly.

The girl scoffed. "Glad to know I was missed."

Peter instantly tensed as his grip on his textbooks tightened. He still didn't turn towards her. "I-I...I didn't mean-"

"Relax, Parker. I'm just messin' with you." She scoffed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she noticed the teen's demeanor. Slowly, she uncrossed her arms and dropped them down at her sides, resting on on her hip as she stared at him. "You're being weird. Explain."

His grip tightened as he closed his locker. "Weird? Me...I-I'm not...I don't think..." He was tripping over his words again. That wasn't a good sign. "I'm not being weird."

"Yeah, alright. You're lying isn't getting any better. Maybe you should be studying that." She scoffed, the harsh tone doing well to mask the growing discomfort that was starting to gnaw at her stomach.

"I...I'm not l-lying."

"Mm-hmm...then why won't you look at me?"

Her eyes stayed trailed on the boy as she studied his movements, waiting to see how he'd react. Peter's eyes clenched shut, the steady pounding only growing with each passing second. He really couldn't deal with this right now. He knew MJ was his friend and was most likely just concerned (he thought so at least, it was hard to get a read on her), more than anything, he just wanted her to go away. He wanted everyone to go away.

"Hello? Earth to Peter? You tuning me out?"

Realizing ignoring it would most likely just make it worse, Peter cracked his eyes back open, taking a small steadying breath as he stared down at the cover of his textbook. He barely registered the fact that his heart was still frantically thrumming against his chest. Taking one last minute to prepare himself for the inevitable reaction, the teen steeled himself and looked up.

Michelle froze as her eyes widened slightly. He watched as her eyes quickly scanned every inch of him, taking in whatever they could before finally landing back on his face. Well...more like the left side of his face.

"I just had a rough weekend."

He took a small step forward, only to press his back up against the lockers behind him as Michelle stepped in front of him, eyes dark and cold. "What the hell happened to you?" She asked, her voice tight and controlled. If it weren't for the fact that her fists were clenched at her sides, Peter would have assumed she was simply asking about the weather.

The teen shrugged. "I had a little accident in the kitchen yesterday." He murmured.

Michelle cocked a brow. "What kind of accident?"

Peter resisted the urge to reach for his collarbone. He knew it would be a dead giveaway to the observant girl. She knew he only rubbed at the spot whenever he was nervous or uncomfortable. "I was making dinner when I slipped on some of the water I spilled on the floor. Hit my head on the counter." He explained.

Lying had become like second nature to him. Excuses. Quick responses. It all made to be a pretty useful skill when he needed it to be. Of course, it helped that most people assumed he couldn't lie for shit. It helped make moments like this all the more believable.

"It looks worse than it is." He tried to reassure her. "Really all it did was set me back ten minutes for dinner, so that was kinda annoying."

God, he was getting too good at this.

Michelle continued to stare at him, eyes seeming to bore into him. For a moment, Peter had to wonder whether or not Michelle had super hearing as well, for if not, there was no way she could hear the frantic beating of his heart. But the look she was currently giving him said otherwise.

However, after a moment, the girl let out a small scoff. "God, you are such a loser." She muttered, Peter hiding the small sigh of relief that flew from his lips at that. The feeling was short-lived, however, as Michelle rounded on him again. "Alright, so I get that. But it doesn't explain why you look like you just exsanguinated yourself." She uttered. "Or why you look like you're gonna pass out any second."

Peter felt a grimace form on his face as he glanced away. "I just...don't feel...all that good today." He finally said softly, pressing his back harder against the lockers as a small wave of dizziness washed over him. It was gone a second later, but by the look MJ was currently giving him, she'd seen the way he'd swayed.

He threw her a small, nervous smile to which the girl responded with a scowl.

This was not going good.

"Yo! Penis Parker!

And...that was worse.

Peter couldn't suppress the small groan that escaped him as Flash came into view. As the boy approached, Peter slowly pushed himself away from the lockers, keeping one hand pressed up against the cool metal, if only as a support. Michelle's eyes narrowed in annoyance as the boy rounded the corner, folding his arms as he threw a smirk at the pair.

"Where's your boyfriend?" He called as he glanced at Peter. "You two go at it too hard last night?" He sneered.

The usual uncomfortable feeling that arose whenever Flash was nearby began to crawl up his spine, but he resisted the urge to rub at his collarbone as MJ let out a scoff of her own. "Please. Even if they did, at least he actually got some action." She muttered before casting Flash a small look with a quirked brow. "Maybe next time they'll invite you if you ask nicely."

Flash curled his lip as he glared at the girl, who was quick to copy the boy's look as the two stared off. Peter glanced between the pair before awkwardly clearing his throat. "Ahem...not that this conversation isn't the greatest, but for your information, Ned's at home." He murmured, turning towards Flash. "He caught that bug that's been going around for the last couple weeks."

The boy continued to glare at Michelle for a moment longer before relenting, letting out a snort. "Uh-huh...sure." He mocked, malicious eyes boring into Peter. The teen looked away and turned towards the floor, pressing his hand harder into the metal of the lockers. He could practically feel the vibrations racking his skull so much so that he had to harness his willpower to not smash his head against the lockers just to get a little bit of relief.

"What do you want anyways, Thompson?" MJ muttered, a new look of indifference masking her features, the previous anger now gone.

Flash shook off whatever annoyance he'd been feeling as he stepped closer to Peter, wrapping an arm around the teen's shoulders. Peter winced at the harsh movements as he squinted his eyes in pain. Either flash didn't notice, or he just didn't care. Peter was willing to bet on the latter.

"Just thought you should know that Penis here really dropped the ball at decathlon practice yesterday." He smirked. "You should have seen him floundering around, guessing all the wrong answers. It was hilarious and actually...kinda sad." He patted the teen's shoulder.

Both Peter and Michelle shared annoyed looks at the teen's words.

Ever since Peter had joined the team, Flash had been looking to kick him off. Peter assumed it could have been because of many reasons. Maybe it was cause as long as he was on the team, Flash would remain as First Alternate. Maybe it was because the other members enjoyed having Peter around more than Flash. Or maybe it was just cause Flash didn't like him.

Yeah...that one sounded about right.

Peter had gotten used to the boy trying his best to crawl underneath his skin, belittling him to the other members of the team as he tried to convince them that it would be best just to kick the teen off the team. No matter how many times the team made it clear that they weren't getting rid of Peter anytime soon, Flash never wasted an opportunity to try and convince them. And considering the fact that their Team Captain had been absent from their last practice - which rarely happened - the rich boy obviously saw it as a perfect opportunity to stir up some trouble.

"Anyway, just here to remind you that the team's been wondering when you're gonna do what's best and kick him off." The teen concluded with a pearly smile.

Michelle's eyes seemed to get colder, if such a feat were possible. She folded her arms across her chest as she cocked her hip. "Really? The 'team'?" She quoted with a raised brow. "You mean the same team I talked to half an hour ago? The same team that gave me a debriefing on the practice yesterday?"

Flash's smile faltered.

"The same team that said Peter - as usual - got every question right while you were spending your time snapchatting in the corner?" Her eyes narrowed as a small smile formed on her lips. "Yeah, I heard. Thanks for the heads up, though. It's nice to be reminded that we made the right choice in keeping you as an alternate." She sighed before turning away.

Flash instantly stepped away from Peter as he stepped closer towards the girl, his anger finally seeping through in his voice. Peter couldn't help the small sigh of relief as Flash removed his arm from his shoulder. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, concentrating in keeping himself from swaying as his head gave another fierce throb.

"Oh, come on!" Flash slapped his hands down against the sides of his designer jeans. "the only reason I didn't answer any questions is because I already knew the answers! Everybody knows that." He scoffed before glaring back at the girl. "Don't tell me you actually think this loser is smarter than me."

MJ slowly turned back around as she held one of the straps of her backpack, her other hand hanging limply by her side. "I don't think he's smarter than you."

Peter glanced up.

"There! You se-"

The girl leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "I know he is. And the rest of the team does, too." She growled. "Face it, Flash. The only way you're moving up from Alternate is if you prove you deserve it. But I don't see that happening anytime soon. So I suggest you stop wasting my time and give the whole 'mocking Peter' thing a break, cause it just proves you aren't heading up anytime soon." She muttered before spinning on her heel and walking away, her curly hair swishing around her shoulders as she moved.

Peter and Flash both watched her walk away just as the bell rang above their heads. Peter swallowed as he grimaced slightly. Pushing himself off the lockers as he hunched his shoulders. "Nice talking to you, as always, Flash." He murmured softly as he began to walk away.

He didn't expect for his backpack to be grabbed and forecfully pulled back, a startled yelp falling from his mouth. Wide eyes stared back at Flash in shock as the teen inched closer, eyes seething. "Don't think this is over, freak. I deserve that spot way more than you do." He pointed a sharp finger in Peter's chest. He curled his fingers as his head pounded. He couldn't take this right now.

"The only reason they give it to you is cause they pity you, Penis." Flash snarled. "Why wouldn't they? Everyone in this school knows you're nothing but a loser." He growled out, teeth grinding as he stepped closer to the teen. Peter backed up another step, a fresh wave of dizziness engulfing him at the increased noise of the people moving around him in the halls as well as the boy that was practically screaming in his face.

This really wasn't going all that well, huh?

Flash obviously didn't notice the teen's distress, for he simply took another step closer. "Well, once they get tired of you, you're out of there! It's only a matter of time." He growled, shoving the teen hard against the lockers.

Usually, such a move would force Peter to willingly allow his body to slam against the cool metal, if only to avoid suspicion. However, it was obvious neither boys were expecting Peter to crash to the floor following the shove. But the teen couldn't stop his descent. A grunt of pain fell from his lips as he hit the cold tile, his shoulder jarring painfully as his head threatened to explode, his stomach churning like a frothing pot.

A loud whining filled his ears, the previous loud noises sounding soft and far off, almost as if he was underwater. Cracking his eyes open once more, he instantly shut them again with a wince, the lights blurry as they bled into each other. He shakily pushed himself up, pressing one hand against his forehead as his legs remained sprawled out next to him.

Gritting his teeth, the whining refused to leave his ears as he dared to crack his eyes open once again. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the sound of people shouting, though the words were garbled and warped, though the high-pitch nature of the sound made Peter assume it was a girl.

Lifting his head, the teen lifted his gaze painfully. He noticed that the people in the hallway were now staring at the scene before them. Michelle was there again. When had she gotten back? Peter couldn't remember. She was yelling at Flash, whose hands were held up as an annoyed look marred his features.

Suddenly, Peter noticed a new figure push through the crowd. It took him a moment to recognize the man through the painful whining in his skull as Mr. Harrington approached the two bickering teens. Once again, the words were foggy and muffled, but whatever they said had Flash walking away in a huff, melting away into the crowd, which Mr. Harrington was quick to disperse.

Peter blinked groggily as a hand was being placed on his shoulder and fingers were holding his chin, forcefully lifting his face. Wincing slightly as the whining spiked before dying down, Peter noticed that Michelle was now kneeling in front of him, holding his face in her hands as her lips moved. Peter assumed she was speaking, but he couldn't really drag in the energy to care about what she was saying. At least the whining was quieting.

"-er? -eter! C..n ear...me?"

He blinked at her again. There was something in her face. Her features weren't as hard as usual and her eyes held none of their usual cold indifference. No, for some reason, they looked...softer. Concerned.

Hmm...weird.

"M-MJ?" He murmured. Was that him speaking though? It didn't sound like him. It sounded...weird. Weaker.

The whining slowly began to taper off until all he could hear was the soft clacking of people's feet as they scurried off to their classes, the three quickly becoming the only people in the hallway. Mr. Harrington knelt down beside MJ, who was now helping Peter sit up against the lockers. "Peter? Can you hear me?" He asked softly.

The teen winced as he pressed his head back against the cold of the lockers, giving a small nod. "Y-yeah...yeah, I can hear you." He said softly. "I...I'm okay." HE murmured, though even he didn't believe it. "I...I didn't mean to freak everyone out. I'm...I'm fine."

Michelle and Mr. Harrington shared a look before turning back to Peter. "You're fine?" The girl echoed, crossing her arms. "You literally just took a nosedive in the middle of the hallway." She muttered, though her fingers tapped nervously against her arms.

Peter gave a small smile as he blew a small breath from his mouth. "I'm good. R-really. I...I just got a little dizzy. Plus Flash is a jerk so that didn't help." He explained, hoping they'd buy it enough to leave him alone.

Mr. Harrington's face darkened as he let out a sigh. "I'll have to have a word with him about this." He uttered, only for Peter to lean closer. "No!" He jerked in, the other two turning towards him in shock.

Peter quickly retracted and bit his lip as he glanced down at the floor. "It's...it's not a big deal." He muttered, his fingers curling into his jeans once again. "Can't...can't we just...forget about this?" He murmured. "I...it's not worth it. Please."

From the look on Mr. Harrington's face, it was obvious he wanted to do no such thing. Judging by the look on MJ's face, it looked like she wasn't planning on forgetting anytime soon. However, the desperation in the teen's voice had the teacher hesitating. He continued to stare at Peter, fingers twitching in thought as he took in the sight before him.

"Do you want to go the nurse?" He asked, his eyes lingering on the teen's bruised face for a moment longer.

Peter shook his head, his gaze staying locked onto the tiled floor beneath him.

The older man knelt there for another minute before he let out a small tired sigh. "Alright. If you're sure you're alright." He murmured softly as he and Michelle helped the boy to his feet, his movements tense and uncomfortable...as usual.

Peter gripped one of the straps of his backpack tightly with both hands, curls falling into his face. "You two should probably get to class." He said with a soft smile. "Peter, if you start to feel bad, don't hesitate to head on down to the nurse, alright?" He called, the teen giving a small, controlled nod. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, Peter quickly tensing under his touch. "I'll check up on you later. You have my class later today so I'll keep an eye out."

Michelle nodded for the boy, grabbing roughly onto his sleeve. "Yeah, thanks Mr. Harrington. We'll see you later." She murmured, flashing the teacher a grateful nod before practically dragging the boy in her grasp down the hall. Once they rounded the corner, she all boy jumped in front of him, eyes seething.

"Alright, Parker. Slip. What the hell was that all about?" She growled out.

Peter stared down at her, long brown curls concealing some of her face from his view. Usually, such an intense look from the girl was enough to have him a stuttering mess, but for some reason, the ten couldn't muster up the energy to really care. He shut his eyes and turned away, wincing slightly as his head screeched. God, that was getting annoying.

"Pet-"

"Look, I really don't want to talk about this right now, alright?!" He growled out, his voice much harsher than he'd been expecting. But to be honest, he didn't really care about that either. He couldn't bring himself to say sorry again. Not when the lights above him seemed to be dialed up to eleven. Not when they threatened to make him tear his own eyes out. Why was it so fucking bright?!

MJ blinked in mild surprise at the boy's shift in demeanor. She curled her fists and was about to retort something back, only to pause as she caught sight of the small tears blinking at the corners of the boy's eyes. Rearing back slightly, the girl washed her eyes over the rest of the boy in front of her.

His shaking hands were curled tightly into the bottom of his jacket as his chest moved in erratic, frantic patterns. His jaw was tense and his eyes were scrunched tightly. The bruise on his face seemed to be darkening, or perhaps it was just his skin turning paler. Either way, the teen seemed sick.

The girl stared for a moment longer before taking a step back, a small sigh falling past her lips. She didn't need to be a genius to tell when someone was in pain.

Peter waited for the girl to begin yelling at him, or at least Michelle's version of yelling, which he was willing to bet was worse than the average person's version. However, he quickly jumped in surprise as he felt something being slid over his face. Cracking his eyes open as he fully expected the harsh lights to pierce through him again, he was even more shocked to find that everything had been tinted a darker shade of blue, the filter acting as a calming wave of relief for his splintering brain.

Before he could react, he felt something being pushed into his hands. Glancing down, the teen saw he was now holding three small orange pills. Blinking in mild surprise, he turned back up to face the girl in front of him. Michelle's arms were folded over her chest once more as she stared at him with her usual intense look. "You're lucky I carry around my migraine medication, Loser." She muttered. "Take these with some water. They should kick in in around half an hour. Think you can keep from passing out till then?" She uttered with a roll of her eyes as she turned and began to walk towards her class.

Peter stared down at the pills for a moment longer before his brain finally caught up with him. He lifted his head once again. "MJ?" He called after the girl, the teen turning at the end of the hallway to glance back at him.

He gave a soft smile, feeling just a shade lighter for the first time that day. "Thank you."

The girl stared at him for a moment longer before hoisting her backpack farther over her shoulder. "I'll see you at lunch. Try not to die before then or I'll kill you." She muttered before rounding the corner.

Peter stared after her before turning to look at the pills, the same strange familiar feeling he'd been noticing often twinging in his chest once again. Only this time, there was something different. There was something off about it. It felt...stranger. He'd felt it as Michelle's dark brown eyes had been staring into him. He'd felt it as her fingers brushed up against his cheeks.

. . . .

That should have worried him, too.

---

Wednesday - March 30, 2016

Location Unknown

03:52 p.m.

"You can't be serious. You can't be fucking serious!"

"Funny. And here I thought you could always tell when I was and wasn't joking around, Barton. Guess I overestimated you."

Clint threw her a glare as Natasha stripped off the worn, dirty shirt she'd previously been wearing. Tossing it onto one of the racks nailed into the cement wall, the woman picked another clean shirt from the pile they'd collected in the corner.

"Natasha, you can't actually be considering this. I mean, it's insane. You just...you can't-" The spy started, only for the woman to cut him off as she began to roll up the edges of the new blouse.

"Oh, please. Go ahead. Tell me what I can and cannot do, Clint. Cause right now, you sound a lot like those assholes up on Capital Hill who put us all here in the first place." She muttered, eyes leveling the man a cool stare as she pulled the shirt over her head, straightening it out around her stomach as she pulled her hair out of the collar.

Sam, Wanda and Scott all watched from around the archer as he clenched his fists. Sam and Scott currently sat on some of the many wooden boxes that had been strewn about their chosen warehouse while Wanda leaned up against the back wall, arms crossed over her chest.

They'd been going at it for at least a half an hour now, and it didn't seem to be dying down anytime soon. But it wasn't like there was much else to do. They'd been camping out in the large, dirty warehouse for nearly two months now. Compared to the pristine walls and high tech glamour of the Wakandan kingdom they'd come from, it was a definite step down.

But they couldn't stay. Not when they knew what they knew. So if they had to trade comfort and protection for a damp, smelly warehouse, then so be it. They'd do it if it meant continuing their jobs. The jobs they'd been prosecuted for doing. The jobs they refused to give up.

So, while they spent the nights planning, scanning and patrolling the underground networks as they tried to dig up some information on the weapon deals, the days themselves weren't all that eventful. More often than not, they'd either sleep in, swap stories or tidy up their "living quarters", which were just different corners of the warehouse.

The structure was big, they'd give it that. Considering it was next to the bay, it was most likely used for shipping containers and storage. But now it was empty and abandoned, perfect for them. The thick cememnt walls divided the large space into two different rooms, sharply cut incisions in the stone the closest thing they had to doorways. Along the walls sat large metal racks, which held clothes, water bottles, food. Basically a necessities wall for going on the run.

Or course, they kept their personal weapons on their person most of the time so there was no need to store those away. Especially now, when Natasha seemed only a few moments away from pulling her pistol out on Clint.

The archer narrowed his eyes as Natasha continued to change her clothes. "Yeah, well I'm not the one who wants to go and visit one of those assholes, jeopardizing our entire cover while she's at it." He growled. "No, you go right ahead. What right do we, your actual trusted teammates, have to put our say into this matter?"

The woman opened her mouth to say something, only for Sam to pick his head up. "He's right, Natasha." He murmured. "This mission would be a dangerous one all on its own. We all know going out in broad daylight is dangerous enough for us right now. But you'd actually be willing to compromise our position just...just to see Stark? Just to visit one of the people who dumped this mess on us?" He asked, voice hiding none of his anger at the topic.

"What makes you so certain he will not turn you in the second you show up?" Wanda voiced from her spot against the wall.

Natasha didn't lift her head as she pulled a jacket from the pile of clothes. "He didn't the last time."

"Yeah, and he's been known to be such a valuable and trustworthy person in the past." Clint muttered. "He's probably just waiting for you to make the same mistake again, the very same mistake you're about to make right now." He growled out.

Natasha lifted her head, staring at the man with her calm, piercing, unwavering gaze. "I'm going, Clint."

Wanda pushed herself off of the wall, stepping closer. "You'd be willing to place him above us, your own teammates? You're choosing him over us?"

"Don't be such a child." The woman scoffed, Wands glaring right back at the words. "I'm not choosing anybody over anyone else. I'm simply going to check on a friend."

Clint folded his arms. "Shockingly, I don't think that's the word he'd use to describe you."

"Better than what he'd use to describe you."

That earned her another glare.

"Umm...c-can I just say...something...here?"

Four heads turned towards Scott, the man hesitantly lifting his hand into the air like a seventh-grader asking a question. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Look...I don't really know this Stark guys all that well. Actually...I don't really know any of you all that well if we're really being honest here and-"

"The point, Scott." Sam muttered.

"Right, right!" The man huffed with a small nervous smile. "All I'm saying is that this seems like a pretty risky operation. And like, I don't know if I should be mentioning this to you or whatever but I was kinda a pretty good burglar back in the day and uh...one of the main things you always had to remember was to avoid any unnecessary risks, and that's kinda what this sounds like. An unnecessary risk."

Natasha lowered her head once more as she began to unzip the jacket. Sam glanced over towards the man. "You were a robber?"

"Burglar, actually."

"Is there a difference?"

Scott let out an annoyed huff. "'is there a difference?" He echoed. "As a matter of fact-"

"Can we focus please?!" Clint puffed with a well pointed glare towards the two bickering men. He turned back towards Natasha, who was shrugging the jacket onto her shoulders. He stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "Natasha-" He stressed, only for her to wrench her arm out of his grasp and lean forward, eyes sharp as they glared back at him.

"I'm going." She growled, her voice taking on a deadly tone.

Wanda narrowed her eyes and took another step forward. "Stark doesn't care about you." She spat. "He doesn't care about any of us. He made that perfectly clear when he betrayed us." She huffed, folding her arms once again. "You honestly think he is worth all of this? You think he deserves you caring about him?"

"No."

All heads turned upwards towards the catwalk platforms above their heads, the new voice grabbing their attention. "In all honesty, he deserves a lot more. But this is all we have right now." Steve moved over towards the stairs. "So we're gonna have to make it work."

"Cap, come on, man!" Sam called as the large figure began to descend the metal stairs as he joined them on the ground. "You of all people have to be against this." he continued.

"You cannot trust him. You have to understand that." Wanda stressed. "He is not our ally."

Steve stopped in front of them. Similar to the rest of them, he was dressed in casual clothes. A light grey shirt underneath a dark blue jacket, his actual uniform safely stashed away with the rest of theirs. On his face, there was the barest hint of a light beard. "Maybe not." he murmured. "But he certainly isn't our enemy."

Clint scoffed. "Wanna bet?"

"Barton, shut your mouth for one fucking second before I shut it for you." Natasha snarled, taking a threatening step forward. Clint narrowed his eyes, but said nothing else.

Steve let out a sigh. "Look, I know this isn't ideal. And I know tensions are a little high right now a-"

"A little high?" Sam echoed, crossing his arms. "You're kidding, right?"

The super soldier leveled him a hard look. "But you all have to stop seeing this as black and white. Cause things aren't like that. Not anymore." He stressed before lowering his gaze. "Maybe that was the whole problem."

The others each shared small glances. The look on the man's face was the same look that always followed up his thoughts of Siberia. He never talked about it. They never asked. It was an unspoken agreement to never bring it up. In all honesty, they didn't want to.

After Steve and Barnes had broken them out of the Raft, they'd all fled. Wakanda had been the safest place for them at the time. Cap hadn't said much about what had transpired between him and Tony, other than that they had gotten into a fight, and a pretty bad one judging from the fact that Bucky's arm was...well, nonexistent.

Sam had been furious, of course. After all, the only reason he'd disclosed the man's location in the first place was because he'd made him promise to go as a friend and he'd done just the opposite. Steve assured the man that it wasn't like that. That things were much more complicated, but Sam - the others didn't see it that way. All they was was Stark hammering the final nail on their coffin.

They were fugitives.

And it was all his fault.

They just couldn't understand why Steve didn't see it that way.

"Look, I know this is hard. And I know none of you are in quite a forgiving mood right now." Steve uttered. "But you need to understand that Stark isn't the bad guy here."

"Well he certainly isn't the good guy." Clint muttered.

"What, and we are?" Natasha countered. Sam let out an angered huff. "He lied, Cap. He lied to my face. He promised he'd have your back in Siberia and instead, he tried to stab it an-"

"Sam." Steve cut in. "Just...just don't." He grunted. "A...a lot of things happened in Siberia that neither of us are proud of."

Wanda shook her head. "Why do you keep defending him?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly, placing one hand on her hip. "I'm surprised you can't relate, Wanda." She called. "After all, you should know what it's like to let your emotions cloud your logic and dictate your actions. Regrettable actions, I'd like to add." Her eyes were sharp.

Wanda clenched her fists, but said nothing, turning her head away.

"Listen, I know this is risky. That's why I'm sending Nat. She's the least likely out of all of us to stir anything up. But you have to stop thinking that we're the only ones who got the short end of the straw." He stressed. "Whether you all want to admit it, Tony is still our teammate. In a way, we were lucky."

"How do you figure?" Scott muttered.

Steve's brows furrowed. "We still have each other. We're still together. We still have each other's backs." He paused. "Tony...he doesn't have that. Not anymore."

It looked like Clint wanted to comment, but one well placed glare from Natasha had him shutting his mouth, obviously thinking better of it. Steve turned back towards Natasha. "She's doing this. You don't have to like it. You don't have to agree with it." He stared back at them. "But you do have to accept it. Cause we're not changing our minds."

With that, the man turned and walked out of the large room without another word. Without looking back.

It was final.

Clint stared after him before letting out a disgusted scoff. He glanced at Natasha one last time, his eyes hard and pained before he shook his head, leaving the room as well. Sam let out a small sigh as he followed him out, giving Natasha's shoulder a light pat before he left.

Scott stared after them, turning back to Natasha before letting out a small cough. He hesitantly stood up and jabbed a thumb in their direction. "I'm just gonna...yeah..." He murmured before quickly darting out of the room as well. That left just her and Wanda.

She paid little mind of the young woman as she rummaged through her own personal collection of things stashed off to teh side, fiddling with her pistol slightly before placing it back into it's holster.

"This is still a mistake."

The woman shut her eyes for just a moment before letting out a soft breath, raising herself back up as she turned to face Wanda, the girl's arms folded once again as he dark brown eyes leveled Nat a hard look.

The assassin was not phased by the look, however, as she stepped forward. "Listen, I know you ans Stark have your issues, and I get that. I'm not asking you to like him." She sighed. "But he's my friend." He eyes instantly iced over as her fists clenched. "So unless you have an actual reason for being here other than to spew out more garbage," She leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "I suggest you shut your mouth and keep your head out of my business. M'kay, kid?"

Without another word, the woman turned and walked out of the room, leaving a speechless Wanda behind.

She knew why they were against it. She couldn't really blame them. Clint and Scott had it the worst. They'd both left families behind. People they loved that they could no longer see. Whatever sense of normalcy they'd all had before this al had started had been shattered and nobody knew if it would ever be repaired.

Scott seemed to have a much different approach in dealing with his grief. Natasha noticed that the man had gotten closer with Sam and Wanda, sharing stupid stories and playing with the dck of cards he'd found in the garbage. She assumed that's just how the man was. Seeing things as half full, making what he could of the situation. The assassin couldn't say she knew him all that well yet, but she could tell he was a good man. And a good teammate.

Clint...

Clint had a much different approach to it.

He didn't hesitate in assigning his blame. Assigning someone to pay for his grief. For the loss of his family. And Stark seemed perfect to pay the bill. Natasha knew the archer and the mechanic had never been particularly close, even when they'd been on the same team. But she still remembered how Clint used to be. Joking around as he tried getting under Tony's skin. Relishing in the man's annoyance. Despite how often they butted heads, it was obvious they enjoyed the other's company.

Well...they had.

Nowadays, Clint seemed ready to maul the man's head off.

Sam...Sam didn't seem as mad as he was upset. Disappointed. But Natasha was willing to bet such feeling didn't really stem from his own pain, but from Steve's. The man was one of his best friends and it was obvious he was struggling. Sam could see it. Hell, they all could. And the man knew that Tony was the center of all that pain, all that grief. So of course, such feelings quickly led to his resentment of the billionaire. Not in the same degree as Clint, but it was still there.

Then there was Wanda.

Out of all of them, she was the youngest. The kid. The one who'd held the weakest connection to Stark before all of this had transpired. And even before then, tensions were high between her and the man. Even though she know knew the truth about the man and the weapons that had orphaned her - weapons that were being dealt under the table without his knowledge or consent - there was still a part of her that had blamed the man. And once all of this started, it seemed those tensions had now come to full light.

Natasha threw a small glance behind her at the large warehouse. Scott was laying in his corner on a bundle of dirty blankets he'd shaped into a bed, his leg propped up on a knee as he bopped his foot along to the rhythm of some nonexistent music. Sam was sorting the deck of cards for about the millionth time. Clint was wordlessly cleaning his bow, though he'd been doing it so often that the weapon now gleamed like steel, and Wanda sat above them on the catwalk, staring out one of the windows situated above them.

The assassin stared at the scene for a moment longer before lowering her head, stepping outside.

What had happened to them?

The brisk March air hit her hard as she opened the back door out of the warehouse. It didn't take her long to spot Steve. The man was standing up against the railings posted along the edge of the bayside walkway. The Hudson River shone brightly as it reflected the startling light of the sun overhead. He leaned against the metal railing, his elbows pressed down against the rusted metal as his hands hung limply over the edge.

Silently, the woman walked over, stopping right beside him. For a moment, neither person said anything. They simply continued to stare out at the bay, content with the silence that had risen around them. Across the large expanse of water, the low lying buildings of Queens stood out against the sky, shining bright flashes of the sun back into their eyes.

"I don't need to tell you what we're risking in sending you out."

Natasha didn't bother in turning her head. "I know." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the man's head drop suddenly, his chin coming close to his chest as he shut his eyes, a small breath falling from his lips.

"Steve..." She called, moving closer. "It's gonna be alright."

The man shook his head softly. "Things haven't been alright since we started this shit." He muttered before glaring over at her as she opened her mouth. "I swear, if you say language one more time."

Natasha turned away with a chuckle, Steve returning it with a soft smile of his own. He gazed down at the water, the soft, rippling currents lapping up against the side of the concrete walls. The man's smile slowly disappeared as he watched the small waves. "How was he?" He whispered. "Last time you..." He trailed off.

The woman glanced over at him before staring down at the water as well, her fingers tapping against the cold metal of the railings as she debated how to play things. "He...he was how you'd expect." She finally decided on. "Depressed, angry, bitter...sad." She shook her head before turning to face the super soldier. "Steve, it's...it's not good. I'm actually...a little worried." She confessed.

The man stared at her, his eyes full of the pain and regret Natasha had been seeing in them since he'd returned from Siberia. He shut his eyes and turned away, lowering his head once again. "And yet..."

He glanced back up.

"There was something else. I've seen him at his worst before. Trust me." She muttered, remembering a certain time she'd gone undercover. "But...there was something different. Last time, I was fully expecting to either find him on the floor in the corner of his lab, surrounded by empty bottles and covered in his own vomit-"

"Thanks for that image."

"Or I was just waiting for him to straight up attack me on sight." She murmured. "But...it was different. Sure, he was just as bitter and frustrated as I'd expected, but it was like...it was like he was holding off for some reason." She explained.

Steve quirked a brow. "Pepper?" He asked.

Natasha shook her head. "No...no, as far as I can tell, they're still apart."

"That makes this worse." Steve grunted.

"Yeah, but I'm telling you, Steve. There was...it...it's like he was holding on to something...something else." She said. "I just don't know what it could be."

Steve's face hardened in thought as he turned his head back around, his eyes scanning the dark waters as he took in the woman's words. He glanced back over towards her as he recalled something she'd told him a few days ago.

"Didn't you mention a kid before?"

Nat glanced at him, shrugging her shoulders. "Yes, but...I don't know if that's what it is. I mean, he said the kid was just an intern."

Steve scoffed. "Well, let's not forget who we're talking about. Tony's not one to disclose what he feels or who he feels it for. Maybe this kid's more than he let him on to be." He explained.

Natasha furrowed her brows in thought. "Maybe..." She glanced back over at the man as he turned away, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck as he sighed tiredly. She didn't need to be a world-class spy to know the man had been skirting by these past few weeks with only a few hours of sleep each night, if he even did at all. She could tell it was starting to take a toll.

"I know this has been tough on you, Steve." She murmured softly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. His eyes scrunched tighter for a second before he opened them, keeping them locked onthe waters below. "I just...it's..." He paused, unsure of where to go.

The woman stared at him before pressing her tongue against her cheek. "I know you don't talk about Siberia. It's alright. You don't have to." She spoke softly.

Steve's hands clenched tightly around the metal railing, the soft sound of creaking filling the air as the rails bent like tinfoil underneath his grasp. Judging by the look on his face, the man didn't even realize he was doing it as he stared out over the bay. As the two sat there in the silence for a minute, Natasha wondered if he would say anything else. Finally, after a moment, the man let out a small breath as he glanced up towards the sky in exhaustion.

"...I couldn't lose him, Nat." He whispered, his voice soft and pained. "I couldn't lose Bucky. Not...not again. It's just..." He trailed off for a moment. "I never thought I'd be losing Tony in exchange."

She gently squeezed his shoulder. "You did what you could, Steve." She sighed, only for the man to pull away, glaring down at nothing. "Yeah, well it wasn't good enough! In...in protecting my friend, I was just hurting another. And now they're both..." He stopped, the words catching in his throat as he stopped, tightening his grip on the mangled metal before releasing his hands, turning away. "I just wish I could..." He didn't go on.

"I know you want to talk to him, Steve." She finally said. "But right now, I think that might do more harm than good." She explained, remembering with a wince how Tony had reacted just when hearing the man's name. She didn't want to think about what would happen when they came face to face. If they ever did.

Somehow, the thought that they never would was all the more painful.

Steve said nothing more as he continued to watch the small waves. Natasha knew she wouldn't get any more out of him. With a soft pat,she gave him a small smile. "I'll watch him, Steve. For the both of us." She vowed, her voice soft but determined.

The man turned to her before giving a nod. He watched as she pulled away, tightening the straps on her jacket as she began to make her way down the walkway, Stark Tower shining against the sun in the distance.

"Nat..." He called, watching as the woman turned back. Without saying anything, both people knew what was being said. Be careful.

She stared at him for a moment longer before giving a nod of her own.

"I know."

---

Wednesday - March 30, 2016

Stark Tower - Main Offices

04:21 p.m.

Natasha liked to consider herself a pretty calm person. It took a lot to shake her, and it took even more to actually make her feel even a fleeting glimpse of nervousness. However, underneath the piercing gaze of one Pepper Potts, she could somewhat understand why her fingers were suddenly twitching by her sides.

Rhodey and Happy didn't really make things any easier, she'd like to add.

When she'd entered the office, she'd fully been expecting to see Tony not working at his desk. So when she entered to see not just one of his slightly irked teammates, but all three, she couldn't help but be a bit cautious.

"Ms. Romanoff." Pepper called coolly, her eyes revealing none of the shock that had been there when the woman had first entered the room. Happy, on the other hand looked like someone had just scratched his car with their keys while Rhodey seemed to be trying to keep his face neutral. It wasn't working all that well.

"What are you doing here?" Pepper continued, either not noticing her friends' displeasure, or choosing to ignore it. Her nails tapped against the desk, the sharp sounds radiating around the room.

"Yeah, In case you haven't noticed, there are quite a few people who are pretty keen in talking to you." Happy muttered. "And uh...it ain't us." He growled, quickly sizing the woman up. He noticed the slight bulge at her side where her gun was stashed and his gaze darkened, eyes catching Rhodey's as the man obviously caught sight of it as well. He cautiously slid closer to Pepper.

Natasha took a small breath, refusing to back down. "I came for Tony."

"Mm-hmm..." Rhodey nodded, his eyes narrowed. "And uh...just what do you want with him, huh?" He growled. "Here to tie up some loose ends for you and your gang of criminals?" She couldn't remember the last time the Colonel had spoken to her with such venom.

"Rhodey-" She started, her voice calm. She hadn't been prepared to deal with this monster of an issue today.

"Don't." He snapped. "Alright, I don't need another reason to reach over there and dial up Ross, kay?" He muttered, glancing over towards the desk, where the company phone sat. Pepper's hand was already sliding closer to it. Natasha made sure to keep the woman in her sights.

"So why don't you go and actually do something good for Tony for once and get out of here? Cause God knows we don't need anymore problems, and that seems to be all that you guys bring." Rhodes gripped the arm rests of the chair he was sitting in as he stood up, his leg braces whirring softly.

Natasha couldn't help but glance down at them before meeting his gaze once more. "Problems for us to fix. Problems for him to deal with, alright? You've already done enough to us."

The woman took a small step back as she glanced down at the side, a sigh falling from her lips as she hesitated in bringing up the elephant in the room. This was not gonna be good. She could already tell. "Look..." She said softly. "About Leipzig, about...about your legs, you have every right to-"

Rhodes stalked closer. "I'm not talking about my legs." His voice was eerily quiet. Natasha couldn't help but listen intently. The pit in her stomach cracked open even more.

"He trusted each and every one of you And you tried to kill him."

This...this was worse.

"So excuse me If I'm not jumping up to welcome you back." He snarled as the tips of Pepper's fingers grazed the phone.

"I'm not asking you to."

They turned back towards her as she lowered her gaze. Pepper's hand paused.

"I know better than anyone just how badly we screwed up, alright?" She uttered.

"Hmph." Happy sniffed. "You sure about that? Try spending a couple hours around here, you'll see just how badly you screwed up." He growled, glaring back at the redhead.

"But-" She stressed. "That doesn't mean I don't want to try and fix this. I know it might not seem like it, but I care about Tony. And I hate how things turned out." She explained, hoping to alleviate some of the fears she knew they had to be feeling. "I know we messed up. I know you all were just trying to do what was right. I know...and I'm sorry." She took a breath. "I'm sorry for what's happening now."

Pepper, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation, let out a small sigh as she ran a hand through her hair. "We all are." She said softly. The other two men glanced over towards her before the anger in their faces seemed to die down a little.

Realizing she'd have to make the most of their small moment of calm, she stepped forward. "All I want to do is try to make things right. I know it'll take a while." She murmured. "I'm willing to try. And I know I have no right to ask this..." She couldn't help the small spark of hesitation that silenced her for a second before she found her voice once again. "But I'll need your help."

Happy couldn't help the scoff that fell from his mouth. "Oh, jeez. You gotta be shitting me." He muttered.

"Look, I know you don't trust me." She pushed on despite the looks she was getting. "Tony doesn't either. I can't blame you all for that. But I do know that you all want this to end just as badly as I do." Judging from the way their faces all twisted into looks of remorse, she was certain she'd hit her target. "I can't work towards that unless I have your help."

She knew it was true. Tony's circle of trusted allies was diminishing greatly and if there was even a chance that she' be able to make things work with the man, she'd need inside help. These three were her ticket in, but she couldn't do much if they started putting up a wall. Tony was already trying to do that. If they joined him in the endeavor, she could forget about her plan to make things right.

Rhodey folded his arms. "And what are we supposed to do, exactly? It's not like we can apologize for you."

"No, but Tony still trusts you." She explained. "You're some of the only people that can help him now. I can only do so much."

Pepper stared at her, drinking in her words. The last thing she wanted was for Tony to get worse. Things were already pretty unsteady with the billionaire. The last thing they needed was a push in the wrong direction. Still, she couldn't help the small twinge of hope that flared at the fact that perhaps this could be a push in the other direction. Maybe this was exactly what they needed now.

"You're here at least." She murmured. "That's more than I can say for some members of your team." Pepper growled, eyes narrowing as she thought of one particular star-spangled pain in her ass.

Natasha quirked a brow. "Do you really think I'd be a good idea to have him here?"

Pepper let out an annoyed sigh as she lowered her gaze to stare at the surface of her desk, which was littered with papers. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that both Rhodey and Happy were giving her small looks. She had been in enough board meetings to know what those discreet looks meant. They were asking her what she thought. They were waiting for her word.

The woman stayed silent for a moment as she traced her fingers along the edges of the pen in her hands. "I hate seeing him like this." She finally said.

Natasha watched as Rhodey gave a slight nod at the woman's words, apparently finding more meaning in them that she had, for he turned back toward her, a new resolve showing in his face. "We all do. And considering you're one of the reasons he's like this, I'm still incredibly tempted to grab that phone."

The assassin couldn't help the way her muscles tensed slightly at that.

"But...if you're serious. If you actually want to try and help him work past this..." The man trailed off for a moment before letting out a sigh, running a hand down his face. "Then we'll see what we can do." He glared back up at her. "Don't take this as an agreement. We still don't trust you. It's just a consideration."

However, the woman let a smile fall onto her face at his words. "That's all I'm asking for." She murmured softly before turning to glance at the door behind her. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but apparently the Colonel knew what she was about to say before she'd even said it.

"Down in the lab. That's usually where you'll find him nowadays."

The woman nodded softly before turning around. "Natasha."

she glanced back over her shoulder, one hand coming to rest on the frames along the doorway. Pepper stared back at her, green eyes strong and sharp as her face tensed in a hard look. "Don't hurt him again."

Natasha stared at her for a moment, before glancing around at the others in the room, seeing a similar statement reflected in all of their faces. "That's the last thing I want to do." She said softly before walking out of the room.

They stared after her for a few moments, saying nothing as they wondered whether or not they'd just made the right choice. The last thing they wanted was for one of the Rogues to get anywhere near Tony. They knew the man wasn't in the best place emotionally and that could sometimes lead to him making some pretty rash decisions. Decisions he could come to regret later.

However, they also knew that someone had to do something. Someone had to take the first step. They just weren't expecting it to be one of the Rogues, let alone Natasha. But...if there was a chance, if there was hope that the assassin could somehow put them down the road of resolve, then maybe that was a chance they'd have to take.

Happy folded his arms over his chest, quirking an eyebrow as he glanced over at the others.

"Isn't it Wednesday today?"

. . . . .

Natasha exited the elevator, noticing how FRIDAY's voice had been particularly short with her. Could AI's even be annoyed with you? Considering she'd been built by Tony, the assassin wasn't willing to bet against it. In fact, the billionaire had probably ordered her to be extra sassy to the Russian.

The thought had her rolling her eyes. Well, at least he hasn't lost his sense of humor. Or his annoyance...

As she rounded the corner of the lab, she felt herself stop short as she noticed someone sitting by one of the main work tables. Taking into mind whose lab it was she was entering, most would assume the figure was just Tony. The fact that it wasn't added a whole new level of shock to the woman's mind.

This was not her day, was it?

The figure was small. So definitely not Tony. Considering he was wearing both a sweater and a jacket that were too big for him, it was difficult to really get a good read on him, but the woman was willing to bet he was incredibly skinny. He had curly brown hair that draped down over his forehead, and light hazel eyes. However, the most noticeable thing about the boy was that he was nearly as pale as the paper he was writing on, which made the dark bruise on his face stick out all the more.

For a moment, the woman could only stare at the boy, who she was willing to bet was only around thirteen, maybe fourteen. She couldn't tell what he was working on from where she was standing, but she could make out what looked like textbooks on the table as well as a raggedy backpack sitting at his feet.

The boy obviously didn't notice her as he continued to work, his brows furrowed in concentration and his nose scrunched slightly as the tip of his tongue poked through his mouth while he scribbled down on the paper, seemingly lost in his work. Natasha had to admit, the dead concentration in his features was nearly a mirror to how Tony was whenever he worked.

Of course, Tony never looked so adorable when he worked so...there was that.

She was moving closer before she could think better of it, ideas as to who the child might be speeding through her head. She liked to think that Tony wouldn't be able to hide the fact that he had an illegitimate child from her, but it was hard to ignore what was in front of her.

After all, the old Tony had been a bit more...exuberant. Especially when it came to the opposite sex.

However, as she moved closer, the pages around the teen became clearer and cleared until she could read the large print embedded on one of the plans. Her eyes widened slightly as she lifted her head back up. "You're his intern?" She asked before her brain could catch up with her, a situation that almost rarely never happened.

The teen's head whipped up, eyes widening as he caught sight of the woman before him .

Okay, she was definitely off her game today.

---

NEW UPDATING SCHEDULE:. . . . . . . . . FUCK IT

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, NEW CHAPTERS WILL BE POSTED EVERY TWO WEEKS ON MONDAY-FRIDAY

*sucks in deep breath* listen...I tried. I tried so hard to post this on time but I went to Savannah with my family this weekend and then I went to go see Ant-Man and The Wasp on Tuesday with my friends cause I still like to pretend I have a life outside of this story (movie was great btw, you all should see it) so my schedule was all wonky. And I wrote like 20,000 words in the span of two days. Like... i need a break man.

Plus add on the fact that I still need to finish up some assignments for school and it's just a mess. So instead up posting on one specific day, I will be posting every two weeks on weekdays (Monday-Friday).

That means every two weeks, I may update on any day other than Saturday and Sunday. this way, you all still get a semblance of a schedule and I have the chance to breath, cause BTW this chapter is 30,000 words long.

So that is why this chapter is now being split into two parts. Hooray!

I swear I'm not doing this on purpose...

LIterally, I was like "this isn't gonna surpass 10,000 words" and now it's 1 am and I'm not even halfway done and I'm at 20,000 words and I'm just like..."well shit. this isn't going out on Wednesday, I can tell you that."

So sorry for whatever inconveniences this causes but it's just how this is gonna be. Especially when school starts up for me again. Just gonna casually start junior year of high school. You know, only the hardest year out of all of them. Plus, I'm taking the Holy Trinity of Death with my A classes just cause I like to torture myself so that'll be fun. But not as fun as the updating nightmare that is sure to come.

...

...

I think I need a virtual hug.

'Whatevernobodyevercaresaboutotherpeoplesproblems. Anyway! Originally, this chapter wasn't gonna contain the Rogues. I was just gonna have Natasha walk in on Peter and that be that. But it didn't seem to flow all that well so..heh..

BEGIN THE EDITING NIGHTMARE

Long story short, you lucky sandras you got to see your favorite rogues, complete with special guest: Betsy Ross! Don't worry, this was just a little snippet. You'll see a lot more of them as the story progresses

Just a heads up, the next chapter will probably be out sometime next week. I know, I just updated my schedule and now I'm not even sticking to it, but considering this left of on a pretty big cliffhanger and I already have the next chapter nearly complete, I';;; probably just post it early to put you all out of your misery.

P.S . . . .The Dark Room?

Anyway, thanks to these people for favoriting and/or following: momocandy2, Jvin2866, Mahquenziles, Ftxfusion24, Aunknowntimelord, Athena Sukura Parhenos, Woah Fanfiction, KittieBrick, Megz16, Sarabeth 2592, Sirfan, SoranoxSora, juicourt818, totallynotachicken, Toatasaurus, GottaLoveMyFandoms9731, adharsy14, takenbytheflash, jadenpoohbear, DustbeamMoth11, Manaphylover, Story5, Caraline Fisher, .9., Beckylouisee, missgemmaa, Rolosumm, Theclumsyone1369, duaa5141, Raven AKA Birdsteeth, Cupernum, Rebel for Hire, oliviajk42, LoonyLovegood1981, Cscorey, AshlineNight97, Dawn Racer, MamrieHart, PrairieWinds, d8rkforcen1ght7; Idkimjusthere, Shadow-wolf78, anyctophilian, Dementors, TheOlympus, Beckylouiseee, CrazyLich70, Monuchrome, EeveeEvolutions, OlympianChaos, Complicated-little-Jellie, Dawn Racer, nelliej2324

Reviews:

EmilyF.6: Gracias, chica. If it was the other Avengers you wanted, well then this chapter is probably the one for you. You'll definetly be seeing more of them as the story progresses too so you have that to look forward too :)

Web-HeadSuperFan: Chapter Five, huh? Wow, it wasn't even good yet. Thanks, man! Oh, god I know right. All those OCs get so annoying and it's so blatantly obvious that they're meant to be the fix-all character, the straight laced one who seems to have the solution to every one else's problems and everyone always cares about them and it's like, blah! If I wanted to read about your beautiful (but doesn't know it), poor, sporty, tough, can't seem to find love character, then I would have just read a Twilight book or something. Those usually have about the same quality, don't you think? God, I'm getting salty. Probably cause it's like 3 in the morning and I'm still writing. Probably not the best idea...As for that extra character I'm adding in later, I'll give you a hint. He's from the movies. So TV shows are not included. Oh, also it's a he. And it's strictly MCU so no X-men.

BabyPinkPuppy: Oh, same dude. Fire is one of those things that is just so wonderful to write. Cause it's really something that can affect all of the senses at the same time and it's just. God I love it! Mostly cause I can use it to hurt all of my characters XD Sam really is one of the underrated characters of the MCU. And he's so funny too so it's just, uhh! Also, you'll start to see Peter's progression with that whole physical contact issue he seems to have. Don't you worry. I'm nothing if not consistent with my character development. I can't stand stories without it.

Phoenixhp5: It's gonna take more than a couple words from some bird-brain to sway Peter at this point. You're gonna be seeing a lot more of Natasha too so get ready for that.

lil cometz: Aww, Sam...poor, stupid Sam. It's okay, baby. We still love you.

ParadoxicOrder8: Hehehehe...okay...

HeCallsMeBeloved: You wanna talk about writing so much? This chapter was literally past 30,000 words. It was so big i has to split it in half! In frikkin half! Like, what?

scc4: Well here you go, man. Scream away! *pokes at crown* I am a Queen aren't I? JK, i'm joking XD anyway, Peter is the most precious thing and you'll definetly be seeing more of that as the story progresses so there you go.

doylereborn208: Who doesn't love a bit of natasha?

QwertyWerido: Haha...you wanna talk about cliffhangers? Try this one on for size? Don't worry, I think I might bend my rules for updating with the next chater only cause I'm already done with it now. Duh, I literally had to split up my chapter into parts cause it was so big. Anyway, for that mystery character, I'll give you a hint. He's male and from the movies. So TV shows are out. Also it's only MCU so no X-men.

Seawell: Oh, man. For the dialogue, I finally found out a good way to write it with proper flow and make it not seem to disjointed. Instead of writing out the details along with the actual lines of dialogue altogether, I write the dialogue first, just messy typing with typos and no punctuation. Literally just whatever pops into my head as I have these two characters converse in my head, just thinking :okay, then he would say that. Oh but then she would counter with this" That allows me to get the flow of the dialogue in place. Then I go back and rewrite it with polished grammar and details and all that shit.

Luckias: *grabs bucket and begins to fill with the raining cookies...opens mouth to catch cookies for good measure* No need for time travel, my dear. Here you are.

Yabas: Well, now you get to see Nat and Cap truly interacting with each other. Have fun!

Song of Magic: Well I suggest you get used to it, dude. It's just my style of writing to include realistic pauses in the dialogue so I suggest you learn to live with it XD

TheOlympus: *pats on head* good reader. Great reader. Lovely reader! Go! Have a glorious day you sexy thing you! Frolic!

Ammy of Asgard: For the Homecoming aspect, I'll only be using a little bit of the antagonist plot line. The characters won't be the same and the storyline is still gonna remain my own, but the whole deal with the weapons I can't say wasn't based off of that movie so I guess you can say it is inspired by that. Also, you have no idea how long it actually takes to respond to all of these comments, like DAMN!

FanficFan90: Hope this answers your question

Toni42: Yeah, you're gonna see that the issues brought up in this story aren't gonna be resolved in the span of one chapter. It's gonna take some time, but hey, this story's gonna be around 40+ chapters so whatever! We got time!

PrincessNaina: The Rogues will start to take center stage soon. Just you wait

anyctophilian: Tears...of...joy?

LoonyLoveGood1981: Gracias, and yeah I guess I do have a lot inner reflection. But sometimes when I'm reading stories on this site the characters will do something that is not like themselves and there will be no explanation of the mindset behind that. So I guess I just try to avoid that. Plus I just like to convey where everyone is emotionally, logically, etc with their actions, so that probably isn't gonna change anytime soon.