Officer Scott Travis

"Damn, that storm came out of nowhere," Veromi said, glancing out the window of the Avengers Compound living area. I glanced over to see her leaning against the glass, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

I could only nod in agreement. It had been clear skies one minute, and the next, it was the thunderstorm of the year rolling in right on top of us.

"It's probably their lightning god," Shuri, the young Wakandan princess sprawled out on the couch, commented. She lay relaxed, reading something on a sophisticated looking tablet. "He must have been angry."

"That means they're back," her guard, Nakia, threw in. She stood, twirling that terrifying spear once or twice. "Or they're close. I'm going to the landing pad to greet them. Shuri, would you come with me?"

The princess rolled her eyes but complied, following the warrior through the doors.

"Is it just me, or does it bother you to see the princess of one of the most industrially powerful nations in the world…acts like that?"

Veromi' s eyes danced with sarcasm. "What, should she have been wearing a floor-length dress and sipping tea?"

I blushed, but didn't respond. Veromi scoffed, dropping into the armchair by the fire. It was quiet for a moment, before she softly asked, "Do you think they found him?"

I looked out at the rain and nodded thoughtfully. "If the rain means they're back, they found him. They wouldn't have left without him." I hesitated. "I'm just…afraid of how he is."

Another moment of silence, and then she spoke again. "He reminds you of Matthew, doesn't he?"

I went rigid. I didn't respond.

She sighed. "Scott—"

"Don't, Claire."

Claire didn't.

War Machine—Colonel Rhodes, I guess—and Scott Lang, Ant-Man, entered the room sopping wet. I stood to greet them. "Did you find him? Is he alright?"

Rhodes gave a smile somewhere between relieved and grim. "We did. He's alive, but…he's in, uh…bad shape. Bruce and Tony are working on him in the Med-Bay now. I'll let you know when I know more."

I deflated in relief, sharing a smile with Veromi.

It hadn't been for nothing after all. As long as that kid was here and safe, he stood a chance.

"Are you guys okay?" Veromi asked, eyebrow arched. "You look like a couple of drowned sewer rats."

Unfortunately, I was used to Veromi's brusque attitude, and not at all surprised. I sent Rhodes an apologetic look, but he just smiled, looking amused. "We've been better."

Lang shifted from foot to foot, shivering. Veromi looked him up and down, entirely unimpressed. "I bet."

Colonel Rhodes snorted a laugh, and Lang blushed a little, zeroing in on the fire. He trudged over and plopped down in front of it, a few feet from Veromi's chair. "Rhodes, leave me. I'm never moving again," he mumbled.

Veromi stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head. "Earth's Mightiest Heroes, indeed."

Colonel Rhodes shrugged helplessly, still dripping onto the hardwoods. "He's more of a mascot."

"Hey," Lang argued weakly, but his voice was already thick with sleep.

Colonel Rhodes shook his head. "I'm gonna change and dry off some, then head to the Med Bay to wait for more news. FRIDAY can give you directions if you want to wait in the Medical lobby with the others; they'll probably have more information." He paused. "They should be there soon. We…didn't want to crowd them while they worked."

I nodded in understanding. I'd seen first-hand how hard it got for doctors, having panicked family and friends swarming the place.

Veromi stood, her long, dark hair falling like a curtain. "Guess that means it's time for dinner, hm? We can go after we eat."

"If you're offering, I want some," Lang mumbled from his comatose state on the floor.

"Of course you do."

"Colonel Rhodes, do you want some?" I asked, getting set to follow Veromi to the kitchen.

He smiled wanly. "Just Rhodey. And…tempting, but…I think I'll pass. I'm not much up for food right now."

I gave him a nod and a smile. He smiled in thanks and disappeared around the corner.

"Hey," Lang drawled from the living room, calling after us as we entered the attached kitchen and started pillaging the cabinets. "Heeeeeey. I'm partial to Thai. You like Thai?"

"Good to know, Lang," Veromi shouted, pulling out some garlic and boxed pasta. "I'm Italian, so suck it up."

Lang whined, but said nothing.

So Veromi and I made pasta in the Avengers Compound kitchen. I tried desperately to pretend there wasn't a teenage boy dying rooms away.

Tony Stark

Bruce, Bucky, and I stared dumbfounded, unsure of what to do.

Peter had broken every restraint without breaking a sweat.

He'd snapped them with his bare hands. Delirious and weak, confused, he'd snapped them.

"Guys?" Bucky asked, his hands on Peter's frail shoulders, unsure of how to proceed. "He just…"

"His powers have manifested," Bruce said, voicing everyone's thoughts. After shaking his head, he rushed across the room and started tearing through a clipboard, flipping through page after page. "It shouldn't be possible…"

I dropped to my knees beside him next to Bucky, turning him gently onto his back. "Bucky, take his shoulders," I ordered, slipping my hands under his back and knees. "Help me lift him onto the table without stretching his chest."

Bucky nodded, and we gently settled Peter back onto the table. Bruce cursed suddenly, dropping the clipboard and rushing to Peter's side, eyes scanning his body. It clattered to the floor, papers floating down to rest in a messy pile.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, grabbing two bags of saline from a cabinet blood bank on the wall, hooking one up to his IV.

"That," he said, his eyes settling on Peter's feet. Peter's torn, dirty jeans had ridden up at some point, exposing his raw, burned ankles.

I cursed colorfully, in every language I knew, because shit that was bad.

The flesh was charred black in some places, shiny, blistering red in others. Some of the blisters had become infected and leaked blood-streaked pus.

"They're severe electrical burns," Bruce murmured, hands fisted as he stalked away, retuning with some gauze.

"God," Bucky choked, leaning heavily on the table, white as a sheet. "Is there any part of him they didn't hurt?"

Bruce didn't answer. Neither did I.

It wouldn't be what he wanted to hear, anyways.

Suddenly, Peter's vitals spiked, and he went rigid on the table, convulsing spastically.

"He's seizing!" Bruce shouted, trying to grab hold of his calves to keep his legs still. "Bucky, hold his head! Tony, push two milligrams of Carbamazepine!"

"Double it," Bucky said jerkily, his teeth grit as he tried to keep Peter's head steady. "His metabolism."

"Double it!" Bruce echoed, fighting to keep Peter controlled. "He—agh!"

I whirled around to see Bruce hit the wall hard. He slid down, dazed, and leaned against the wall. His eyes flashed green, and his veins bulged.

"Ohhhhhh boy," I muttered, pushing the Carbamazepine. "Bucky, keep Peter from hurting himself. FRIDAY, get Natasha in here, now!"

"She is on her way, boss," FRIDAY said.

"Big Guy, you gotta calm down," I said, hands held up in a placating gesture as Bruce panted, growing slowly. "If you change here, you'll hurt Peter."

"Protect," he growled, Bruce eye's glowing. "Protect mini friend."

I turned slightly. Peter's convulsions had died down thanks to the medicine, but he was shivering badly. Bucky was trying to finish sterilizing the wounds on his chest, which had begun bleeding again thanks to his seizure, grabbing the suture kit from the cabinet and giving me a tight nod.

"Bruce, you need to calm down, buddy," I said as calmly as I could manage. "I know you're upset—"

A streak of red and black blurred past me, and I froze.

"Hey, Big Guy."

Natasha crouched in front of him. Bruce was rigid, trying desperately to keep the Hulk contained, but Natasha was calm and collected as ever. "Time for a lullaby, hm?"

"No lullaby," Hulk rumbled, growing a bit more.

"Mm? I thought you liked my lullabies." Her voice swayed, the undulations calming. I crossed back to Peter, watching as Bucky carefully sutured the deepest of the cuts, blood pooling on the table. I rounded the table to inspect the infected arm, which was already healing.

"No," Hulk growled, clutching his head. "No Banner!"

"Banner has to help Peter," she said softly. "He needs help and Banner can help him. You helped save him, remember? You got him away from the bad people who hurt him. Now Banner has to fix the hurt."

Hulk glanced over at us, watching Bucky and I try to patch up our broken kid. He turned back to Nat. "Fix?"

"Fix," she said gently, holding out her palm, face up.

Slowly, slowly, he took he hand.

Bruce shrunk back to his original form, his shirt torn. He panted, rubbing his eyes, sagging to the side. Tasha lashed out and steadied him before he could fall. Propping him up against the wall and giving him a small smile. "What happened here?"

Bruce took a deep, shaking breath, and blew it out, wiping his eyes once again. "Peter's powers are…well, he has them now. They're not dormant anymore. He accidentally kicked me across the room, and I guess that Other Guy got kind of freaked out."

Nat's eyes flashed, and she stood, stalking towards us. I had moved to his ankles and was cleaning them as gently as I could, but Peter continued to twitch, his expression scrunched up in pain. She stared at his bruised face for a moment before gently brushing his sweat plastered hair back from his forehead.

The display of affection was brief, though. "You need to call Helen, Tony."

"I know," I sighed. "I'm going to. I don't know if she's fixed the Cradle—"

"Doesn't matter. She can help you. None of you are doctors."

I sighed through my nose, barely refraining from rolling my arms. "I forget how pushy you are when you're cranky," I muttered, flinching when she turned steely eyes on me. "Yeesh. FRIDAY, send an urgent message to Helen Cho. Fly her in from wherever she is. Tell her it's an emergency."

"Message delivered," FRIDAY responded.

Bucky cursed suddenly, and I turned to face him. "Do we have pain medication that works on him long-term?"

I didn't move for a second. Nat went rigid. Bruce sighed and shakily stood, leaning against the counter before getting his legs working again. "No. We didn't—no. We were sure his powers wouldn't evolve until he'd finished growing, which isn't for roughly another ten years. The regular pain meds still worked on him if we gave it to him more often. His metabolism is probably even faster now that they've fully manifested."

"Can you use mine?" Bucky pled, glancing at Peter's face. "Or Steve's? He's in pain. He keeps flinching."

Bruce and I shared a look. "I—we can try," I said hesitantly. "The risks—"

"We can give him half a dose," Bruce conceded, struggling over to the pharmaceutical area of the Med Bay and rummaging through one of the drawers containing pain relievers. Based on the team's skillset and physicality, we'd branded special pain relief for each member. "See how he reacts to it. Helen can help us find a permanent solution when she gets here."

"Which will be in approximately twelve hours, as she is still in South Korea," FRIDAY interjected. "She is additionally requesting extra compensation, as she is abandoning a ground-breaking project that was supposed to be tested tonight."

I let out a breath through my nose as Robo Cop sagged. "It's gonna be a long night."

Peter Parker

I was in a bed.

That was the first thing I realized. I wasn't on the ground, or—or, on that table—

Don't go there.

Oh, no. Had they succeeded? Had they cut my arm off, and then stuck me in a room somewhere to recover until they brainwashed me? Oh God oh God, I couldn't feel anything, what if my arm was gone and I just didn't realize it, what if they'd already started, what—

"Peter, calm down," someone said to my right, and I jerked violently, pain flaring at my injuries, and I recognized the voice—and, there was a sound? Like an animal—

"Bucky?" I sobbed, drawing a cough from my abused lungs. Despite my exhaustion, I forced my eyes open, reaching out blindly with my right arm, feeling him take it firmly. Blurry, ragged, and exhausted though he was, he was there. "St-Stella?"

"Hey," he said gently, pushing some hair out of my eyes. He smiled gently, his eyes shimmering in relief. "Hey. I've got you. I'm right here."

Stella was in my lap, meowing frantically, gazing at me with nothing short of desperation. When my eyes settled on her, she bounded up my chest and burrowed into my neck. She didn't weight more than a few pounds, but agony flared over my chest. I hissed, the stinging pain reminding me of—of the knife, and of—

Stop.

I looked around frantically—I was in the same bed I'd been in after Alexander had hurt me, and I'd slipped into a coma. The familiarity was somewhat comforting, but it still looked too much—too much like—

Don't. STOP.

My eyes went immediately to my left arm.

It was dead weight, wrapped in several layers of white bandages.

But it was there.

I started crying.

"Peter?" Bucky asked, sounding worried. He shifted forward and sat down on the bed, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Peter, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"You found me," I said, and though the words felt familiar, I couldn't remember where from. "You found me, you stopped them—you—"

"Kid, breathe," he said, looking concerned. The heart monitor I distantly registered starting wailing, beeping hard and fast. "Peter. Calm down, alright? Do you not remember seeing me in the base? You woke up, you talked to me. Do you remember that?"

Despite my shaking limbs, I tried to sit up, my face pinched in pain and confusion. Bucky helped me, settling me back against a few pillows. My ribs protested, but I ignored it as best I could, on the verge of hysteria. Stella pounced to my side again, refusing to move from my line of sight. "I—no—no, I remember that—J-Jason came and t-took me to that—that room—"

And the dam broke. The hysteria that had been settled firmly on the cliff said 'eff it' and jumped, taking my sanity for the ride, and I started panting and heaving huge breaths, clutching at Bucky like he was about to be ripped away just like everyone else—

"Peter." Bucky said, but his tone was different from before. It was stern, and strong. I looked at him and he stared back with hard eyes, taking my shoulders. "Listen to me. You are not there. You're in Avengers Medical. Every Avenger is here. We're all here, plus some others that helped us get you out. Jason is dead." I jerked at the words, staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes. "He is. Nat shot him; I saw it myself. We have General Ross in custody, in a holding cell three hundred feet underground with no exit but one we know of. You are safe. You are protected. I'm not going to let anything happen else to you."

I sat for a moment, panting, staring at his earnest eyes and his strong, sure posture. The beeping of the heart monitor quieted slowly, and I fell forward into him without a word, shivering. He wrapped his arms around me and held my head against his shoulder where it had landed, buried there, even as I cried. It reminded me to that first time I'd passed out, that time I'd finally broken down and accepted that they cared about me, and accepted their love and protection.

"Thank you," I sobbed, clutching at his back with my right arm, my left still useless beside me. "Thank you. I was—so scared—"

I jerked back, breaking into a coughing fit so violent it doubled me over. Bucky flinched, startled, but quickly shifted so that he was supporting my torso, rubbing soothing circles on my back. "You're okay," he whispered gently, and I saw him press the call button between coughs. "You're alright. Breathe, Peter."

Once the coughing stopped, I panted, listing to the side against Bucky's chest, completely drained. I closed my eyes.

"You're gonna be okay, kiddo," Bucky said softly, his voice just barely shaking. "You're gonna be just fine."

Leaning against him, pushing away the terror still lingering in my mind's shadows, I drifted off. Stella curled up in my lap, warm, real, there. Just like Bucky. Despite the fear of leaving myself vulnerable, of letting myself sleep, Bucky was there. So it was okay to sleep.

At least, as I slipped away, that's what I told myself.

Bucky Barnes

Sixty years of my life just packed its bags and up and bolted.

This kid was gonna send me to an early grave.

When he drifted off against me and I tried leaning him gently back against the pillows, I saw tears well behind his closed eyes and fall, and he made a small noise of fear.

I sighed, despite the horror of seeing him so worked up, and smiled wanly. I shifted my position on the bed, scooting up along his right side and leaning back against the headboard, then leaning his back against the left half of my chest, supporting his head on my shoulder, curling my left arm around his chest. I hadn't realized how tense he was, even in sleep, until he relaxed into me, breathing softly through parted lips, his broken nose swollen.

A lot of what he'd said had been gibberish, panicked ramblings, but I understood enough to make my blood boil. The hand not wrapped around him curled into a fist, and I leaned my head back against the wall above his bed, closing my eyes.

"What happened?" Bruce asked as he skidded to a halt beside the bed after swinging around the doorway like something straight out of an obstacle course.

I cracked an eye to look at him and sat up, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Nothing. He woke up for a minute and had a coughing fit, but it passed."

Bruce's eyes shot up, and he started checking every damn monitor in the place. "He woke up? Is he…is he okay?"

I shook my head. "No." No, he wasn't effing okay.

Bruce stilled, looking at Peter's lax face for a moment. "Do you think he will be?" He asked quietly.

Looking down at the shaggy mop of curly hair resting against my chest, my gut turned. I tightened my arm around him, emotions stirring and heaving and bleeding into each other. Anger and hatred and terror and grief and relief and love and protectiveness and bitterness all warring for dominance in my chest, tight knots of stress beating each other for priority. I didn't know if he'd ever be okay again.

Peter was not…easy to terrify.

Frighten, maybe. Scare a little. He was scared of a lot of things, for good reason.

But few things terrified him. And when he'd awoken for those brief few minutes, he had been utterly panicked.

He'd said You stopped them. I couldn't even begin to imagine the context for that statement, and I didn't want to.

And I told Bruce the truth.

"I don't know."

Bruce stared for a moment and sighed. "I…guess I kind of expected that." He put his hands in his pockets, looking at me with concern. "You don't look so good yourself, buddy. Do you need anything?"

I gave him a half-smile. "No, thanks. When's your doctor friend getting here?"

"Should be within two hours," Bruce said, glancing back at Peter and then fiddling with his IV. "Was he in pain when he woke up?"

"I'm not sure," I replied honestly. "He was too frantic for me to get a straight answer."

The thought of Peter being as worked up as he had been must have unsettled Bruce as much as it had me, because he flinched at the words, but didn't reply.

"Is Sam okay?" I asked suddenly, feeling like a complete jackass for not asking sooner.

Bruce smiled knowingly. "He's fine. Already up and being a complete terror. Steve's trying his best to keep him in bed, but he's insisting to see Peter. I had to knock him out before he tore his stitches."

I scoffed. Sounded like Sam. "Damn idiot. Too many feathers in his brain."

"I'll tell him you said that. Call me if you need anything," he said with a small, sad smile, and wandered out of the room, lightly shutting the door.

…

The next visitor was that officer from the NYPD. The guy. Not the woman who acted like she'd kill you with a stiletto.

She and Nat needed to start a club.

He came in hesitantly, shyly, and I cracked an eye in his direction, still leaning my head against the wall, trying to rest. Peter hadn't moved a muscle, so I hadn't, either.

"Hey," he said quietly, glancing at Peter, staring at his bruised face and bandaged arm for just a second too long. He was probably thrown by the injuries. "How is he?"

"Alright," I said noncommittally. I was grateful to him, and he'd helped us find Peter much faster than we could have alone, but I didn't trust him quiet yet. "Can I do anything for you?" My tone wasn't dismissive, per se, but it didn't extend any invitations.

He shook his head awkwardly, coming in to glance at the monitors. "Uh, no. Just wanted to check up on him; Colonel—Rhodey said it was okay." I gave him a light smirk. Rhodey was never one for titles. "Veromi and I cooked a little. Pasta. Do you want anything?"

I glanced at Peter. I was hungry, but I didn't want to move. I was afraid I'd wake him. "I'm okay. Thanks for the offer."

I was reasonably certain that was a fairly clear conversation ender, but he just nodded and stuck around, trying very hard to not look as awkward as I'm sure he felt. It hurt to watch, honestly.

"I wanted to apologize," he blurted.

I raised an eyebrow, turning my head in his direction, making sure I didn't jostle Peter. Stella snuffled softly, but stayed curled up in Peter's lap. "What for?"

He shifted from foot to foot once, then raised his head and looked me in the eye. "For not bringing Peter in the second I saw him. Maybe…if I had, he wouldn't have been caught by those guys."

For a second, I stared, incredulous. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "What brought this on?"

"In the precinct," he said with a sigh. "You said I shouldn't have let him walk away, and you were right."

Oh, I thought. The memory resurfaced hazily, lack of sleep blurring it around the edges. I had said that, hadn't I?

"It's alright," I said with a tight, diplomatic smile. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it was true," he conceded. "It's in my job description to do the opposite of that."

I hummed but said nothing. He was right, but I shouldn't have said it like I did. I'd been angry and worried about Peter. When I told Travis as much, he shook his head. "Not your fault. It was completely understandable."

Another conversation ender, yet no exit.

I sighed, and was honestly about to ignore him and doze off again, when he spoke, softly. "He's a good kid, isn't he?"

For a moment, I didn't respond. Then I smiled. "The best."

He nodded, and the Winter Soldier's training allowed me to notice the way his Adam's Apple bobbed ever so slightly, and the way his eyes misted just the tiniest bit.

"I'll leave you to it," he said with a small smile. "I'll probably be around for another day or so, just to make sure he's okay, but I've taken too much time off work, and I haven't seen my family. I need to get back."

I nodded, biting the bullet. "Thank you for all your help."

He smiled. "I'm just glad he's safe."

As he exited, I couldn't help but think, Me, too.

I took stock of the motionless kid in my arms and breathed a sigh, pressing my lips to his hair.

"You're gonna be okay," I whispered sternly. "You are."

He couldn't hear me. I knew that. But I convinced myself he could, just so I wouldn't be reassuring myself.

Officer Scott Travis

I exhaled shakily as I exited the room, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.

"Beautiful," Veromi's sarcastic voice drawled from where she leaned against the doorway. "Simply moving." But we'd worked together long enough for me to know that she was concerned.

I sat heavily in one of the waiting room chairs, staring at the immaculate white tile. "You were right."

"Yes, I was," she said, sitting next to me. "I often am. You'll have to be more specific."

I managed a thin smile. "About Matthew." I closed my eyes. "He does. Remind me of him."

Veromi didn't say anything, just placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's never easy," she said quietly. "Losing a child."

I knew Veromi understood. She'd miscarried two years into her marriage. In the end, they divorced amicably, but she never really was the same.

She'd lost her baby, but I'd lost my boy. My sixteen-year-old, blue-eyed, tall, athletic, amazing boy.

I would remember every word of that night for the rest of my life.

He and two of his friends had been walking home from soccer practice one evening. Two gang members—a Combat 18 member and a Folk Nation member—started going at it, beating each other senseless. One had pulled a pistol, fired, and missed.

Matthew was dead before he hit the ground.

I was on-duty. I remember Veromi and I pulling up to the scene. Some of my colleagues were already there, speaking in hushed voices, glancing at me as I got out of the car.

I saw the body on the ground, and I knew.

I couldn't see him. He was covered with a sheet. His belongings were nowhere in sight. There was no indication that it was Matthew.

But I felt it.

A part of me died that day. After six long years of recovering, I still knew I'd never be whole.

I buried my face in my hands and breathed. "No," I whispered. "It's not."

"You saved these people, Scott," she said softly, her hand firm against my back. "You spared them that kind of pain. That kid in there is alive because you were reckless enough to suggest to the high and mighty Avengers that they partner with us lowly street cops, and we found the prick who gave us the location."

I smiled into my hands. Veromi had such a mouth.

"None of this is your fault. You're the reason he's here."

"You helped," I muttered, the crushing despair lifting slightly at our friendly banter.

She scoffed. "Oh, how gracious of you. I thought I was going to have to beat that out of you."

I smiled slightly, lifting my head to stare at the door to Peter's room, feeling my shoulders ease just slightly.

God, Matthew, I thought. I hope you're alright. I hope you're up there, in heaven. I know you are. I hope…I hope you're proud of your old man.

And I couldn't be sure—I could never be sure—but a tiny voice may have just ghosted, Always.

A/N: I'm so, so, so so so sososososososososo sooooooooooooo sorry.

For real, I feel really horrible for leaving you guys hanging as long as I did, and I know this is all filler and pretty short and just ugh but finals are coming up and real life is just a BEAST that NO HUMAN CAN TAME and I'm just kind of trying my best X'D

Okay, but I hope you liked this chapter even though it wasn't very good! Thanks so much for tolerating my updating speed and sticking with the story :)

A couple notes: RIP STAN LEE. We lost a real superhero. His memory will live on for DECADES.

Also. How did you feel about my going a little more in depth into Officers Veromi and Travis? I felt like giving them some of the spotlight, since they're a big part of why Peter's safe :)

Also, to my LOVELY REVIEWERS! You make my heart happy: Ravenclaw Black Mamba, Song No Found, Melancholy's Sunshine, SkyDreamer12, mpathy, TwilightGlow3, DJPaige3, Luzith, niyah606, BabyPinkPuppy, procrastinatingmushroomfangirl, Supergurkan, monkeybaby, Jhessill, CaptainDingbat, ANovelAddict, PrincessNaina, wolfcathope, Story5, screechyfangirl, AleuStark, The Striking Storms, The Violent Kurumi, PhantomGoat13, Wisdomsqueen, Andipandi5, TC Howl, carajiggirl, StormShadow13, Guest, Grnauman, FangirlingInside16, Tiff, Myxes, Tightpants182, katwinchester, doglovere500, Navyangel85, Guest, Timeless Euphoria, Caleo4evah, ALonesomeAuthor, and Mojomonster!

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Okay. Next chapter, Helen Cho! Some more medical stuff and angst, but also…some long awaited fluff :)