Chapter 55 - Time To Take a Shot
His breathing echoed in his own ears, fast and shallow. The world around him seemed so detached.
"Peter." It was like the man was speaking through a think mist, his voice somewhat muffled to Peter's ears. "Drop the gun, Peter. Come on, it's over."
His hands were numb as he looked up at what truly turned out to be Hawkeye. He hadn't imagined it then. No, that face, that scowl, eyebrows knotted closely together. It was him. The man was only a few steps away.
"Peter. Drop the gun. Please"
The gun. Peter's eyes shot back to his trembling hand that held the gun still pointed at where the Soldier had fallen. His mouth was dry, panting, and now that he saw the weapon in his hand, his arm was getting heavy. It was so quiet around them. Or maybe that was just his shock, shutting out all the noise.
He had shot someone. The vibrations of the recoil still seemed to be vibrating in his very bones. He had tried to be faster, to get there before the Soldier would overpower Rogers.
He had to stop the man. The assassin. If... if he didn't... if he managed to kill Rogers then Peter might die. Like Mr. Stark's parents. His... his own...
Deep breaths. His brain was spiraling. He had no other choice. When he had rounded the corner of the alley, he found them in the middle of the street, Barnes on top of Rogers. Captain America pinned to the floor by his friend. There was blood on the asphalt were Rogers' head lay. His arms that had first hit so strongly were so much less effective now. They only swatted at the Soldier's body, his legs twisting underneath him not finding purchase on the street, unable to get out from under. He was losing.
Peter had screamed at them, desperate to get the Soldier's attention on himself, to provide the Captain with a window of opportunity, but he couldn't push himself to do more than that, not at first. Had been frozen in fear, the Soldier's hands around the Captain's throat were lodged so tightly, not just his metal hand, his human hand as well. The same hand that had held Peter up by his throat, had almost choked the life out of him only minutes earlier. The same hand that had strangled Maria Stark as well.
As Rogers' attempts to free himself got weaker and weaker, his legs stopping to move altogether, Peter forced himself out of his fear. He couldn't stand by and watch it happen. Being able to do the things that he could, when you didn't and then the bad things would happen... If he did nothing this would be on him.
Shaky legs made him advance. He put both his hands on the man, first pulling at his shirt to get him off balance, which did nothing but make the fabric tear. He could just about dodge the Soldier's elbow that was aimed at his stomach, then again at his face. Glimpses of the Captain only heightened Peter's anxiety. The man's eyes were unfocused, hands clawing at the Soldier's around his neck. Peter reached around him, put his own hands on the Soldier's arms, trying to pull but his left arm was useless. He scrambled back as one of the Soldier's hands left Roger's throat and swung a punch at Peter instead. It only hit his shoulder but hard enough for him to fall back. As he skidded across the hard asphalt, just for a moment he stayed down, trying to collect himself. He had no mask. They were out in the open. With only one of his arms working there was no way he could overpower him. There was no way he could stop this.
Despair was weighing him down, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood on his arm. From where the Soldier had shot—
He scrambled to his feet and limped towards the alley where he had made an exit from his apartment. Desperately he sifted through the debris that had fallen out of his apartment along with the Super Soldiers until he found it.
A shaking hand around the gun, Peter stepped back out onto the street, the Soldier's own weapon in hand that he had flung from the apartment. He didn't know what to aim for, didn't know how to do this. His finger curled around the trigger, aiming the barrel up in the air. His arm vibrated from the recoil. He had hoped the sound would startle the Soldier, but someone like him didn't distract so easily. If anything his hands closed around the Captain's throat a little tighter. It was no good. A split second later, his arm still shaking from the first shot, he pulled the trigger again.
He had just stood there, unsure if one bullet was enough, if they were safe now as he had watched the Soldier slump forward, blood oozing out from underneath his right shoulder blade.
He had shot someone. In the back.
His ears were ringing from the pang of the gun, everything else felt numb. He was in shock, right? He just shot someone, surely—
His arm shot back up again, gun at the ready. Barnes had just turned around. No. No, he hadn't turned. It was the Captain trapped underneath him that had rolled his friend off his chest, was now leaning over him. With some effort, he rolled the Soldier over so he came to lie on his front again, then pressed something against his back. A piece of cloth, or something. Rogers was coughing, wheezing, his whole body shaking. Barton made for them, kneeled down on the other side of Barnes.
"We need to go, Cap. We need to go right now."
Barton wasn't speaking too loudly. Still, Peter could hear him. Maybe he wasn't in shock after all. Maybe his senses were just fine.
The Captain's face was bloody, his clothes torn. He wasn't even in his usual uniform, just jeans and a shirt that was now ripped and bloody.
"Where... where the... the hell were you? What... what—"
He spotted Peter from a distance. A quick glance exchanged with Barton and the archer's hands took over, pressed tightly onto the Soldier's bullet wound.
"Peter." He coughed deeply, his lungs lunging at the chance for oxygen. He was shaky on his legs, not unlike Peter, took a couple of steps then stopped when Peter tightened the hold of the gun.
Fear shot through him. He couldn't think of anything other than how he had just shot Captain America's best friend. He had just shot the man that had stood between Rogers and Mr. Stark. The one Rogers had so fiercely protected that Mr. Stark had almost paid for it with his own life.
"Stay... stay away from me, you—" His voice was thin, his throat hurt like hell. The dull throbbing in his arm was easier to ignore. He did have to be in shock then. His arm should be killing him even as it just hung beside him, blood slowly dropping onto the street below.
Rogers had both his hands up in the air, his stare only on Peter.
"It's... it's gonna be a'right, son."
"Don't!"
Rogers inclined his head, lips pressed into a thin line. His voice didn't sound much better than Peter's and with his head a little tilted, the marks on his neck stood out bright red. The Captain's eyes flickered to his left, then to his right. There were people around them. Peter only realized that now. People, phones in their hands, recording.
"I... He just came into the apartment. He... he attacked me and then May, I... I only... he was... he was choking me."
"I know." Rogers nodded. He could hear the sirens in the distance, too. Peter could see it in his eyes. Big blue eyes, pleading with him. "Just... just put down the gun. He's... He's not gonna... not gonna hurt you... not anymore."
Peter bit his lip hard. His knees were starting to shake as well. Or maybe... maybe they had been this whole time and he just realized it now. He didn't move though, kept the gun pointed right to the Captain's chest. The recording from that Siberian bunker flashed in front of his eyes. Rogers' shield as it hit the faceplate first, then the arc.
"'m not gonna hurt you, either. I... I would never hurt you, Peter."
"Shut up!" Peter pulled his left hand up to the gun as well, anything to stop his arm from shaking, but he couldn't hold it there. Pain pulled all the way up to his left shoulder now. "Is he... Is he dead?"
"No."
"He's..." Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but every movement started to hurt more and more. "He's bleeding a lot."
"So are you, kid."
"Don't... don't call me that!"
"We need... need t' go now, Peter. Drop the gun an'... and come with us."
His eyes widened. "N—no!"
The police were getting closer. His pulse was racing, not slowing down in the slightest. He had shot someone. Maybe killed someone. What would they do with him?
"Someone who... who loves you very much as—asked me t' ge' you somewhere safe. You know, who... who I'm talking about, right?"
Peter shook his hand. That wasn't possible. "No... no, you're lying."
"I swear, I'm no'. I... I gave him m' words that you would be okay. That I wouldn't—"
"Yo—your word means nothing... nothing to me! Not to.. to me, not to him, it means nothing!"
Rogers didn't flinch, he just stood there, head held high like he had never betrayed Mr. Stark. Like he wasn't protecting a criminal. A murderer.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, too low to carry. "Peter, you can't stay here. W—we need to leave right... right now. You know wha' they do t' people that are... are different. We need t' go."
His arm was getting so heavy but he couldn't... he couldn't let them get away with it. Barnes might have killed May. They never took responsibility for anything, did they? He couldn't do that. He wasn't like them. He wouldn't run. Couldn't. Not with his knees shaking like they were anyway.
"Cap..." Barton was still kneeling next to the Soldier, blood seeping out between his fingers, where he pressed that piece of cloth onto the Barnes' wound. "If we don't go now, the cops will—."
"We can't... can't leave him." Rogers' eyes didn't stray from Peter. "Take Bucky an... and go. I'll stay with him."
"I... Steve, I can't carry him, I can't— Fuck." Sirens were coming closer. They were almost there.
His body twitched, Peter's senses flaring. He looked to the right, saw her slowly approaching. For just a moment, he almost pointed the weapon at her instead, but then kept it on Rogers.
"Peter." She walked right into the path of the gun, put herself between him and Rogers. "We need to leave. Right now."
"Nat, ge' out of here. It's fine." Rogers stepped up behind her, got so close, Peter had to retreat a few steps. "You know wha' to do."
"It is fine because Peter's gonna come with us." The Widow's eyes were wide. "Come on now."
"No!" Peter shook his head, not sure where to look anymore. "Stay away from me!"
"There are cameras on us from I don't know how many angles." Rogers' voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "It was self-defense."
"New York is not a 'Stand Your Ground' state." The Widow shook her hand. "They'll use him and if they find out—"
"Defense of a third person then. He'll be fine. I'll... I'll make sure of it." The man blew out a deep slow breath, like he was fighting pain which, well, maybe he was. "Nat, you're no use t' us in the Raft."
"And you are?" She turned on him, face set.
Rogers shook his head. "Look around you. It's too late. Go!"
"Fuck." She turned back to Peter one last time. Her voice was low, too low to echo in the street. She spoke just to Peter. "He'll kill us if they get their hands on you. I'm here for him. I told you, didn't I? That I'm here to protect you for him!"
"Well, where... where were you when... when his best friend tried t—to kill me then?" His voice was shrill and thin. "He... he shot at May, too, she... I don't even... I don't even know—" The sob bubbled out of his throat and he couldn't do anything about it.
She looked like she was about to drag him out of the street by force. But maybe she suddenly remembered that he was stronger than she would ever be. Maybe she was just not going to risk her own neck by staying a moment longer as the police cars were now close enough for even her to see.
With a strong curse, she turned away, motioned for Barton to follow her and both assassins ducked into separate alleyways.
"When they get here, you... you need to cooperate, Peter. You hear me? Just do wha... what they say. You can't..." His voice dropped even lower. "You know you can't resist. No' if you want a chance at them not knowing."
"I..." They would arrest him. Peter's heart raced painfully fast.
"You'll be fine. He'll come for you."
"No." Peter shook his head, between his fear, the pain in his neck, and his tears threatening to spill over it was difficult to say anything, even whispered. "He's... he's gone. He's gone."
"He's on his... his way right now. He will get you out, just don't—" Rogers swallowed hard. "If they find out, they'll use you against him."
"Wha—"
"Shh." Rogers shook his head. "Quiet now."
Within moments, they were swarmed. Five cars had pulled up simultaneously, officers closing a circle around them.
"Drop the gun, boy! Hands behind your head!"
He did drop it like a sudden electric pulse had shot through it. His hands flew up behind his head. Well, well one of them. The other... the other didn't cooperate as much.
"Behind your head I said!" There were at least six of them on him, even more that pointed their weapons at Rogers.
"I... I can't, I—" He was crying now. He hadn't realized until he started talking. His voice shook so strongly.
"BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"
"He can't!" Rogers both of his own hands high in the air stepped even closer to Peter, almost growling at them.
The sound of a shot rang among the buildings and Peter twitched, curling forward around himself. When he looked up, Rogers still stood tall, unmoving. His face balled up with pain and anger, but he still stood tall, the electrodes of the tazer still stuck to his arm.
The cops were frozen in silent shock, but not for long.
"On... on the ground! Get on the ground now!"
Rogers held eye contact with Peter throughout, was always a tiny move ahead of him getting to his knees first, almost guiding him. As Peter's hands hit the ground the police charged forward. He had hands on him, pressing his face against the warm asphalt.
"Hey! He's just a kid! What the— urgh." Rogers grunted.
"Shut the fuck up, traitor."
They pulled Peter's arms back, cuffed him so tightly the metal was cutting into the bruises the Soldier had left on his skin.
#
The rush of the wind around him was completely drowned out by the beat of his heart. His pulse was so high it had triggered FRIDAY's health protocol and he had to override his own code to make her hide the red flashing number from the suit's head-up display. He knew his heart was racing faster than was healthy for him, thank you very much. He could see the city in the distance. He couldn't fly as fast anymore, not at the low altitude he had to hold to make his descend into town. Just a few more minutes. He'd be in Queens in just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes.
"Sir, social media activity is spiking around New York City. Increased mentions of the Rogues and Captain America."
"Fuck." He had to remember to breathe. If he didn't breathe that big brain of his was even less useless than it had been recently. "Show me what—"
"Sir, incoming call from Miss Romanoff."
"Answer!"
"Tony, you need to stay away." Her voice was so low, he could just about make out the words.
"Are you fucking kidding me? No way. No. Way! Please tell me Barnes isn't there? Have you seen the kid? Is he alright? He's alright, right?" His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He should have never fucking left the city.
"We... We got there just in time, but not soon enough."
"No, I... Oh, god, what—" This was all on him.
"Authorities have the kid in lock up. They have Steve and Barnes. May Parker, too." She paused. She paused like all that wasn't the worst of it and Tony already felt like fainting. "Listen, they ran the boy's prints, Tony. They know it's Aiden."
There is was. His stomach seemed to drop the remaining 15,000 feet.
"They—they... no. That's... No, why would they run his prints! They can't just—"
"He shot Barnes. They—"
"He WHAT?"
"Listen, they took him to the precinct, then straight to the hospital. I'm there right now. You can't show up here. If they find out you know, they'll dig. They might find out about everything and you'll go to jail. Or worse the Raft for violating the Accords. His secret, Siberia, everything can come out if we make a mistake."
His heart was about to jump out of his chest. "I don't give a fuck if they lock me—"
"Tony, you can't help him, if you're in prison."
The New York Skyline was rising up in front of him. He had to see his kid. He had to be there.
She gave a gentle huff on the other end of the line. "I promise, if things go south I'll get the boy to you and you can head for the border or I don't know where. Just trust me, Tony."
"He's just a kid, Nat. I can't do nothing. I can't leave him alone again."
"He's not alone. I will hang up now. I will try and talk to him. We'll figure this out. Do not show your face here before the detectives call you. They will."
Panic. Panic was surging through his veins and he had no idea who to reign it in. "They can't check his DNA, Nat. If they check for it, they'll know... they'll figure out everything."
"I know. You want something to do, get to the Compound and try to think of how we get around the DNA. Clint will meet you there. I can stall them for a while. They can't go to May Parker for permission to get a sample. We can stall, but we'll need a way to work this somehow."
She hung up before he could answer. His mind was racing. The kid... he shot Barnes? That... was the guy dead? Did he—
"FRIDAY, to the Compound. Call Pepper."
He leaned into the direction change of the suit. The dial tone had barely rung for a second time when Pepper picked up.
"Tony, are you there? Is he okay?"
"Romanoff told me to stay away. I've changed course to the Compound."
"The Compound? But—"
"She told me he shot Barnes."
She sounded almost breathless. "It's all over the internet, Tony. Barnes and Rogers fighting in the street. Barnes was... was choking him, almost... almost killed him. Then Addy—Peter... he turned up, tried to pull him off first and then when he couldn't, he ran off and came back with a gun and... and shot Barnes."
"He... he shot him? He... The kid didn't manage to pull Barnes off?" Panic. More of it. "But... but he should—"
"He... Tony, he..." Her voice shook. "His arm. There was blood everywhere, he... Oh god, it was awful."
Tony felt the moisture roll from his eyes. "Fuck. They. Shit." He was hurt. Badly. None of them would know how to take that pain away. He would suffer and they couldn't because if they found out about his mutation... "They took his prints. They know, Pep. They know it's Aiden."
The line stayed quiet. He could see Pepper right in front of him, head buried in her hands, fighting to keep it together like only she could.
"Pep, I need you. What do I do?"
She let out a deep breath, her voice husky. "Do we... do we know how much they know?"
"They don't know about his secret. They will if they try to confirm the prints with a DNA test. They need consent for that, right? Peter's or, or someone's. They can't just—"
"They'll get a court order. Then it doesn't matter if he refuses. They'll just do it."
Tony bit the inside of his cheeks. New York City was flying by underneath him. Somewhere down there his son was stuck, alone at the mercy of the very people that had tried to catch him for months. He could only hope that they didn't know more already.
Pepper's breathing was labored. She was fighting to keep her composure, to be strong, he could tell. "We can't bribe the lab. We could try but I don't think that can be contained."
There had to be something. Tony blew out a deep breath. "What if I hack the results and just change them."
"Then there's still a lab employee who knows that his DNA has mutant genes. He might talk and they'll just run it again."
"Well, fuck that dude, we could just—"
"If you're about to suggest we could 'just kill him' I'll have a mental breakdown. Completely, no holding back."
Tony closed his eyes and bit his lip harder.
Pepper's efforts to keep calm, long deep breaths kept him somewhat sane. "What about May Parker?"
"In the hospital." Tony shook his head. Not his concern. "What if we swap out the sample?"
"With what?"
He wished he could rub a hand over his face, get rid of some of his frustration and the sticky feeling of tears drying on his skin. "I don't know. I could... I could talk to Helen. Maybe... maybe we can get something synthetic that matches the DNA on file. Nat already weaseled her way into the hospital."
"Yes, try that."
"FRIDAY, tell Helen Cho I need her asap. ASAP as in the world's coming to an end and nothing else matters more than her meeting me in the lab."
"Right away, Boss."
"I'm less than 5 minutes out from the Compound. I'll talk to Cho, then message Natasha."
"It's still more than two hours till I get to New York, Tony."
He nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Okay."
"I love you, Tony. We'll figure this out. We'll keep him safe."
"I... yeah. Yeah, we just... we just have to."
She didn't hang up and Tony couldn't bring himself to disconnect the call either.
"Do you want me to stay on the line?"
He could almost spot the Compound in the distance. He needed her here. They should have never fucking left. He was such an idiot.
"Just for a minute," he almost whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him over the suit's flight noises.
She told him again, that she loved him. That they would figure this out. That if anyone could figure this out it was them. The universe owed them. After everything, the universe just fucking owed them a win. They would keep his son safe. They would turn this whole shit show around.
Tony sighed. "I love you too, Pep."
"Keep me in the loop."
"I will." He hung up the call as FRIDAY guided the suit into the landing shoot to his lab.
"Sir, Doctor Cho is on her way to the lab."
Tony cracked his neck. Finally out of the suit he rubbed both hands over his face, getting rid of all the obvious traces his emotional state had left on his face.
He rushed through the door into the hallway, on the lookout for Helen Cho. She just came around the corner then. "Tony, what's wrong?"
"It's the Spiderling. I need your help and fast."
Just a few steps behind her, Barton followed. Tony's anxiety spiked not just with the spy back at the Compound in general. "What the fuck happened, Barton?"
The man's face was tense, even for his standards. "What the fuck didn't happen?"
"Don't fucking test me, Barton! I'm dying to punch someone in the face and I wouldn't pass on you."
"Fuck you, Tony," he spat out, his voice soaked in vitriol. "Where the fuck have you been? Why the fuck did you leave your son behind? What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Tony's whole body was pulsing with anger and frustration. "Fucking asshole, you left your whole fucking family behind to help Rogers cover for a fucking murderer! You think you can lecture me on responsibility!"
His hands were grabbing fist-fulls of Barton's shirt. He didn't even remember advancing and reaching for the man. Barton pushed him away, then swung for him, his rage making him miss.
"Stop! What the— Stop, both of you!" Maria Hill had pushed herself between the two men. "What the fuck!"
"Tony!" Helen Cho had retreated, her back pressed against the wall of the hallway. "You said... you said you needed my help. For the boy."
Shame rolled over him like an ice-cold shower. There he was, fist-fighting when his kid needed him.
Agent Hill looked back and forth between them. "Alright, you two go ahead then. Clint." She swallowed hard. "You and me, we will go that way..." She indicated the other direction. "...and talk about what the fuck is going on."
Tony turned, eyes wide and set on Barton. People at the Compound didn't know yet. Not about Spider-Man. Minus Helen and two of her people. Definitely not about his son.
Resignation made the archer's face smoothen. "You know I hate passing up on a friendly catch-up, Maria. I'm kind of needed in that lab though."
Lips pressed tightly onto each other, Agent Hill looked back and forth between them. "That was an order, agent, not a friendly request."
"Former agent." Barton shrugged.
"You kind of lost that loophole when you came out of retirement to help create a shitload of paperwork and headaches for us, Clint."
"Maria, I..." Tony gave his lip one hard bite. For Peter. For Addy, he needed Barton to make this right. "I need him in the lab. Few hours I guess and then a friendly chat can be—"
"What the fuck is going on here?" She looked back and forth between them, her patience wearing thin.
"It's..." It was all gonna come out now anyway. If the NYPD knew, then... well, they knew some things. Not everything. Not yet. "It's about my son, Maria."
Agent Hill's jaw dropped. Helen Cho didn't fare much better. "Oh... oh, god, he—" Helen clapped a hand over her mouth. Her face so plainly showed how all the pieces were falling into place for her.
"Your... your son?" Hill shook her head to grasp what he was saying. "I... what?"
"It's... it's a long story. All you need to know right now is that Barnes went after him. HYDRA was hired to kill him, but, well." Tony blew out a deep breath. "Anyway, the police has him now and I need to get him out. I need to get him out right away. Clarke, if he—"
She stopped him with a quick wave of her hand. "What do you need?"
###
[author's note: Alright, guys. A super-fast update, because in some parts of the world it's still my birthday and I'm rewarding myself with not "having" to wait to put this one out.
I'm afraid, the cliffhangers won't get much better any time soon and I wish I could say I was sorry about that, but I love them ;)
Thanks as always for reading, the lovely comments and thoughts on the chapter as well as the favs and subscriptions!]