Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Guys, I'm SO sorry for the delay on this chapter! I rewrote it a few times until I decided it was the way I wanted it, a couple of these sections decided to give me some trouble, lol. That and work has been pretty stressful for me lately, leaving me with not much energy to write, and now I'm sick, lol. But thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for your kind reviews, follows, and favorites! They mean a lot to me and really keep me going! :-) I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am! So, some of the Avengers are about to be forcefully reunited, Peter's at school and doesn't want to be, and Tony's not in a great situation. How will all this go? Let's find out! Here's a longer chapter to hopefully make up for my absence. Enjoy! :-)
Chapter 10– Fractures
"Rhodey!"
Pepper stared back at the colonel, startled. She glanced down at the burn cream, antiseptic ointment, and wrap bandages she held before quickly looking back at her friend with wide eyes. She watched as different emotions flitted across his face as he looked at all three renegade Avengers and took in the situation– confusion, disbelief, realization... and then anger when his gaze focused solely on Steve.
Natasha stiffened from her spot on the couch when she saw her former teammate's visage darken. Sam, sensing the escalating tension, took a slow step forward and raised a placating hand. "All right, man," he muttered, keeping his tone even. "Let's just keep it cool, okay? Give us a chance to explain..."
But Rhodey wasn't in the mood to hear any explanations. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his fierce gaze never leaving Steve's bearded face. While the other man's expression remained blank, there was something in his light eyes that he couldn't quite place. Regret? Sympathy? He wasn't entirely sure, but it didn't matter much to him at that moment.
In an instant, Natasha was on her feet, her manicured hands lingering near the purse she now carried with her. Sam took a more aggressive stance, standing in front of Rhodey to block his way when the latter took a few steps closer. "C'mon, man, just keep it co–!"
"No," Rhodey interrupted quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he gave a brief shake of his head to the man he'd considered a friend. "No, you don't get to say anything right now." He then turned his attention back to Steve, who hadn't moved, and his voice rose again. "Do you have any idea what your actions have done? What they've cost?"
The Super Soldier sighed quietly, and while his brow furrowed a bit under the pressure of the words, his gaze remained steady and locked on the colonel.
"I mean, did you even think about what sort of damage your choices could cause?" Rhodey continued, his temper rising by the other man's lack of response. "Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't appear that way. And I swear, if you made that choice because you thought it wasn't going to be found out and you wouldn't ever have to deal with it, I'm gonna..."
"Rhodey," Pepper said softly, taking a step forward herself. "Please..." But she paused when a gentle hand landed on her arm. She glanced down to see Steve had reached out for her, and it was at that moment Rhodey noticed the CEO had been in the process of wrapping up a long gash on the man's right arm.
"No," the Captain murmured. "He's right." He then slowly pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little at the motion as Natasha set a steadying hand on his back. He took a deep breath as he once again met the infuriated War Machine's gaze. "I'm sorry, Rhodey."
"You're sorry?" the colonel repeated in disbelief before he let out a short, sharp laugh. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it, man."
"And I know that, too," Steve replied evenly. Calmly. "Nor do I expect it to. But I just need you to know that we're on the same side here."
"The same side?" Rhodey took a deep breath, willing his temper to calm a little as he walked past Sam, who didn't try to stop him but kept a close eye on him nonetheless. He ignored the stiffness in his left knee, the small hitch in the mechanical support, as he came to a stop directly in front of Steve. "Really? Is that how you wanna play it now?"
"Rhodey..." Natasha began in a warning tone, but she stopped when Steve rose a hand.
The colonel completely ignored her. His attention was solely on the Super Soldier in front of him. "Funny you say that. Forget the damned Accords. You seemed to forget we were on the same side when I lost the ability to walk on my own." Behind him, Rhodey heard Sam hiss. He knew it was a low blow, that the other man had only moved out of the way of the blast from Vision and his paralysis hadn't been his intention nor his fault, but at that moment, he didn't care. He'd been internalizing this very conversation for far too long to pull back now.
"And last time I checked, Steve, it's not the same side when you keep the truth from someone who trusts you about a tragic event in their life to save your own skin, especially when that person's trust is hard to come by," he finished in just above a heated whisper.
That hit Steve hard, he could see it in the way he flinched ever so slightly. The Captain, for the first time, lowered his gaze, no longer able to hold it. Beside him, Pepper took a deep breath, trying to keep her own cool, but her hands were shaking so much that she dropped the first aid materials. Cursing under her breath, she began to crouch down to pick them up, but Sam appeared at her side and reached them first.
"I got it, Pepper."
Rhodey, meanwhile, continued to stare a hole through Steve, allowing his words to sink in for a moment longer while Natasha did the same to him. "You never even thought it through."
"That's where you're wrong," the Super Soldier murmured, not looking up.
"Am I?" Rhodey arched an eyebrow. "Then by all means fill me in, Steve. Because I really don't get it."
Steve raised his gaze back to the other man's, attempting to keep his own building frustration under control. "After I found out what truly happened to Howard and his wife that night, I wasn't sure what to do," he told him. "There wasn't a necessarily good way to handle this information. But I didn't think it would..." He paused when the colonel's other eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "Look. Would I have preferred to tell Tony about what happened myself rather than Zemo? Of course. I didn't know that's what he was going to–!"
"Would you have?" Rhodey pressed, interrupting him. "If Zemo hadn't gone through all the trouble of framing Barnes to pull him out of hiding and to get that security footage, you would have told Tony the truth about his parents?"
It took a moment for Steve to answer. "Yes, once I figured out how."
"You sure about that?"
Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Rhodey continued before he could.
"People died, Steve," he continued, his tone once again dangerously quiet. "Do you have any idea how long Tony spent believing... no, blaming Howard for what happened that night? That maybe he'd drank too much and crashed due to the conditions? Howard may not have been 'father of the year', but..."
"You don't think I regret what happened to him and his wife?" Steve wondered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Of course I do. Howard was my friend. And to think that my best friend, someone who's like my brother, was responsible for that..."
"Your friend? Great, I don't doubt that you regret what happened to your friend, but Tony is his son." Rhodey took a deep breath, shaking his head. "While it may have been complicated, he loved Howard. And to have spent all that time believing that his father..."
"I would have told him," Steve interrupted, a bit more bite to his voice now. He took a step closer to the colonel. "I told you, I just had to figure out how."
"You clearly waited too long."
Steve let out a long breath before he conceded the words with a nod. "Yes," he agreed, regret lacing his tone. "Because Zemo did it first. But really, I... I know it was selfish of me, but I was concerned about losing Tony because–!"
"Losing Tony?" Rhodey gazed at him incredulously. "Don't you think that happened anyway when he found out you knew about what happened and didn't tell him? That you'd stand by Barnes even in the face of that? That Zemo had to be the one to tell him the truth?"
Steve's gaze faltered. "Bucky's my brother. And if I'd have to lose Tony because I couldn't give up on him..." He paused for a moment. "And as I said, I didn't know what Zemo–!"
"No, Steve. This isn't all on Zemo," Rhodey cut in calmly. He paused for a moment, lightly worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "When Tony came back from Siberia... he was in a state of mind I haven't seen him in for quite some time. Years, actually. When he wasn't trying to help me walk again, he was quiet, drawn into himself. Hitting the bottle a little more again. He was a man whose world had just crumbled around him. Not just because he learned that his parents were actually murdered, but because someone he trusted kept that information from him. And once you lose Tony's trust, it's damn near impossible to get it back again. Barnes may have actually done the deed, and Zemo may have been the one to reveal it. But you... you were that trusted friend that he should have heard it from. And that is what was eating him up. That he allowed himself to trust someone and got stabbed in the back for it. Again."
Silence passed between the two men, both of their gazes steady as their wills forcefully clashed. Neither relented, yet neither pushed forward. Finally, the Super Soldier opened his mouth to offer a response, but another, higher pitched voice beat him to it.
"Okay, guys, that's enough," Pepper said as she finished accepting the rest of the medical supplies from Sam. She moved forward, positioning herself between the colonel and the Captain. "Rhodey, you know I still care about Tony's well-being. That's why I accepted Steve's help when he called. And I figured that we could use a little more help than when it was just us to find him. We didn't necessarily have the most... tiptop team..."
Rhodey's face fell as he turned to meet her gaze. The fury was no longer there, but rather resignation since he couldn't refute her point. With him not in perfect condition, with Pepper and Happy as emotionally compromised as they were, and with Peter who was still on the mend from some sort of hallucinogenic gas– and not to mention only fifteen years old– they weren't necessarily in the best shape. He suddenly appeared worn out and much older.
"Please," the CEO whispered when she had his attention. "Just until we find Tony, can you guys please get along? At least try? You're friends, you're teammates. Please just remember that until he's safe... And then you two can be in each other's faces and yelling until you're both hoarse for all I care. But Tony's safe return is what's most important to both of you right now. I know that for certain. And we'll have a better chance of getting him home safely if we can just work together for the time being. Okay?" She glanced over her shoulder at Steve at the question.
A moment passed before the Super Soldier nodded. There was a note of anxiety, almost desperation, in her voice, he noticed. He made a mental note to ask her about that at some point. "Of course," he assured her gently. "That's why I'm here." He then looked back at Rhodey. "Truce? I mean, since we didn't sign the Accords, we've got a bit more flexibility here..."
"Ha. We'll see how much flexibility you have in a prison cell," Rhodey said.
Steve arched an eyebrow. "You going to turn me in?" he challenged.
Surprisingly, a small smirk appeared at the corner of the colonel's lips. "Maybe later," he replied, a touch of that dry humor that was so befitting of him in his voice. The look then waned, and he let out a low breath. "For now, let's just focus on bringing Tony home."
"Let's bring him home," Steve agreed, holding his hand out for the other man to shake.
Rhodey briefly hesitated, sighing when he felt Pepper's eyes on him imploringly. He then nodded once before reaching out and grasping the Captain's hand.
"Truce."
Peter twirled the dial on his locker again with a long suffering sigh, trying for the fourth time to get the combination right. Sure, he knew it by heart, but he was really frustrated that the numbers had to be lined up exactly on the lock in order for it to be unlocked. And that sort of precision just wasn't his priority today. He groaned under his breath when he missed the third number yet again– he'd been so close– before quickly spinning it to the left to start over. This day had barely even gotten started and he just wanted it to be done already. Why couldn't Happy or Rhodey or Pepper call him with something, anything, that could possibly be of some sort of help? That he could do to help?
That small sense in the back of his mind told him that something was approaching and approaching quickly, but the teen still jumped when that something smacked hard into the locker beside him, causing a loud boom to echo through the already too loud, and too bright if he were being honest, hallway. He quickly glanced over to see Ned Leeds, slightly red in the face and clearly out of breath, looking back at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes.
"Did you hear?" he gasped out, holding the front page of a newspaper out in front of him with shaking hands. Peter only had to give it a brief glance to know exactly what the story was: Stark Presumed Dead, Spider-Man to Blame? "Peter... what the hell, man? What'd you do?"
"What?! Ned, I..." Peter paused, inhaling deeply as he waited for Cindy Moon and Seymour O'Reilly to rush past them in order to get to their first class, Tiny McKeever hurrying along behind them. He then grabbed his best friend's arm and pulled him off to the side, turning the corner into an adjacent hall to give them a little more privacy.
"Ned, I didn't do anything," Peter started again in a hiss, still taking a cautious glance around to make sure that no one would overhear them. "Someone's trying to frame me."
"Frame you?" Ned repeated, his eyebrows raising in bewilderment. "I mean... I have no doubt about that, I knew you couldn't do anything like this, but... Why would someone try to frame you?"
At that, Peter sighed and gave a frustrated shrug. "I don't know," he admitted, hating the words as he spoke them. "I haven't figured that part out yet. But it could be the guy with wings. I'm not sure who else would, or could, have done this."
Ned's eyes went even wider, if possible. "No way... That's some serious stuff, man." He then glanced down at the newspaper he held. "So... is Mr. Stark... is he really...?"
"No," Peter answered. It was a bit quickly, he knew, but just like when he'd talked to Aunt May earlier that morning, something was telling him that the billionaire was still alive. "He's still out there somewhere, I'm just not sure where the guy with wings could have brought him. But I really should be out there helping the others find him... being here isn't helping."
"Yeah, but... I get that, and it's cool and all that you're, like, helping other people with this hero thing and stuff... I mean, it sounds like Avenger stuff... But, dude, you're already in so much trouble with Principal Morita for trying to skip classes and skipping detention... If you skip again, you could be expelled. And be forced to go to that school where the teachers have crossbows!"
Peter arched an eyebrow before he sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, Ned, I don't care about that. About any of this." He paused, gesturing at the bustling hall and all of the students milling about around them. "It's like... I don't know how to explain it." He lightly bit his lip, trying to get all of his thoughts together. "Like, okay. Yesterday, Mr. Stark almost took my suit from me. He basically said I didn't deserve it. And... quite frankly, I think he had a point... Things on that ferry could have ended in complete disaster if he hadn't been there. And now... because of me... he's in some sort of danger. And..."
He swallowed the lump that he could feel threatening to form in his throat. "But... when that guy with wings attacked us... when that building exploded... those things happening somehow allowed me to keep my suit. And I feel like because of that, I'm being given another chance to prove Mr. Stark, and myself, wrong. That I can have this suit and be Spider-Man proudly. As I should be. As I should have been this whole time after Uncle Ben... But how can I do that, how can I save Mr. Stark if I'm cooped up in here, Ned? Like, there are things that are so much bigger than high school. And this is one of them. You know what I mean?"
As he spoke, the web-slinger felt his brow furrow slightly as what felt like the beginning of a memory started to poke its way out from the still slightly fuzzy parts of his mind. A glint of metal... yes. The wings of the bird man, maybe?
Ned listened to his best friend with his mouth hanging open a little, an almost inspired look in his eye. He took a deep breath, and Peter assumed that he was about to go into a spiel about how he could skip high school with him and be his "guy in the chair", but he was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat from the other end of the hall. Both teens quickly looked over to see that dark-haired Principal Morita himself had stepped out of his office, glancing at his watch.
"I'd get moving if I were you, boys," he said, a clear warning in his tone. "Class starts in just a couple minutes now." His stern gaze lingered on Peter in particular for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and wandered down the hall to shepherd other wayward students to where they were supposed to be.
Peter and Ned immediately turned back to each other. "I'll talk to you later," the former muttered. "Next class if I can. Deal?"
Though clearly disappointed, Ned had no choice but to nod. "Deal," he agreed. "I gotta get all the details here, man."
"Sure." They then proceeded to go through the movements of their multi-step handshake before Peter hurried to his locker, managing to finally get it unlocked and open on the second try. He rummaged around and pulled out his math and science textbooks he'd need for his first couple classes as well as his workbook for shop class later before closing and locking it up again and hurrying down the hall toward his first period room. He skidded to a stop behind a couple of his classmates as they were waiting to get inside, and he just managed to sneak his way in just as the bell rang to start the day.
Peter took his seat not too far behind Flash Thompson, a boy one year older than him who was also on the decathlon team with him... and who happened to be the last person on the entire planet he wanted to see right then. Anytime, really, but particularly when he still wasn't feeling one-hundred percent and the white noise around him was just a little too loud and the overhead lights were just a little too bright. He briefly closed his eyes and massaged his temples before reaching into his backpack and pulling out his notebook, a pencil, and the thick textbook he'd need for the duration of the period.
At the front of the room, Mrs. Monica Warren was writing out some equations on the board that they'd start the class with, and Peter yawned before he began to copy them down himself. He ignored the sneering look that Flash sent his way over his shoulder and the quiet snickering of the older boy as he instead tried to focus on the numbers and symbols he was writing down in his notebook in front of him.
Though as hard as he tried, his focus just wasn't there. Even though the problems themselves weren't hard and he could at any other time likely solve them in his sleep, the numbers just weren't making sense and the symbols just didn't look right. The teen rubbed his tired eyes, chalking it up to how tired he still seemed to be after the events of the day before, his worry for Tony along with his desire to help him and his curiosity if the others had found out anything after he'd left last night, how he wanted to be anywhere but in this classroom at that moment, and how all of his senses seemed to be annoyingly dialed to eleven. These arithmetic problems just didn't seem all that important in the grand scheme of things. It's not like they were graded or anything, rather just some exercises to get their brains going so early in the morning.
So instead of working on the problems, the web-slinger found himself starting to sketch out the metallic... thing that he was struggling to remember, the primary piece of a buried memory that was struggling to make its way to the surface. But as he continued, he began to realize that it wasn't turning out to look like the wings that belonged to the bird man like he'd initially expected, but rather like... something else... something familiar that he knew he'd seen before...
The gunshot echoed around him, louder than he'd expected. He was startled out of his thoughts– his concern for his Uncle Ben that he knew he still had to help and his confusion about what possibly could have been causing Tony to act so strangely– when the billionaire tightly gripped his arm and yanked him so that he was standing further back. His eyes widened when Tony stepped in front of him for only a brief moment before crying out in pain and slouching over before finally weakly collapsing to the rooftop, his hands pressed tightly over his abdomen.
"M-Mr... Mr. Stark?" Peter's eyes widened in fear as he took a couple steps closer to the man, noticing his visage was starting to pale drastically, his breathing was growing more and more labored, and scarlet was starting to stain his fingers from through his black shirt.
"Mr. Stark!" His sluggish mind finally realizing that the billionaire had been shot... shot to protect him... the teen closed the rest of the distance between them in a rush and knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his arm. "Mr. Stark, are you all right?"
However, Tony, despite the shock on his face and the pain he was clearly in, pushed Peter away from him with a force the latter wasn't expecting, causing him to topple onto his behind. "No, kid..." he gasped, grimacing as he raised himself up onto one arm. "Leave... get out of here... now."
Peter anxiously shook his head, his own breathing starting to quicken. He didn't want to think of what could happen to his mentor if he left him behind now with that gunshot wound and no way off the building other than with him. "N-no... not without you..." he stammered, his voice breaking a bit and rising to a bit of a higher pitch than he would have liked.
But Tony glared back at him as he continued to push himself up with a strength from deep within until he was able to take a knee, having a little more difficulty drawing in breath as he managed to keep himself between the impending threat and the teen behind him. "No time... to argue," he forced himself to mutter, his sharp hazel gaze solely fixed on their attacker. "Stop stopping and run... now!"
The force of his words surprised the web-slinger, but he still shook his head with determination as he once again advanced toward the billionaire. How could he so easily expect him to leave him behind... how could he expect him to leave his uncle behind...?
Though once again, Tony shoved him forcefully back, only causing him to stagger this time. "Are you... not hearing me, or... just being too much of a stubborn ass to listen?" he snapped, his voice tight with pain. "It's not that hard, kid. Run. Get out of here. Now."
"... Mr. Stark..."
Seeming to realize that the kid just wasn't going to leave, Tony's shoulders slumped as he sighed with defeat, sparing him a glance over his shoulder. Despite how a little bit of blood was starting to appear at the corner of his mouth, he managed to give Peter a small smile. "I'll join you as soon as I can, Underoos," he murmured, coughing a little. "I'll be... right behind you..."
Peter looked back at his mentor, knowing that despite the promise in his words and in that smile that it was a complete lie. Tony sounded almost... resigned. Resigned that he wouldn't be leaving that rooftop. Because of him. Because he had taken that bullet for him because he wasn't paying attention. Because he now wanted him to escape from that building. Without him. It made him want to protest all the more, and he shook his head and opened his mouth to do so.
But before he could utter another word, the teen paused when he heard heavy footsteps, and for the first time, he looked up to face who had ambushed them. The first thing he saw through the light haze was a pair of black combat boots making their way closer to him. As the figure got closer, Peter's eyes slowly widened as he began to recognize the dark hair that fell to the man's chin, the piercing blue eyes rimmed with black that were gazing intently at them over the cloth mask that covered most of his pale face. But most importantly, he recognized the glint of the metallic arm with a red star on it holding the high-powered assault rifle, which he was raising in their direction once again.
Tony grunted as he managed to push himself to his feet, swaying a little as he wrapped an arm around his midsection while using the other to push the web-slinger closer to the edge of the roof. "Go!"
This time, something deep within him moved. Peter quickly slipped his mask back on, getting another glance at their attacker in time to see him pull out a small, metallic ball out of a pouch at his hip and carefully roll it in their direction, before, against his wishes, his body turned and dashed for the side of the building. He flinched when he heard another gunshot pierce the air, but he kept running. Despite how much he didn't want to. He felt as though he had no control.
No... no! Stop! Turn back! Mr. Stark!
But his feet stubbornly refused to listen to his racing brain. His body was almost acting on its own volition. The edge loomed nearer and nearer, and he held his breath as he reached it and took that leap of faith, slinging a web strand out to catch anything to slow his fall.
... I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark... I'll come back for you...
He felt the web line catch, and he sighed in relief knowing that he at least wouldn't end up flat on the concrete far below. But then, a sound louder than anything he'd heard before rocked his entire body as an intense, scorching heat was felt against his back, and he knew no more.
"Mr. Stark!"
Peter's eyes snapped open as he quickly gasped for breath and looked around him, squinting a bit in the bright light as he took a moment to figure out where he was. His face was covered in sweat and he could feel a thin line of tears threatening to form in his eyes as his chest heaved, and his racing mind began to take in the scene around him. He wasn't on top of that building, nor was he swinging through the air before his descent was noticeably sped up after the explosion hit. Instead he was lying on his back on the hard floor of his first period classroom. Students had gathered in a tight group around him, all muttering to themselves about the scene he had most likely caused, and the teen felt himself flush with embarrassment as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position before he ran a hand over his clammy face and forced back the tears that he wouldn't allow to form. There was already too much damage done here for that.
Over the murmurs of concern and confusion, he thought he picked out quiet snickering, and Peter's gaze landed on Flash, who was still seated at his table. Their eyes met, and the older boy feigned a fainting spell as he put the back of his hand on his forehead and mouthed the words "Mr. Stark". Great. Had he actually said that out loud? He'd never hear the end of it now.
"Out of my way. Out of my way!"
Peter looked up in time to see Mrs. Warren pushing her way through the crowd of students, somehow looking both annoyed that her lesson had been disturbed and concerned that one of her pupils had fainted in class. "Mr. Parker, are you all right? Did you hit your head when you fell?"
The web-slinger attempted to figure that out. His head hurt, but it was more the building ache in his temples that had been there since he'd gotten to school rather than it colliding with something on his short trip to the floor. With a brief shake of his head, he managed to mutter, "N-no..."
What was wrong with him? His racing mind refused to slow down, as did his heart, he couldn't seem to catch his breath, his hands were shaking...
This hadn't happened since shortly after Ben had died, he realized. In the wake of his uncle's death, when he'd decided to be Spider-Man, he'd been plagued with terrible nightmares of the event, often causing him to have spells of severe anxiety attacks.
No, no, no... This couldn't be happening again... not now...
Just breathe!
His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Warren knelt in front of him, looking into his panicked eyes with her own calming gaze. "Can you stand?"
Peter nodded, and he accepted her hand as she helped him to his feet. She then set a warm, steadying hand on his back. "Step out into the hall, please. And you should probably bring your things." She then turned to the rest of the students who were still gathered around them. "The rest of you, back to your seats. Continue working on these problems. And no talking."
As she spoke, the web-slinger quickly gathered up his book and notebook into his backpack. He grabbed his pencil, seeing that he'd seemed to have nearly snapped it in half, before tossing that in as well before he zipped it up and slipped it onto his shoulder. Trying to get his breathing under control, he glanced once more time at Flash, who once again mouthed the words "Mr. Stark", before he followed Mrs. Warren toward the door, each click of her heels almost echoing as loudly as the gunshots from his memory in his ears.
Soon, they were both standing out in the hall, and Mrs. Warren kept the door open a little so she could hear what was going on inside the classroom. She took a deep breath as she gazed at the teen, studying his face closely. "Are you all right, Mr. Parker?" she wondered quietly. "You're awfully pale and just fainted in there."
Peter nodded. "I'm all right," he told her, his voice breaking a little. He still couldn't breathe. "Just... stressed. Tired. That's all."
It was easy to tell by the look on her face that she didn't believe a word of it. "Try to take slow, deep breaths," she muttered. When Peter tried to follow what she said and still couldn't quite do it, she sighed. "What you said in there..."
"I'm sorry for whatever was said." Peter swallowed the lump he could feel forming in his throat. "I didn't meant to... to disrupt the class. I..."
He was stopped when Mrs. Warren set a light hand on his shoulder, and he finally raised his gaze to meet hers. The worry he saw there almost made him lose his resolve. "I know you have that internship with Tony Stark, so I can't imagine how the news last night must have made you feel," she said. "Have you talked about that with anyone?"
Peter slowly shook his head. He just wished that his heart and breathing would cooperate. He had to calm down, but he also had to get out of there. He had to tell someone what he'd remembered. "N-no..."
Mrs. Warren's brow furrowed. "Mr. Parker? Why don't you go down to see the counselor?" she suggested. "Just to talk a few things out and to calm down?"
The counselor? At least he wasn't in trouble and going to be sent to Principal Morita, but... The regular counselor was gone on maternity leave for the rest of the year, and no student had really met her replacement yet. But if Flash found out that he was going to the counselor's office on top of fainting in class, he'd be done for.
"I... I don't think that's... that's necessary..."
"Peter." Mrs. Warren's tone was sharp, but not in an uncaring way. "You're not the first student to have a panic attack in my classroom. This is your best option, unless you want your aunt to be involved here." A small, good-natured smile appeared on her face when the web-slinger quickly shook his head in protest. "Okay, then."
Peter watched as she leaned into the room behind her before she came back with the cardboard hall pass and handed it to him. "Take as much time as you need," she said. "Sort this all out, it'll help. And just breathe. Deep, even breaths. Just make sure to come back here when you're done. Okay?"
"O-okay..."
Mrs. Warren lightly patted his shoulder before she stepped back inside her classroom, shutting the door behind her to continue the lesson. Peter stood there for a moment, unmoving as he stared down at the hall pass he held and tried to settle his breathing. It worked a little bit, but when he took off walking, he didn't head in the direction of the counselor's office. Instead, he ran down the hall in the direction of the men's bathroom, relieved to find the stalls empty when he rushed inside. He dropped the hall pass as he threw his backpack on one of the sinks, quickly opening and digging through it until he found his cell phone. He saw with a brief glance at the screen that he hadn't missed a thing, but he fumbled with the buttons as he searched for a familiar number. The teen nearly dropped the phone as he brought it to his ear, just as it began to ring.
"C'mon... pick up, pick up..."
Parked on a suburban block not far away from Midtown in Queens sipping on a lukewarm coffee left over from his breakfast at a small diner, Happy Hogan was sitting– no, stewing– behind the wheel of his car. He continued to stare at his phone through his sunglasses, his fingers tapping impatiently against the styrofoam mug in his other hand as his brow furrowed.
What in the world was taking Rhodey so long to call him back? And why wasn't he answering his phone? They could have started this hunt for Aaron Davis almost an hour ago already. Instead, he'd been sitting in his car, sipping on average coffee and getting weird looks from mothers out pushing their babies in strollers and elderly couples out for a morning walk.
It was frustrating to say the least.
Sighing, the head of security tossed his phone to the passenger seat before turning in his own, feeling around for something on the floor of the backseat. Finally finding it, he grabbed the tablet given to him by Tony and leaned it against the steering wheel, brushing the screen off a bit before turning it on. As he waited for the device to load, he took another sip of that average coffee with a smug smile. If the colonel wasn't going to call him back, then he'd just have to figure out where this Aaron Davis lived himself and start the hunt for the missing billionaire on his own.
Then, he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting to hear for what felt like forever– his phone started to ring.
"Finally," Happy muttered as his tablet's home screen came on, and he carefully leaned over and picked up his phone. "About damn time..."
However, his eyes narrowed when he saw a number he wasn't expecting, and he answered the call with a frown. "Aren't you supposed to be in class learning something right about now?"
Happy's eyebrows rose before they knitted together. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... slow down, kid, I can't understand you when you're running your mouth a mile a minute," he said. "What now? Huh? Slow down... Can you repeat that? Did you say you remembered something?"
Then, the head of security nearly dropped the phone when Peter finally managed to slow down enough to say something distinguishable but still anxious.
"Happy... it... it wasn't the guy with wings who attacked us... It was the guy... the guy with the metal arm... He... he's the one who hurt Mr. Stark!"
The first hit was unexpected, as part of his mind was telling him that Bakaar and Raza were only hallucinations from the gas.
Tony gasped as the former's fist landed solidly on his stomach not far from where the bullet had pierced him, robbing him of breath as he slumped forward onto his knees. He didn't have a chance to take a full breath before a hand grabbed his hair roughly and Raza's fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. The billionaire coughed violently as air finally forced its way back into his lungs, and he was hardly able to start pushing himself into a sitting position in attempt to ward them off before a foot connected with his ribs. The wind was knocked out of him again, and the pain caused dark spots to dance in front of his eyes.
No... he wasn't back there, he had to keep reminding himself. His hand slowly curled into a fist, trying to listen for Bakaar or Raza to come closer over the sound of his own harsh breathing so he could force them back. To fight them off, to keep them from reaching Yinsen.
He wasn't back there... he could never be back there...
But before any more blows could be landed, a voice echoed around the room. "All right, that's enough."
The billionaire's breath caught in his chest as the words took hold in his racing mind. That voice... he knew that voice...
A moment passed before he slowly pushed himself up on one arm and looked up to see both Bakaar and Raza towering over him. Behind them, the cheap Bucky knockoff was leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest as he watched what had been happening in amusement.
But he hadn't been the one who had spoken. It had been the man next to him.
Tony forced his gaze to focus on him, dreading what he knew he would see. Of course, he'd recognize that outfit anywhere, the one made of the good ol' red, white, and blue. The light hair was styled short and immaculate, just like always. Those blue eyes gazed back at him, seeming to be able to see right through him to those deepest parts of him he often kept hidden.
It was the face... the clean-shaven face that didn't seem right. That smirk... that cruel smirk... was all wrong. It didn't fit him.
But yet, there was no denying that smirk was residing in the familiar handsome features of Steve Rogers.
Author's Note: Annnnnd, there's that! Aside from that pretty evil ending, at least Peter remembers the last bit of what happened so that they can get on the right track (despite the panic attack...)! And after a rather explosive reunion, these Avengers are more or less back on the same page to find Tony. So things are headed in the right direction! At least for now ;-) I'm so sorry again for my absence, you guys! I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner next time. As always, feedback is always appreciated! Until next time!