Chapter Ten: Help Me Make it Through the Night
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Natasha Romanov
"Deploying reflector panels. Shutting down main thrusters to enter stealth mode," Okoye announces, her voice soft as we exit the multicolored array of our jump and glide effortlessly into depthless, dark space.
The lights in the cabin dim, and though I can't see the outside of the ship, I know that the panels lining the perimeter have shifted to mirror the space around us, absorbing the light from the stars to become nearly invisible.
At least, that is our hope.
The alien force is more technologically advanced, perhaps even above Wakandan tech, though the young princess would certainly have a thing or two to say about that. For all we know, no amount of stealth mode will hide us from their radar, and no amount of reflector panels will make us disappear from view.
All we can do is hope, and wait.
The air within the ship is taut with tension, as if our oxygen has suddenly been cut low, and none of us dare to breathe.
Geared up for war, many of us with Wakandan upgrades courtesy of Shuri, we stare out the cockpit window. Foreign stars litter the inky black blanket of space, their light dim, their positions crammed together in distant galaxies and constellations, as if clustering themselves so closely can help them give off more light.
It feels like we are at the very edge of the universe, and though I've never been to space before this, I can't shake the feeling that it is quieter here in this isolated galaxy than in our own. Quieter. Like the absence of more than just sound. Like nothing here should be living. Like the dark quiet itself emanates a deadly countenance that puts even me on edge.
Before us is a single planet, the side facing us nearly pitch black, the edges of it glowing a wavering light as it eclipses a small, distant sun far beyond it.
And hovering just above the planet's atmosphere, is the alien craft. The craft that entered and exited our own planet like it was nothing more than a ghost. It is eerily accurate to Shuri's holographic diagram back at the compound, a testament to the Wakandan technology and the skill of its Design Group the princess herself leads.
The minutes pass as we hover among the stars like we are nothing more than another piece of cold, unfeeling space, waiting to see if we are about to be discovered, or if our presence is still unknown.
"We remain undetected," Okoye says finally, her voice still a soft murmur, as if just speaking too loudly could call the alien force down upon us.
Several breaths are released, the tension diminishing somewhat, but still lingering around our shoulders like an icy weight.
We are far from out of the woods.
"Is there any way of knowing whether they are on the ship or on the planet?" Rhodes asks, geared up in his War Machine armor, sans helmet.
T'Challa shakes his head. The vibranium weave of his Black Panther Habit seems to absorb any light coming from the hull of the ship, making him look like he belongs to the depthless dark of space.
"Any scans we might perform could alert them to our presence," he mutters. "And there is no way to tell whether they could penetrate the alien craft's defences."
"I say we go penetrate them ourselves," Stark cracks his neck above his red and gold Ironman suit, the light catching on the new veins of silver edging the metal panels running along his body. "See how they like it."
"Okay, not a good enough excuse to use the word penetrate," Sam raises a brow.
I roll my eyes.
"We shouldn't waste time sneaking aboard their ship," Clint muses, his sharp eyes moving across the distant craft to the planet beyond it. "If they're docked there, my bet is they took the others to the surface."
"That's a risky bet," Rhodes shoots back. "If you're wrong, we could be facing an entire civilization of those monsters while they continue to do whatever they are doing to the rest of our team. Not to mention, it's a freaking planet. How do you expect us to search the entire thing for six people?"
"Either way it's risky," I remind him with an arched brow. "Whether we go for the ship or the planet, it's fifty fifty whether or not we find the others."
"We're looking at this wrong," Stark interjects with a shake of his head. "I'm not an 'either or' sort of guy. I'm more interested in the word both."
Scott's eyes widen with understanding. "We split up."
We all look to Tony.
"Historically and cinematically speaking," Sam folds his arms over his chest. "Splitting up is always a bad idea. Everyone always gets picked off one by one. And I'm just going to say it, usually the black guy goes first. We're not exactly in short supply here."
"So the odds are in your favor," Stark gives him a quizzical look. "What's the problem?"
"The problem," Rhodes stresses as Sam flips Tony off, "Is that last time we fought these guys on our turf, we got our asses handed to us. And that was with a lot more of our big players on the field. We split up, they wipe us out. Simple as that."
"Look, Romanov is right. Don't quote me on that," Stark points at me without looking. "We go to the ship, they're on the planet, they die. We go to the planet, they're on the ship, they die. And this whole U.S.S. Enterprise venture was for nothing. I don't know about you, but I don't like wasting my time."
There's a moment of silence as we mentally deliberate the possibilities.
"Your highness?" Scott breaks it first. "What's your thought on this?"
T'Challa doesn't answer, but looks to his general instead, raising a brow in her direction as he defers to her. Okoye stands from her position at the helm, turning to face us with an expression of utmost confidence, of command. "We will divide and conquer. One team to investigate the alien craft, the other, the planet. Use these to stay in contact with each other."
My interested gaze shoots to her palm as Stark deadpans, "Please tell me those aren't friendship bracelets."
Okoye shoots him an unimpressed look as she holds out a handful of dark beads, symbols etched onto each one. "Shuri adapted the interface in the Kimoyo beads so their range is vastly extended from its previous limitations."
"This is great and all," Scott nods towards the beads. "But searching a ship is one thing. An entire freaking planet might take awhile."
"We should be able to triangulate possible drop points based on the ships position above the atmosphere," T'Challa answers him.
"Not to mention," I add. "If the others are on the planet's surface, those of us that go on the ship should be able to figure out where."
Clint cracks his neck, adjusting the bow on his back. "Now the only question is who goes to the alien craft, and who heads to the surface of the planet?"
"Sorry, but that's not the only question here," Stark steps forward, gesturing to the alien craft hovering menacingly in the distance. "We can't exactly expect them to leave a hangar open for us or think that they won't have ways to detect us if we try to break into their ship."
"I think I can help with that."
I watch as Okoye and T'Challa stiffen, their eyes widening furiously as we all turn to the back of the ship.
The Wakandan Princess steps out from a hidden compartment within the very walls, her chin raised defiantly, her eyes sparkling. For a moment, we all just stare at her, stunned into silence.
Then T'Challa releases a furious string of Wakandan as he stalks forward, an exasperated looking Okoye at his heels. Abruptly, he switches to English, his voice tight with disbelieving anger. "You snuck aboard my ship?"
"No, I went obediently back home to the palace to await your return," Shuri rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. "What do you think, brother?"
"What were you thinking?" Okoye demands. "The entire royal line is now in the far reaches of space, leaving none but your poor mother to watch over Wakanda."
Shuri looks utterly unremorseful. "Nakia has everything under control there."
T'Challa eyes her suspiciously. "Did she put you up to this?"
"Nakia did not put me up to anything. I may have sent her a message to inform her about the situation, and she may have encouraged me to do as I felt I must," Shuri's arms move to cross her chest. "And I knew you needed me more than Wakanda did. And I was right."
Near me, I hear Stark murmur in a delighted voice to Sam, "I want one."
Sam rolls his eyes.
T'Challa is going off in Wakandan again, and Shuri finally snaps, "Look, I'm here! There is nothing to be done for it now. You can't send me home without returning yourself. So, if you are finished ranting at me, let me get a look at that ship so I can help you get on board."
The king looks like he's nearly tempted to fly straight back to Earth just so he can deposit the princess back home, but then he relents, letting out a sigh before pointing at her. "You will obey my orders from here on out. No more sneaking."
Shuri grins innocently as she nods. No one believes it for a second. She cracks her knuckles, gives us all a satisfied look before strolling up to the controls. As she passes Stark, she pauses, smirking at the sight of her upgrades adorning his suit. Shuri raises a brow, waiting for his response.
Tony raises his chin, giving her a conceding smile as he asks, "So, how do you like your coffee, kid?"
Peter Parker
My fault, my fault, my fault.
The words churn heavily in my gut, sinking further and further with every rapid beat of my heart.
It's not logical. I know it's not.
It's not like I asked the alien to drag me off the cliff and try to kill me. It's not like I asked Bucky to jump down after us or to get injured saving my ass.
But if he hadn't, he wouldn't be injured.
Yeah, another voice in my head says, and you would be dead.
My eyes move to the Winter Soldier limping heavily at the head of our group, stubbornly refusing any help as we move further up the mountain. Dr. Banner and I exchange worried, exasperated looks as we walk side by side just behind him, staying close so we can grab him if he starts to fall.
Because he's definitely going to.
Bucky started this trek after the cliffside fiasco striding confidently into the jungle, barely favoring his left side as if to prove to us that he was fine enough to continue on. Now, he's limping so badly, he nearly looks like a staggering drunk, and I'm willing to bet he's lost way too much blood.
When I'm not carefully watching my injured teammate, my eyes are frantically scanning the jungle for any sign of something we can use as shelter. We follow the river that pours itself into the waterfall over the cliff and into the lake, travelling up its winding curves, using the noise of the rushing water to disguise our footsteps.
It had been Bucky's idea.
I vow that whenever I get home, I am going to binge watch all of Bear Gryll's shows to learn more about surviving in the wildest places of the world, so that next time I'm in a similar scenario, (please god let there not be a next time), I will know more than just to drink your own pee if you are dying of thirst and can't find water.
That's a thing, isn't it?
I'm pretty sure Ned told me that once. But maybe he was just messing with me.
"He can't keep this up," Dr. Banner murmurs to me under his breath. "We gotta find somewhere to stop so I can look at his wound."
I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek worryingly, my eyes scanning the trees and the river and seeing nothing but plants and rocks and useless water and-
I jerk to a halt, my lenses narrowing on a spot on the other side of the river, up a rocky, mossy slope. A decaying, fallen log crosses over the high point of the river, sharp branches sticking out haphazardly, draped in greenery, and behind that, above that, there's a crevice in the massive boulders.
It could be nothing.
Or it could be exactly what we are looking for.
I'm about to open my mouth to call out to Bucky to let him know that I thought I found something, when he trips and stumbles, falling hard to his knees.
Dr. Banner and I surge to his side, and with a sinking sensation, I see that he's even worse off than we thought. His skin is seriously way too white, making the stubble on his jaw stand out in stark contrast, everything covered in a sheen of sweat that has his hair plastered to his face. Even his eyes are glassy, unfocused.
"He's lost too much blood," Dr. Banner places a hand on Bucky's forehead, and the soldier doesn't protest. The scientist curses, dropping his arm back to his side. "He's burning up."
I heave one of Bucky's arms over my shoulder, pulling him carefully to his feet. "There's a cave up there," I point with my free hand. "I think. Hang tight, doc. I'm gonna get him up there, and then I'll come back for you."
"No," Bucky grunts. "Him first."
"If you can say that without slurring, I'll let the kid take me first," Dr. Banner raises an eyebrow expectantly.
Bucky just blinks at him.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Go ahead, Pete."
I fire off a web at the top of the boulder strewn ledge across the river, tightening my grip on Bucky as we swing across the wide body of water and up the slope. Bucky lets out a sharp exhale of breath as we land, the only sound of pain he makes.
"Sorry," I murmur as I leave him to lean against the boulder.
I gotta check to make sure the coast is clear, that there are no alien animals using this as a den, that it's big enough to stash us all in, that there are no traps.
It's a narrow opening, barely visible in the rocks unless you see it at just the right angle, looking more like a shadow than the mouth of a cave. Switching my lenses to night vision, I sidle into the crevice sideways, the opening probably just wide enough for Bucky to slide through after me.
After a few claustrophobic seconds of scraping my back against the damp rock wall, my head angled to the side to see deeper into what I hope is a wider cave beyond it, I finally step through.
My body shifts into a defensive crouch as I examine the space, tinted green and fuzzy by my lenses. It isn't pitch black in here, the narrow slit of the cave's opening offering a shallow beam of light, but I'm not taking any chances, using my suit's capabilities to check out every corner.
The cave is probably as big as my room back in Queens, the ceiling angled sharply as the boulders press against each other. My nose wrinkles at the musty, damp smell hanging heavily in the air, but honestly, this is the best shelter we could have asked for.
Just in case, I roam my hands over the walls, and make sure to step across every inch of the ground to check for traps, but there's nothing.
I sidle back out of the cave, my alarm flaring at the sight of Bucky weakly leaning against the boulder, his eyes slowly dragging across the landscape to look up at me. "Come on," I say, helping him up. "Let's get you inside."
Dr. Banner is prying the webbing off of Bucky's wound.
The Winter Soldier is propped against the wall centered in the beam of light from the cave's entrance, holding his body stiffly as the scientist carefully lifts the stained edges of the makeshift bandage to reveal the bloody gash beneath it.
My stomach rebels at the sight, prickles of phantom pain skittering across my skin.
Holy shit that's a lot of blood. Fresh, crimson blood, dark, drying patches of it across his exposed skin, the torn edges of his uniform. And the wound…
I have to squeeze my eyelids shut as I swallow repeatedly to keep the bile from surging up my throat. But even with my eyes closed I can hear the soft rip of the webbing tugging away from his skin, the sharp hisses of breath coming through Bucky's clenched teeth, Dr. Banner's murmured apologies.
And beneath it all, the words repeating in a guilty mantra in my head: my fault, my fault, my fault.
It could have been me.
It was supposed to have been me.
"Geez, that bastard really did a number on you, didn't he?" Dr. Banner asks sympathetically, pulling the rest of the webbing off, his other hand braced on Bucky's skin to keep him steady.
"I've...had worse," Bucky admits.
I wince, wishing he was kidding. I move closer, determined to push aside my growing nausea and my almost crippling worry so that I can help in whatever way I can.
It helps if I don't look directly at the wound.
Dr. Banner blows out a breath. "Well, I'm not going to lie to you, it's not good. And I don't exactly have any medical supplies, but we'll make do. It'll be one hell of a scar though."
Bucky looks pointedly at his metal arm.
"Right," Dr. Banner smirks, rubbing his jaw as his gaze returns to the open gash still leaking blood, his lips curving down into a deep frown. "We need to clean this. Think you could get me some water, kid?"
I jump to my feet so fast, grey spots erupt across my vision in a woozy headrush. "On it!"
As I hurry out of the cave, Dr. Banner calls after me, "Use that drone of yours to make sure it's clean! Try to find a spot with the fastest current."
"Stay low," Bucky adds. "Watch for signs of-"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," I interrupt, waving him off, as I rush out of the cave, sliding down the steep slope to the water's edge.
Heart thumping, I set Droney to work, my eyes searching the trees for any signs of the hunters.
I don't think I've relaxed for a moment since being captured. Unless you counted being unconscious. Even the short bits of sleep I've managed have been light, restless, buried under humid heat and instinctual terror that has me jerking awake at every sound.
It's starting to weigh on me, the near constant stream of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Not enough rest, not enough food, and the continual fearing for my life. Not the best combo.
When Droney returns, notifying me that the water is free of parasites and other contaminants, I realize suddenly I have nothing to carry the water in.
Sighing, I search around me for something to use, eventually coming across a plant with leaves as big as my torso. Not the best, but good enough. I yank it from it's stalky stem, then jog back to the river, setting the leaf into the current and swiping it through the water to clean it off best I can before scooping it up.
I'd like to say that I carried that water back up to the cave in an epically graceful maneuver, barely spilling a drop. But the truth is, carrying any large amount of liquid in a freaking leaf is nearly impossible.
Third try, I manage to get most of it back into the cave, and by the time I do, I am panting, my heart beating painfully fast in my chest. "I'm sorry," I blurt as I come in, carrying the wide, precarious bundle. "Sorry, that was-"
My words trail off at the sight of Bucky, who hasn't even looked up at my approach. Oh god, he looks really, really bad.
Dr. Banner gestures me over, still kneeling beside him. "Ok, Pete, I need you to carefully pour it over his wound, ok? Not too fast."
Swallowing thickly, I nod, slowly moving to the Winter Soldier's side. I cast a nervous, wide eyed glance at Dr. Banner, who nods reassuringly before I carefully tip the edge of the massive leaf forward. The water steadily pours out in a narrow rush over Bucky's side, and he goes rigid, hissing in pain, his fingers curling into fists as he holds himself still.
My hands are shaking, and the rest of the water dumps out in a spasmic rush. "Sorry!" I exclaim, about to drop the leaf before Dr. Banner takes it from my hands, tearing off a chunk of it and then gently pressing it against the edges of the gash, wiping away the blood so he can see.
I can see the tightness in Bucky's jaw, knowing his teeth are grinding together at the pain, but he doesn't cry out or complain, doesn't jerk away.
He's a soldier, bearing the pain like it's somehow his duty.
The thought makes me sick.
Dr. Banner frowns at it, then looks back at me. "Any chance I can borrow some of that webbing of yours?"
"You want me to shoot another burst for bandages?" I ask, holding up my wrist.
He shakes his head. "How narrow of a line can you make?"
"Uh...not sure," I admit. "I can probably adjust it manually though to reduce the circumference. Why?"
"He need stitches. And the aliens didn't exactly provide me with needle and thread. We're gonna have to use your web to seal the wound shut, intersect and weave the line across the gash. What's its dissolve time?"
"Two hours."
"Ok," Dr. Banner nods. "Ok, that works. We can clean it again when the web dissipates. This is gonna work."
My heart lifts at his words, but Bucky rasps, "No."
"No?" Dr. Banner repeats in confusion. "I'm sorry, did you have a better idea?"
"You have a limited supply," Bucky says evenly, looking at me. "You've already wasted too much."
"Do you see anything else we can use?" my voice rises skeptically. "Dude, you saved my life. The least I can do is give you a little of my webs so that you don't bleed out and die."
I reach for my right wrist, turning my arm over to look at the underside of my web shooter, to the spot just above where I replace my web fluid capsules. If Karen were here, I could just ask her to change the setting, but as it is, I'll have to do it manually. I adjust a toggle several times, letting out the tiniest test of webbing before nodding to Dr. Banner.
Eyes narrowed with focus, he carefully takes my wrist to aim the edge of my web shooter's firing mechanism at the top of Bucky's wound. "Alright, as gentle as you can," he murmurs.
Holding my breath, thankful Dr. Banner's hands are keeping mine steady, I press against the trigger on my palm. A cord of it, significantly thinner than the ropes I use to swing around on, shoots out, the ends of it splaying delicately to latch onto the skin near the wound. Bucky jerks at the impact, but says nothing, and now there is a long thread of webbing connecting from his side to my wrist.
Dr. Banner reaches forward, his face tight with concentration as he pinches the webbing beneath his fingers and stretches it across the open gash, tightening the torn skin as he secures about a sixteenth of the webbing to the other side, pressing it down with his thumb.
Sweat beads across Bucky's forehead, dripping down the sides of his face as Dr. Banner carefully, efficiently, strings the cord in a crisscrossing motion across the gash, lashing the ragged, bloody edges together as tight as he can make it, and beneath his expert fingers and my webbing, now stained red with blood, the wound begins to seal.
I watch in morbid fascination, my stomach roiling, but unable to look away as the scientist works on his patient.
Bucky bears it all, his eyes eventually closing, his breathing evening out in forced, practiced rhythm. Breathing through the pain.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
"There," Dr. Banner says after an excruciatingly long time, and I snap off the end of the webbing dangling from my web shooter. He sits back with a long sigh, his face lined with exhaustion, with concern. "That should hold it for a time, hopefully long enough for his accelerated healing to kick in."
"You ok?" I ask Bucky tentatively, and the Winter Soldier opens his eyes. When they meet mine, they soften, their normal intensity dulled by exhaustion and pain.
"Yeah, kid. I'm good."
He doesn't look good. In fact, he looks the opposite of good, and despite the wound being closed, despite Dr. Banner doing everything he could, a knot of worry burns inside my chest.
I watch as his eyes drift shut again, as his breathing evens out, this time not in forced rhythms, but in sleep as he succumbs to his exhaustion and loss of blood.
"We should cover that," Dr. Banner rubs at his eyes. "To help prevent infection. But he has an open wound in the middle of a freaking alien jungle. The odds of it not getting infected are not good."
He meets my wide eyed lensed stare and amends, "I mean, the accelerated healing should help prevent that, but it would be better if we could cover it up with something sanitary."
I tear off my mask, letting it fall to the ground as I take a few deep breaths. I try not to let Dr. Banner see how badly I am shaking, how much I want to vomit and pass out after witnessing that, after being the cause of it.
I feel wrung out, jittery and strung tight and maybe on the edge of a panic attack.
Anchor, my brain automatically reminds me, and I cringe as the voice in my head sounds exactly like Bucky's.
But I obey, pressing against the spot above my heart as Dr. Banner and I both watch the passed out Bucky lying before us.
"What," I have to stop and swallow, my voice cracking on the word. I try again. "What do we do if his healing doesn't kick in? What if it does get infected? What if...what if the knife was poisoned? What if-"
"Hey," Dr. Banner places a hand on my shoulder. "Cool it with the 'what ifs' kid, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm going down that road. Or you're going to give me one."
I clamp my mouth shut, and my brain goes down the rabbit hole instead, imagining the worst sort of scenarios, imagining him never waking up, imaging him getting sicker and weaker, imagining the hunters finding us and me being unable to protect him…
"Didn't I say to knock it off?" Dr. Banner repeats, squeezing my shoulder. "I can see your brain spazzing out in those bug eyes of yours. Does Stark have this much trouble getting you to listen to him?"
I snort, the sound only slightly hysterical. "Probably more."
"We'll figure this out, okay, Pete?"
I nod, but I can't help but notice that he didn't say 'Bucky will be okay', or 'he'll be fine'.
I watch the rise and fall of Bucky's chest as I scoot back to lean against the wall of the cave, tucking my knees into my chest and resting my arms on top of them. My teeth chew on the inside of my cheeks, probably making my face look ridiculous, but I don't care.
The red, jagged line of his wound contrasts sharply with the white of his skin peeking out beneath his torn suit.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
But there's nothing more we can do.
We cleaned his wound, stitched him up, and maybe we can find something sanitary to cover it without using more webs, but I doubt it. All we can do is watch, wait, and let him rest, hopefully allowing whatever kind of accelerated healing he has to work.
Nothing more we can do.
I sit up straighter.
Except...that's not exactly true, is it?
My heart begins to pump wildly inside of my chest as my thoughts begin to race.
I think of the hook in my shoulder, sawed off and ripped out of me. My body tenses as I remember, as the phantom memories of the pain throb beneath my skin. There had been a gaping hole, but the aliens hadn't stitched it up.
They'd just put those bandages tightly around my shoulder, and let them and my own accelerated healing get to work.
Vision's examination and theory about the composition of the bandages being made from the alien's skin, using their healing abilities in combination with our own.
I know what can help Bucky.
I know what can make sure that his wound heals, and that he survives this.
I just need an alien hunter to do it.
A/N: *waves* anybody there? lol
Sorry about the long wait guys! I went out of town on an impromptu trip to visit my brother, and I'm also participating in July's Camp Nanowrimo, trying to finish up my novel. So tons of work on that, which means this got a little neglected. I will endeavor to balance out my writing a bit, but I appreciate your patience if the updates aren't as quick as I would like!
Everyone take a moment to thank your beta, PippinStrange, who is just phenomenal. If you haven't already, check out her work, because I HIGHLY recommend her Marvel fictions. Gosh they are good and everything I've ever wanted. BEst on the site, hands down.
I'm going to see Ant-Man tomorrow! NO SPOILERS PLEASE! SO EXCITED! :D
DarylDixon'sLover: Not dead yet!
sparklydog9: Tehehehehe. I mean. I'm sorry? XD lol!
SummerMistedDragon: :D
kittymyth96: Me too! Buuuuuut some stuff has gotta happen first. ;)
gammathetaalpha: Thank you! Writing them was super fun
TimmyGirl: Thank you so much! I bet that imaginary cookie expired, huh? lol. Sorry about the long update, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!
StarStepper: YASSSSS BUCKYYY. And lol! THanks so much! writing them was a blast!
Kairianna864: Thank you! I love Ned too! Everyone around me gets super tired of the Marvel movies and freakouts as well. The struggle is real. lol.
Jeyfeather1234: Yeah...I'm definitely a darker/more intense/direness and actiony type writer. lol. I put these guys through a hard time, but I usually come through for them eventually ;)
cargumentluv: Aw thanks so much! I hope so too! We will see...
LoonyLovegood1981: Ahhhh thank YOU for all the lovely reviews! I have a blast writing this. And I will definitely let you guys know when/if I am able to get my book published! I also love Ned and writing his pov was such a refreshing break from the gloom and doom. Bucky's hanging in there!
Shadow-wolf78: Thanks!
icotnoir: Lol thank you! Figured I should shake things up with a LOTR reference, and also a callback to Silent Night. ;) Glad you liked!
EleanorGardner: AHHHHH THANK YOU! I try so hard and really love hearing when people are happy with the characterizations! Seriously, thank you so so so so so much! And LOTR references, I just HAD to! XD
screechyfangirl: You're welcome. lol
Heroes21: ahhhh omg thank you! :D
GinaBoo: Thanks for your lovely review, as always! Glad you enjoyed Ned's POV and hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
AppleSpongeCake: *evil grin*
Chocolate369: Love your username by the way. I definitely have plans to do MJ's POV in the fifth installment in this series (I may have already written a chapter for her). Yeah, it'll be a little while before everyone can meet up, I'm afraid. Lots of anticipation, lots of possibilities! Can't wait to share it all with you guys! You're in for a crazy ride. Thanks for the review!
EndoftheLine: OMG thank you! I'm so glad you like it! It's fun getting into teenage Peter Parker's head. Like, you know Bucky is just straight up strategizing and worrying and planning and Peter's over there like, would he be Aragorn in the Fellowship? LOL. Poor Bruce! XD I'm so mean to him. Well, I'm mean to everyone in these stories. lol. Glad you are enjoying and hope this one was enjoyable as well!
Star Wars: You're the second person to notice that! Which is crazy, because I've never even seen those episodes! I probably should! Would be great inspiration!
Guest: Diabolical is extremely accurate. lol. I'll take it. Thank you so much! I love Bucky as well. Every time I write a situation, he's always changing things up like nope, I'm not on board with that. lol
gandalf537: Lol! Glad you liked it! I really enjoyed writing him as well. Was a nice break from all the crazy!
Thank you as always for the lovely reviews, guys. They mean the world to me. I will endeavor to update quicker this time, but can make no promises.
COMING UP
Chapter Eleven: Troublesome Waters
Things are looking grim for our heroes. (When are they not, though? Honestly I am terrible) Steve and Wanda are forced to come up with a dangerous plan, Peter comes up with an even MORE dangerous plan, and Bruce makes a sudden, shocking discovery. (Also, first time writing Dr. Banner's POV :D)