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Ch 17

"Hey, you can't leave me locked up in here!" Flash bellowed, struggling against his restraints. He was zip tied to a chair- boy these fuckers liked doing that to him- and growled like a caged lion.

Norman Osbourne stood a few feet away, his back to him, typing into a computer. "Patience, Mr. Flash."

"Don't tell me to be patient! Let me the hell out of here!"

"I would... if things had gone according to plan, I would have. But now," He sighed, "Sadly, now, we must make due."

"What the hell are you talking about? You're crazy!"

"It's funny how brilliant and crazy are often one and the same." Osbourne said. He turned around then, and Flash's eyes immediately went to the syringe in his hand. It was full of a sickly pink liquid.

Norman couldn't quite believe he held what he had in his hand. It was said to have been near impossible to replicate. But then again, he was Norman Osbourne. No one had the resources that he did. No one could do what he did.

"What is that?" Flash asked.

"A promise," Norman said. "A promise of things to come." And he walked forward.

8888

Man, it was good to be back. Peter swung through New York city, his home, enjoying the wind on his face. S.H.I.E.L.D had docked the helicarrier nearby, and it floated there like an invisible war ship.

But, ah, he never got tired of this... never got tired of New York.

But, he had a mission. The lights in the restaurants had turned down low, the street lamps had blazed to life, and Felicia, if he had assumed correctly, would be prowling the streets along with the thugs.

A flash of black and white was caught out of the corner of his eye. There, on the corner of 5th and Broadway, there she was. She was fighting with a man that had a ski cap covering his face. Another man was running up the street toward them.

Could she handle both of these clowns?

He contemplated on sitting back and stepping in if she needed him until he saw the gleam of a glock in his hand.

Well, that just wasn't fair.

Peter dropped down silently behind the man. He had stopped running and he was aiming, aiming at Felicia... Peter kicked the gun out of his hand. He hated guns. His Uncle had been killed by a gun...

But there was no time for that now.

"You know," Peter said, diving the man's blows that were aimed for his head. "You're late to the party, and you didn't even bring a cake." He kicked the man, and he went flying against the wall. He secured him there with webbing.

Felicia wheeled at his voice, and the man she was fighting with clocked her across the face. She went down hard.

Peter gritted his teeth and grabbed the man's fist. "Real men do not hit women. I can see you're not one." He head butted him, and the man collapsed.

He then turned to Felicia who was on the ground, a hand to her stinging face. "You alright?"

"You're back." She said.

"The one and only." He replied, and gave her a salute.

"I didn't need your help." She said, getting to her feet.

"Oh, not this again." He said, throwing up his hands.

"Well, who do you think has been monitoring this city while you've been God knows where?"

She had a point there. While Peter was off with S.H.I.E.L.D, he had left his city vacant.

"Thanks for helping out," He said.

"And what? Now you're going to disappear again?" She demanded. "I've been looking for you."

"Well, now you found me."

They were both silent a moment, staring at each other.

"I know who you are." She said.

Peter stiffened. There was no way she could know that. No possible way. Unless... unless... unless she had followed him that night after the whole OsCorp fiasco. "What?"

"You know who I am. I know who you are." She said.

Focus on the mission, Parker. "That doesn't matter right now." Peter said.

"Of course it matters." She said quietly. She turned away from him, and when she looked back, she wasn't wearing her mask. The girl that had looked up at him from the desk at the Daily Bugle stared him down. "This changes things." She thought back to the conversation she had with Norman Osbourne a few days ago. The things he had told her. About Spiderman, and his real identity; about what he could do for her father, about what he asked her to do... "I trust you." She whispered.

He looked deep into her eyes. He wanted to take off his mask for her and reveal himself. But he wouldn't. She could be lying; but then, when he brought her into S.H.I.E.L.D, she'd eventually see him without his mask, wouldn't she? "I need you to come with me."

She squinted, "Where?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D has a few questions for you."

"What's S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Strategic Homeland..." Peter started. What the hell was the whole damn name again? "Super Heroic..." He shook his head, "It's a branch of the government. I think."

"And you trust them?"

Peter thought back to Tony's words.

"Listen, don't get too comfortable here. Don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D blindly. They will give you a gift, but it's not really a gift, it's a prison sentence."

In all honesty, he didn't know S.H.I.E.L.D all that well. But, he didn't know Felicia that well either, and for the most part, they both had his back. So, why not join them all together and be friends?

"Yes," He said, not sure if he believed his own words, "I trust them."

"Then I will come with you." She said.

"Just like that?" He asked, quirking his eyebrow and then remembering that she couldn't see it with his mask on.

"Just like that." She said, "Afterall, what do we have in this world if we don't have trust?"

8888

He knew he should get Felicia back to S.H.I.E.L.D as fast as humanly possible. He knew that. He also knew that if he didn't at least check in on Aunt May, then he'd be the worst nephew in this history of nephews.

Felicia promised him that she would meet him at that exact spot in the morning. If she didn't show, he would have to start the process all over again. But seeing his Aunt's house loom before him brought back a wave of memories.

He had only known this house as his home. After the thing with his parents, this was the only place he had ever felt safe. It was dark, save for a light on in the livingroom. Aunt May had probably fallen asleep while watching tv.

He walked up and entered through the front door quietly, and didn't call out for her, afraid that if his instincts had be right, he would wake her.

He walked into the living room, and sure enough, his aunt was cuddled in Uncle Ben's favorite chair, an old recliner, and she was snoring softly, a crocheted afghan half covering her sleeping form.

Peter watched her for a moment, and then as softly as he could, reached up and covered, tucking the afghan around her.

She stirred. "Peter?" She asked, and when her eyes fell on him, her pupils dialated. "Peter!" She sprang to her feet, and crushed him to her, holding on to him so tightly he was sure her bones would snap. "Where have you been?" She demanded.

Ah, yes. The questions. How was he going to diffuse this bomb?

"I've been with Gwen." He said quickly. "Helping her get settled in her new apartment."

He thought about springing the baby news on her, but decided to wait until they were certain-he was certain- that everything would work out okay. He could not go down that road right now.

"Oh, Peter." Aunt May said, and pulled away from him. She gathered her wits, and started rolling the afghan in her arms. "You couldn't call? I've been calling and calling and just getting voicemail."

He could not even recall where his old phone was. S.H.I.E.L.D had provided he and Gwen with new ones though, ones Stark had modified. "I got a new phone... and I'm still learning how to use it."

She eyed him dubiously.

"Look, I'm sorry, Aunt May, Gwen and I..."

"I get it. You're in love, I get it." Aunt May said, "But the next time you want some alone time, just give me a heads up, okay?" She walked into the kitchen, and Peter followed.

"You're not mad?" He asked.

"I was young once." She told him. "Uncle Ben and I would take romantic getaways to the Hamptons. Drove my parents crazy."

Peter smiled.

"You're a good boy, and a smart boy. I know you won't do something stupid like get Gwen pregnant."

Peter gulped.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, pulling open the fridge.

"No. I can't stay, Aunt May." He turned to head to the door.

She followed him. "Well, when are you coming back?"

"I put my new number on the fridge. I don't know. Gwen and I just want to enjoy our summer before classes start."

Classes. College. Was that even in their future anymore? He rested his head against the front door, thinking.

"Alright, alright." Aunt May said, throwing up her hands. "Just keep in touch, okay?" She reached up, and he bent his head down so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"Do me a favor, Aunt May, okay?"

She looked at him.

"Just... don't go down any dark alleys or take the subway home alone at night."

There. A few words to ease his conscious. His guilty conscious about leaving her here alone. For a fleeting second, he thought about asking Fury if he could bring her on board with him. But then he'd have to tell her that he was Spiderman. And he didn't know how that would work out.

"Peter, I'm perfectly capable.."

"Just please." He said, "For me?"

And her face softened at the pleading in his eyes. She kissed his cheek again. "Okay." She said. "For you."

888888

Gwen was sure she was seeing things. How long did it take for the "pregnancy brain" to happen? But then again, wasn't that just about forgetting things? She was on her way back to her room after an afternoon with Tony and Bruce in the lab, and she had stopped by the kitchen, a spoon of yogurt dangling from her mouth.

But Gwen was sure that there was a man slumped against an outside door of the helicarrier. She looked up and down the hallway and found it deserted. Surely, S.H.I.E.L.D would know if there was someone on the deck of their ship?

Cautiously, she stepped forward, closer to the doors, and closer to the man. His back was to her, his greasy black hair blowing lightly in the wind. His head was back against the wall. Gwen gathered up her nerve, walked to the door, and yanked it open, never thinking that it could be a trap, only knowing that someone needed help...

It was indeed a man. A heavily muscled man with one of his arms cocooned in metal. His eyes were closed, and the skin on his face had been tanned from the sun. How long had he been out here?

She checked his neck for a pulse, and found it there, drumming normally beneath her fingers. "Sir?" She called out.

The man didn't respond.

Gwen poked her head back into the ship, "Help!" She called, "I need some help over here!"

Within moments, a flurry of activity filled the hallways. Agents came running down the hall, guns in hand. Steve Rodgers was among them. He didn't have a gun, just a concerned look on his face. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, spotted Gwen standing in the threshold of the door, and jogged over to her. "Did you yell?"

"Yes. There's an unconscious man out here."

"What?!" Steve demanded, brushing by her. He stumbled back at the sight of the man against the wall.

"Do you know him?" Gwen asked, furrowing her brow.

"Bucky?" Steve whispered.