Chapter Text
"It's good to have you back, Little Spider. I missed you so much."
Peter read about Capgras Delusions during his freshman year of high school. It had both fascinated and disturbed him—the idea of one day waking up and believing everyone was an imposter hiding in their loved ones' skin. He couldn't imagine the fear and confusion that someone would feel under the influence of such a jarring delusion.
As Peter laid strapped to a table in a too white room, looking up at the woman who raised him, he finally understood.
It was disorienting at first, like he couldn't quite grasp what he was seeing. It was like an optical illusion. One picture bled into another, and now he couldn't un-see it.
The woman smiling down at him wasn't his Aunt May anymore. She felt wrong to Peter—unnatural even, like a distorted image of herself. It was as if a high-tech hologram had dissipated, revealing a monster darker and more sinister than anything he'd ever seen.
The memories that had been repressed to the dark recesses of his mind were surging forward, tainting everything he thought he knew.
This was the woman who walked him straight into a too-white, too clean lab and let people experiment on him. The one that held him down as he screamed—then took him out for ice cream and pretended like nothing ever happened. The one who would kiss Ben on the cheek after their "special dates" before lying straight to his face about where they'd been.
It wasn't his May, but it was at the same time. He never would have believed it if the memories weren't carved in his own mind.
Peter choked on a sob.
How could someone do that to somebody they loved? More importantly, how did Peter not remember any of this before now?
"I know, honey," May crooned. "I wish things didn't have to happen this way, but I'm just glad you're finally home where you belong."
Home?
Images of their empty apartment in ruin burned against Peter's eyelids. He watched his entire childhood erupt in flames all over again, the rubble crumbling to the ground below. It was surprisingly fitting, considering his situation.
This place wasn't home, but neither was that apartment. Maybe that was why Peter had clung so tightly to Tony from the start. Part of him must have known he was safer with the Avengers than he'd ever been with her.
A tear ran down Peter's face and May wiped it away with her thumb, sending a wave of unpleasant tingles down his spine.
May pulled her hand back to check the restraints then fished a small flashlight from her pocket. She double clicked it to make sure it was working then cleared her throat, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "Okay, kiddo. Let's show these guys how it's done. Eyes front."
Peter's mind blanked and he stiffened instinctively at the command, his eyes darting to the tiled ceiling above him.
Comply, Asset, a voice purred.
Peter didn't need to be reminded. He had heard the command dozens of times before as a child, and it was his duty to obey. Resisting commands lead to punishments.
"Good job," she said, proudly.
When the beam of light hit his eyes, though, Peter snapped out of the conditioned response and jolted back into awareness. He sucked in a shuddered breath through clenched teeth and blinked away the fog.
What the hell?
Comply. Comply. Comply.
Peter ignored the urgent voice in his head and shrunk as far away from May as the restraints would allow. May didn't seem to notice, clicking the light off again and dropping it back in her pocket. She turned to the table lined with collection tubes and a syringe to pick up a nylon tourniquet.
Peter jerked his eyes away, cinching them shut. Blood. Needles. Bruises.
"Don't. Please," he whimpered.
May's eyebrows knitted together for a split second, then her face softened. "It's okay if the commands don't come back right away. It's been a few years. I'm sure it's scary to wake up and not remember anything, but I'm here to take care of you. Now, Eyes Front."
Peter tensed, but he managed to fight back the rising urge to do as she said, focusing on the words before the command. He scoffed wetly, betrayal etched deep in his face.
"What are you talking about, May?" Peter asked, his bottom lip trembling. "Why are you working with them? Why did you-" Hurt me. Use me. Pretend to love me. "Why are you doing this?"
May tilted her head at him and dropped the tourniquet back onto the table, looking from the weeping burns on his temples to the data sheet next to the syringe. The electroshock therapy Peter underwent lasted over three hours at a high enough current that would have killed a normal person. He should have been effectively reset.
"You remember me," she said calmly, despite the twisting knife in her gut. This was not how things were supposed to go. "What all do you recall?"
Peter gaped at her in disbelief. "Of course I remember you! I remember everything now. All of it!"
May bit the inside of her bottom lip. That was going to be a problem. She looked toward the three nurses in the viewing bay above them, then to the camera in the corner of the room. The light stayed green.
"Commence with reconditioning and prepare to utilize trigger words," a voice said into May's comm.
Peter blanched and looked to May in fear. Reconditioning? Like with Bucky? Were they going to make him into a Winter Soldier?
"Yes, sir," May said.
"What? No! Don't listen to him," Peter shouted. He yanked at his restraints and pain lanced through every broken bone in his hand. He growled in frustration then looked to May pleadingly. "Just let me up so we can talk, please. You don't have to do this! Whatever they are doing to you, we can stop it, okay? Just-just let me out so I can help you."
"You're excused," May said to the nurses. "Everyone but Adams can go. Adams, you're with me."
May kept her eyes averted as she crossed the back of the metal table.
"May! Listen to me," Peter punched out. "Please!"
May didn't respond as her hands moved to unlatch the restraint across his forehead. The metal buckle clanked against the railing as it dropped and he swiveled his head to look up at her. She gave him a sad smile, and a swell of hope leapt to his throat. She was letting him out. She was going to let him go.
"Thank you," Peter exclaimed, shakily. "Just hurry okay? I don't know when more people will come."
May didn't move to release his arms or his legs, though. Peter swiveled his head around to see what May was doing, but there was only so much he could do with the rest of his body strapped down. There was the sound of metal creaking and clanking against metal, then the back door opened.
"May? Who is that? Are you okay?" Peter asked.
He hissed when cold paddles suddenly dug into his blistered wounds. There was a sharp click of something being fastened to his head, and Peter sobered, his stomach rolling. He was going to be sick. It was the electroconvulsive headset.
"What-no. No, no, no, no. Not again, please," Peter begged.
May continued to adjusted the headset until it was secure, then motioned for the nurse to step forward. She waited until the nurse was at Peter's side before walking away.
"Prep him please," May said.
"No. No, May, please," he called after her. "May, stop! Come back! Please! Just talk to me!"
The nurse forced his jaw open and shoved a rubber mouth guard between his teeth, then fastened it to the table with a strap. He tried to scream for May to help him, but all that came out was muffled gurgles as he gagged.
May stood at the desk a few yards away from where he laid, navigating the screen in front of her. Peter squirmed and writhed, trying to shake the headset off to no avail.
May cleared her throat. "Memory Wipe: Attempt Two. Vitals are steady. Moving forward with extraction."
Peter's eyes widened with dread at the metallic whirring of the machine charging up behind him. Even if he had almost no memory of this happening the first time, he already knew what was coming.
There was a split second before the excruciating pain wracked through his body where he thought of Steve, where he begged and pleaded to the universe to keep him safe and as far away from this place as possible.
He was jealous-in that moment-of how strong Steve always was. He was here shaking like a frightened child, but Steve would be putting on a brave face. He would be strong and confident and beautiful-a force to be reckoned with.
Peter wondered what Steve was doing and if he was okay: if they were looking for him, or if they knew Hydra had taken him at all. He wondered if Steve was missing him, and if Bucky would ever step up and fill the space Peter was going to leave behind.
Peter tried to picture Steve's radiant victorious smile, paired with those clear blue eyes that seemed far too wise for those of a man his age. He imagined running his hand through Steve's golden Hero-Hair-always perfectly coifed, even after running for miles.
Then his lungs seized, squeezing out every last bit of oxygen and turning them to stone, and all he knew was pain.
Peter had imagined what Bucky had been through as the Winter Soldier, but after everything that happened with the cube and Gwen and all of the memories he regained, he honestly thought he had gotten a taste of what true pain was. He was wrong.
This was literally hell. Electricity licked at his skin, burning through every cell of his body and lighting his nerve endings aflame with agony. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He didn't know if he was screaming or if the deafening noise he heard was the ringing of his blood in his ears.
Peter threw his head back with a sudden increase of electricity and tears splashed onto the cold vinyl table. Even with the guard in his mouth, Peter just knew his teeth were going to shatter.
After what felt like hours, the pain finally stopped, but his body was left quaking with residual shocks. He gagged from the churning force of his nausea and his head lolled to the side. It took every ounce of brainpower to get himself breathing again. There were no more thoughts of Hydra or Gwen or Miles. No Steve or Tony or Nat or Bucky-just nothingness. It was like his head was filled with cotton, only focused on soaking in as much stale sterile air as he could and trying valiantly not to throw up with the bit in his mouth.
"It's not going to work," Happy said matter-of-factly from the door.
May jumped from the sudden break in silence then glanced worriedly to Peter, afraid that the newfound memories of his handler would cause another bout of hysteria, but Peter was still completely out of it. His eyes were closed, and his hair was already drenched in sweat, beads of it covering every inch of visible skin and bleeding into his shirt.
May relaxed a little at the sight and Happy smiled patiently as he approached. He could read her like a book. It was adorable, the way she worried for Happy, but he was more than capable of controlling Peter. They just needed to get Peter in the right mind set.
"He's a bit sturdier than we anticipated," he said with a sigh, sticking his hands in his pant pockets. "I should have known, honestly. The kid can take a punch."
"Adams, check his vitals," May ordered. The nurse nodded and May turned to face Happy, leaning against the desk and pursing her lips. "I knew it would be harder to wipe him once he got the bite, but this is unbelievable. He is getting even more amperage than The Winter Soldier. If you would've asked me yesterday, I would've told you three hours was disgustingly excessive-maybe borderline sadistic-but now...I don't know. It's amazing."
Happy nodded understandingly. "It is. Peter is definitely something. We knew that from the start."
May huffed out a small laugh, looking over at Peter fondly. "Tell me about it. Working with him is the project of the century."
"It will be even better when we gain control of him again," Happy said absentmindedly. He watched the nurse wipe at Peter's forehead, and after a moment, he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you should know that the higher ups are starting to talk. They're thinking that we are too close to Peter to do what's necessary for the Project to be successful."
May's face scrunched up in offense. "You can't be serious. We've been working toward this for years. They can't let someone else take over just when we got him back."
"We will take it one day at a time, but first, we need to get Peter wiped."
"Right. Of course," May said, flustered. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and motioned over the nurse. "Adams?"
The two women quietly discussed Peter's vitals and coherence levels before May made a few adjustments on the time limit for the shock.
"Vitals are raised but within range. Administering second shock," May said.
Just before she flipped the switch, Happy leaned forward to increase the amperage, but May's hand shot out of nowhere, gripping his fingers tightly. He raised an amused brow at her and May flushed, releasing his hand awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, but if it goes any higher, we could risk brain damage," she said, apologetically. "It's already at 80 milliamps."
"Then we turn it to 90," Happy said, staring at Peter with a determined glint in his eye. He turned the knob carefully then flipped the switch, causing muffled screams to tear through the room. "The Spider has enhanced healing. Let's put it to use."
****
The sun was just starting to peek through the window as Steve stood at the edge of his bed and carefully folded his clothes, getting lost in the repetitive monotony of it all. Remove from hanger. Fold. Place in bag. Remove from hanger. Fold. Place in bag. Remove from hanger...
Steve's hands were shaking, though. His usually pristine folds were wobbly and wrinkled, but he didn't stop to fix them, nor did he give up on his task. He soldiered on through the dread and the hurt and the overwhelming loneliness just as he was trained to do. His world was crumbling, but if he could do nothing else, he was going to get his bag packed.
Every now and again, he would pick up his phone and check for new notifications. It had been days since he last got an update from any of the team's contacts but that didn't keep him from obsessively refreshing his emails. He had spent half the night calling in every favor he could think of, but there was nothing he could do that would quiet the broken record in his head, telling him he wasn’t doing enough.
Bucky watched him from the doorway, carefully distanced but supportive as he had been for days. He wanted to do more than just stand there, but he didn't know what to do in the face of Steve's silence.
Bucky had googled it the night after Steve's panic attack. "How to comfort someone mourning a loss." The results had ranged from not helpful in the least to unbearably stupid. Steve had lost his boyfriend to a maniacal group of terrorists with a history of torture long enough to fill a text book. What good was baking Steve cookies or offering to do his laundry going to do?
As much as it broke Bucky's heart to hold Steve as he wept, it was easier than the cold distance between them now. Bucky could coax Steve to count the things in the room he could see or touch or smell, rub Steve's back, and fall back on everything else Bucky's therapist had told him to do for himself during an attack, but there was no guideline for how to deal with the aftermath.
Steve didn't want to talk about Peter being gone outside of the mechanics of what they could do to get him back. He hardly slept and when he did, it was only for a few hours. More often than not, Steve woke looking impossibly worse than he did before crashing.
Bucky tried not to let Steve get his hopes up, but there was no easy way to do that. He couldn't tell Steve to give up. He wouldn't, even if he knew Steve would listen. Bucky wanted Peter back and safe just as badly as the others, but watching Steve wither away on the off chance they could find even a trail of Hydra was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
Bucky suppressed a sigh. When he told Peter he would watch out for Steve, he figured it meant keeping Steve busy-not preparing him for a funeral.
If he was being honest, Bucky wasn't exactly thrilled with Steve's plan to meet with Zemo. The guy had a way of getting in their heads. He would exploit every weakness he could pry from them and use it against them at the first chance. It wasn’t like they were left with many options at this point, though. He could only hope that the others would come up with a less terrible plan before they boarded the jet.
Steve zipped up his bag and walked to his bathroom, leaving the door open. He turned on the cold water and splashed it on his face, letting it run down his neck as he braced himself against the sink.
"Are you ready to leave yet?" Steve called out.
"Yeah. All set."
Bucky had been packed and ready to leave since the night Steve told him they were going. One would think that he would be trying to avoid his fate with how anxious the idea of confronting Zemo made him, but Bucky was slowly learning that running away from his problems did not have a good history of working out for him. It was better to face his issues head on-even if they were about to do something very, very stupid.
Steve looked up at his reflection in the mirror and found Bucky's steel-grey eyes staring back at him. He flinched away from the sincere look of concern in them. No, concern wasn't the right word. It was pity.
Bucky was usually the person Steve could depend on never to look at him like that. Growing up, Steve got those looks all the time. From teachers, peers, parents, everyone...Steve hated it. He didn't need pity. He wasn't weak, his body just didn't seem to agree at the time. Bucky understood that, and when Steve wanted to do something, Bucky worked his damnedest to make sure Steve did it. Bucky doubted Steve less than Steve doubted himself.
Seeing that look on his face though...Bucky didn't think Peter was coming home.
Steve dropped his eyes back to the water, his jaw tensing as he gripped the sink tighter, anger mixing in with all the other torrential emotions hiding behind his blank stare.
Why was it that every time Steve looked at someone he felt the urge to fall apart all over again?
Steve swallowed back the lump in his throat and grabbed a towel from the hook to dry(and hide) his face. "Good. We should get going."
Bucky didn't move from where he stood and Steve kept his eyes lowered as he grabbed his suitcase. Bucky wanted to stalk over, grab Steve's face, and force him to look at him. He wanted to drag his ass outside and make Steve tell him how to help him. He didn't think it would help anything though.
Steve tossed his backpack over his shoulder and Bucky's arm shot to the doorframe Steve tried to pass.
There had to be something Bucky was supposed to say here-something to give Steve the strength to keep going despite the odds- but Bucky had no idea what they were. Words of comfort weren't easy for him on his best days, but knowing that any comfort he could give Steve would taste sour with dishonesty made them that much harder to say. He wasn't going to lie, but he couldn't say the truth either.
Steve exhaled sharply out his nose and steeled his face when he looked up. "What, Buck? If you have something to say, just say it."
Bucky met his gaze just as intently, trying to conjure up even the slightest helpful string of words, then dropped his arm in defeat. "You driving or me?"
Steve's lips quirked up on one side, but the weariness never left his eyes. "I'm sure we can put it on autopilot."
"Good," Bucky grunted. "I need a nap."
Steve rolled his eyes with a huff and they headed for the roof.
Steve was fairly certain he prepared for everything, but when he opened the doors to the landing pad and saw Sam, Tony, and Natasha waiting for them, he found himself surprised. He didn't know if it was a pleasant one or not, though.
Having to tell Natasha and Sam everything that happened was difficult to say the least. It was unbelievable how quickly things had devolved in their absence. Steve still couldn't think about how quickly they'd given in to Peter without feeling like his insides were being torn out through his chest.
Natasha had gone into full Black Widow mode the moment the meeting ended and disappeared for two days, trying to gather everything she could. Tony had been pretty broken up about it, but when she came back with bruised knuckles, blood spattered clothes, and a list in hand, he welcomed her back with open arms.
"I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do at this exact second," Tony had said.
Between Tony, Nat, Sam, Steve, and Bucky, they managed to plow through the list of possible locations in just three days, but the intel was old. Place after place was abandoned, stripped clean of any traces that Hydra had been there at all.
Since then, they had been doing everything they could from the Tower, just waiting on Pepper to sort everything out with Ross. It was a pain, but the last thing Peter needed was for the only people looking for him to be thrown in the Raft.
Even with everyone in the same building, Steve hadn't seen anyone but Bucky in two days. Bruce, Thor, and Loki were working together in the lab. Natasha and Tony were out scouting from the ground and the air. Clint was hiding away from everyone and Sam-well. Steve was avoiding Sam at all cost.
While Steve was busy sorting through his thoughts on the trio joining them, Bucky was practically sagging in relief. People. Thank god. Bucky never thought he'd say it, but he'd take all the help with Steve he could get at this point.
"I'm offended at the shock on your face, Rogers," Natasha said, cooly. "Where in my past behavior did I ever give you the idea that you would be going to see Zemo by yourselves?"
Steve met her piercing gaze with a unperturbed look. "Probably where I figured you and Tony were attached at the hip. The last time Zemo was around the three of us we almost killed each other."
Natasha blinked at his bluntness in surprise. An upset Steve was not a diplomatic Steve. Noted.
"He's got a point," Sam said, shrugging. "You guys do get pretty stupid around the guy. I guess that's why I'm here. You know, as the reasonable one."
Natasha and Bucky gave Sam a disapproving look, but Tony waved his hand with a tsk. "Come on. We're adults here. You're not giving us nearly enough credit. It's water under the bridge and all that, right Bucky?"
Bucky searched Tony's expression uncertainly, shifting in his spot, then nodded. "Uhm. Yeah. Sure."
"See? Look at us. Banding together, leaving past brainwashing incidents in the past, going to meet a psychopath. Peter would be proud," Tony said, turning to walk up the ramp to the quinjet.
The sound of Peter's name made Steve's heart clench, but he ignored it, following everyone else as they gathered their things and followed Tony inside the quinjet.
Bucky nudged Steve and nodded toward the front. "I'm going to go put in the coordinates. You good?"
Steve nodded and took his usual seat in the middle section of the jet. Tony and Natasha took the seats across the aisle from him, but Sam tossed his bag directly in front of Steve, sitting down with a smug look on his face.
So maybe Steve hadn't been as subtle in his avoidance as he'd hoped.
Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and busied himself with looking through his emails and switching between apps he'd never really used before. Sam rolled his eyes but he took the hint, disengaging Red Wing to check for any potential problems.
The jet started up and a few minutes later, Bucky came and sat beside Steve. "ETA is about 3 hours."
"Great," Tony said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. "There is nothing like a quinjet nap. Must be the hum of my ridiculously amazing engine or something."
"That must be it," Natasha agreed, grinning at him suggestively. "Up late last night?"
Tony looked to the rest of the team, then back to her. "Oh, are we doing the sexual innuendo thing around them now?" He asked, pointing down twice in question. "Okay. Cool. Then yes. I was up all night. Pounding my...shaft. In the lab."
There was an awkward pause, then all of them let out varying degrees of exasperated laughter.
"What the hell, Tony?" Sam whined. "That was just bad. I thought you were supposed to be the sexiest man alive."
"Nobody wants to hear about your shaft, Stark," Bucky added, shaking his head.
Steve couldn't stop his own smile, but he could see Tony's very lame attempt at humor for what it was. Since Natasha woke up, Tony hadn't so much as touched the bottle, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurting. He was coping with Peter's absence in the only way he knew how. It was better than the anger and alcohol, but it still wasn't healthy.
Steve didn't have any room to talk though, so he laid his head back and listened to the others joke around. They all needed a bit of humor right now, even if Steve wasn’t really in the joking mood.
Steve managed to avoid talking to Sam for about an hour and a half, but as soon as the jet quieted, everyone but Steve and Sam fell asleep. Steve could feel Sam looking at him every few minutes and eventually Sam sighed and pushed the small table to the side.
"What's going on, Steve? Are you mad at me or what?" Sam asked.
Steve startled. That was not what he was expecting at all. "What? No. Why would I be mad at you?"
"You tell me, man. You've been avoiding me like the plague since I got up," Sam said, shrugging. "Are you mad because you guys were tricked into thinking Peter was working for Hydra? Because they took me down and framed Peter for it?"
"No. That's not it at all," Steve said, frowning. "What happened to you could've happened to anyone."
Sam nodded in agreement, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I know that. I was just thinking maybe you didn't."
Steve leaned back in his chair and shook his head at the ceiling. The truth was, Steve didn't blame anyone for what happened. If the plan to send Peter to the Raft had gone the way they expected it to, it would have been solid. It would have sucked to be away from Peter, but nobody would have gotten hurt, and they would have avoided Hydra initiating another attack on New York. It didn't work out, though, and Steve didn't know how he was supposed to live with that.
"Steve?" Sam asked tentatively, tilting his head to look at his face. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
And that was exactly why Steve had been avoiding Sam. Everyone else had been content enough to give Steve his space, but Sam was not like the others. He could see through Steve. It was literally his job to see when someone was fighting their demons and he was one of the only people who knew how to coax them out. Sam was one of the only people Steve felt safe enough with to open up to.
"I don't know if I can-it's hard to put into words," Steve said, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. "There's too much going on. I go from feeling everything to feeling nothing with very little between."
Sam nodded, pleased with the answer. He thought it would be a pain to get Steve to even admit anything was wrong. As much as Sam loved the guy, Steve was about as self-reflective as a rock.
From the way the others were talking, Steve was completely shutting everyone out. They were all hoping that giving him work to focus on would make things easier for him, but when they were out checking Hydra sites, his detached demeanor only grew colder.
"Figuring out what you're feeling is hard work, but it's important," Sam said. "There's a reason that people pay psychiatrists to help them work through trauma. If you can't pinpoint what you're feeling, you can't work to fix it."
Steve didn't want to know what he was feeling. If he had to think about what he was feeling, he had to think about what caused it, and Steve was having a hard enough time as it was. He didn't want to picture Peter in chains, begging for someone to help him, or how terrified he probably was. He didn't want to think of what purpose Hydra had for Peter or all the ways he'd seen them torture people. He didn’t want to think about any of it. It was easier just to turn it all off..
"Talk to me," Sam coaxed. "Just try."
Steve let his hand fall to his side, tracing his fingers along the lines of his shield. There was an icy pit already starting to grow in his chest, impossibly cold and burning at the same time. He felt the sudden desperate need to spill out everything he'd been holding back to alleviate it, but he didn't even know where to start. He tensed his jaw and focused on sorting his thoughts.
"What's going on in my head is," Steve started quietly, sniffing back the shaking emotion in his voice. "That I'm scared we won't ever get Peter back. I'm scared that even if we do, he won't be Peter anymore-that they will twist and break him until he is unrecognizable. I miss him-more than anything in the world, I miss him, and I don't know if I'll ever see him again."
Sam listened intently, nodding along in sympathy as he spoke. Steve paused, his brows pulling together in frustration before continuing.
"I'm...angry too, I guess. At Hydra and Peter and myself. I made Peter mad so many times because I was too scared of losing him to let him risk himself, then I let him walk right into their trap. He is so selfless, and I love that about him because he reminds me everyday that we can be better and do better, but he's naive too. I should have known better. I should have locked him away when I had the chance."
"Peter wouldn't have let you do that," Sam pointed out. "Even if you would have gotten away with it, Peter would have hated you for it."
Steve gave him a look that clearly said, "that's better than him being kidnapped," but Sam just shook his head in subdued amusement.
"Okay, I'll give you that. I'm sure all of us have thought about locking our loved ones away at one point or another. This job makes us see the ugliest parts of the world, but we can't hide them away out of fear of losing them, no matter how much we might want to," Sam said.
Steve let out a self-deprecating chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You know, I keep thinking that one day I'll become numb to all of this-losing people and all the awful things that happen. I keep telling myself that there's only so much hurt one man can take, but it just-keeps-hurting," Steve admitted, his voice strained with unshed tears. He looked up at Sam and shrugged. "And I can't do a damned thing about it."
Steve had literally lost a lifetime's worth of people and that in itself qualified Steve for a lifetime’s worth of therapy, but this was different. Steve didn't have a lot of meaningful relationships in his life before he went into the ice. The only people he had ever loved before Peter was Peggy and Bucky. In Steve's mind, he lost everyone he loved at one point. It was an inevitability.
Bucky came back, and his relationship with the team was on the mend, but this was like losing Peggy all over again-except this time, the relationship was real. Peter and Steve weren't just a promise for better days to come, but truly together in every sense of the word.
A hand landed on Steve's shoulder and he looked over at Bucky. His eyes were still closed, hair falling in his face, but he gripped onto Steve tightly, acting as an anchor. Steve's eyes started to burn and he hiccuped quietly.
"Listen, Steve," Sam said softly. "You can't go into this thinking of the worst possible outcomes. They wanted Peter for what was probably years. They wouldn't just kill him. We are all here for you, even if some of us don't know how to show it. We will find him, and whenever we do-we will deal with whatever version of Peter we get back, no matter how long it takes."
Steve knew that. There was nothing Steve wouldn't do for Peter. If it took every day for the rest of his life, Steve would help Peter pick up the pieces of his life. Steve just wasn't sure if Peter would forgive him enough to let Steve help him.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat, thankful that he had friends that cared about him enough to follow him to the pits of hell. "Yeah. Yeah, I hope so."
*****
Miles tapped on the art table restlessly. Not having Peter around was...weird. He kept thinking they would bring him back any minute, but it had almost been three days since they woke up to find him gone.
Gwen kept asking when Peter would be back and Miles had no idea what to tell her. She got really upset when Miles told her they would just have to wait it out and Miles was at a loss with how to make her happy again. Normally she was pretty reasonable for her age, but after having what little consistency in their lives ripped away, she was grumpier than usual.
Miles pushed himself away from the desk to get his laptop, but stopped when Gwen began to hum quietly to herself. She continued to gently place her perler beads on a pegboard, her little voice cracking with the sound of the half-forgotten song. The melody railed, losing its way a while before it finally circled back and began again. A moment later the door to the lab opened.
Gwen's eyes shot up and she broke into a grin. "Peter!"
Peter didn't respond, moving mechanically with two guards at his side, and two more trailing behind him. It was strange seeing Peter awake outside of the glass. They never kept Peter awake. Maybe they decided that he had been good. Maybe he could start doing his testing with Gwen and Miles, so he didn’t look so sad in there by himself.
The thought of Peter happy made her happy, but Gwen's face slowly fell when she saw Mr. Hogan.
Mr. Hogan was one of the handlers. She didn't know what that word meant in itself, but she knew what it meant for Peter. She had only seen people get a handler twice, but it never happened this fast. They always assigned handlers before the third round of testing. Gwen shot Miles a fearful look, but he just swallowed, staring at Peter's eerily blank face.
Peter stopped just outside the glass and Gwen gasped.
"They hurt him! He's bleeding," she cried, springing toward him.
Peter looked terrible. His eyes were sunken in and the burns on his temples were angry and wet. He was wearing a t-shirt too big for his withering frame, but bruises were still visible on his left wrist and his right hand was covered in a cast.
One of the guards stepped forward, glowering down at her. "Away from the door."
Gwen glared back at him defiantly, but Miles pulled her back behind him and slowly stepped back until they were at the table again.
Happy gave Gwen a small wave then spoke, but she shied back behind Miles. "Attention, паук.
Peter's hands shot to his sides and he tensed, staring straight forward.
"Repeat mission objectives," Happy ordered.
"Protect and detain," Peter answered immediately.
Happy nodded, then waved the guards to open the door. "At ease. Go on."
Peter relaxed and stepped inside the containment cube without a word. Happy gave Peter one last proud look before he and his entourage left, leaving the room with a heavy silence.
Gwen cautiously stepped out from behind Miles, but he kept a firm grip on her shirt shoulder just in case. The only other time Miles had seen someone come back like this, they had acted crazy. Miles looked up to Peter a lot, but it was Miles’ job to protect Gwen.
"Peter?" Miles asked slowly. "Are you okay?"
Peter looked down at Miles like he was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out, but nodded.
"They did the test, didn't they?" Gwen asked, her eyes shifting to his burns. "They hurt your head."
Peter's brows furrowed. He remembered the chair, and the handler going over his orders, but after hearing those words...
IV. Doctor. Trapped. Hospital. Loneliness. Silver. Death.
Everything else had just slipped away, the pain, the fear, his memories. They weren't gone-he could feel them like a presence in the back of his mind-but they felt unimportant. Inconvenient. Inconsequential. They were too far away and he had no desire to reach for them.
"Yes," Peter answered.
"Do you remember us?" Miles asked.
Peter looked over both of their faces intently. Curly black hair and mocha eyes. Bright blue eyes and freckles. Peter averted his gaze and shook his head despite the pressing feeling that he did. "I don't."
"That's okay," Gwen said, but her disappointment was clear in her half-hearted smile. She took Peter's hand to pull him over to the table. "We can teach you again."
Miles' hands clenched at his side. Something told him that was a lot easier said than done.
Gwen pushed Peter gently into his chair, then stood beside Miles at the front of the table. She intertwined her hands in front of her in her best teacher impersonation.
"My name is Gwendolyn Stacey, and Miles Morales is my brother," she explained, gesturing animatedly. "You are Peter, but I sometimes call you Petey. Miles doesn't though. He just likes Peter."
Peter nodded along.
"You say I'm an artist and you make me eat food even when I don't want to so I don't feel sick. You and Miles like to play games and fight," she continued. "And...Uhm."
Gwen looked to Miles for help and he sighed. "Gwennie, I don't think this is going to help."
Gwen frowned at him, then turned to Peter with a hand on her hip. "Are you learning anything?"
"You are Gwendolyn Stacey and he is Miles Morales. I am in charge of monitoring your eating habits and engaging you in training," Peter repeated back.
Gwen raised a brow at Miles smugly. "Pretty sure it's working."
Miles rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just show him the picture you made for him?"
Gwen's eyes widened in excitement. "Oh yeah! One sec!"
Gwen ran off to her cube to shuffle through her work from the past two days, but Miles was still watching Peter warily, his hand resting on the back of his chair where he stood.
"They took Gwen when you were gone," Miles said. "She doesn't remember what happened to her either."
Peter stared down at the table.
"Do you know what happened to her?" Miles asked. He waited but Peter didn't respond. Miles stepped forward and shook Peter's shoulder gently. "Peter. Do you know what they did to her?"
There was the faintest flash of recognition in Peter's face when he looked up, but then it was gone, replaced with a hard glare.
"Stop," Peter ordered. "We shouldn't discuss confidential matters."
Miles considered pressing but sighed and sat down. Miles knew that having Peter around was too good to be true. It didn’t take long for Hydra to take away the people he cared about. Why would Peter be any different?
Gwen finally found her picture and brought it over, placing it in front of Peter. There were three figures holding hands standing out against the white background. Even drawn wearing a bright purple shirt, Peter knew the one on the left was meant to be him, with Gwen in the middle and Miles on the right.
Peter carefully lifted the page with shaking hands.
"Do you like it?" Gwen asked.
Objectives: Protect and Detain. Do not harm or injure. Remain inside containment until released.
Peter's face scrunched up at the voice as he traced the wobbly lines of Gwen's name in the top corner. "Yes."
Gwen smiled and scooted her chair across the floor loudly to get closer to him. "See? Miles is holding his controller, and I'm wearing my dress, and you have a star! Just like on Captain America's shield."
Peter nodded, then pushed the paper away.
Miles held his breath, waiting for a tantrum to erupt, but Gwen didn't look bothered. She simply pulled her box of beads and the pegboard to her new spot. "Miles, can we listen to music? I think Peter likes your music."
Miles bit the inside of his cheek but opened his laptop to open his music library. "Yeah. Sure."
*****
The group of Avengers stood in the brightly lit hallway of Zemo's prison in Berlin. The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, but close to ten minutes to arriving everyone was restless. Now that they were there, they were ready to charge in guns blazing. Bucky had other ideas, though.
"You guys should wait out here," he said.
"What?" Steve demanded. "No. I'm not letting you go in there alone. I can help you."
"He is not your biggest fan. Actually he kind of hates all of you," Bucky said, pointedly. "Besides, he was obsessed with Hydra. We have a history. I got this."
"No, I'm with Capcicle on this one. I didn't ride three hours just to be pushed to the backseat," Tony said. "You can talk to him, but I'm going to hear what he has to say for myself."
"Yeah. The history you’re counting on kind of includes him trapping you in a cave to get killed by Tony. We are going inside," Sam agreed.
Bucky huffed but turned and stalked down the hall to join the guard.
Sam's shoulders dropped with a sigh. "I'll get him."
"Drama Queens," Natasha murmured. Tony snorted and grabbed her hand to follow Bucky and Sam.
Steve trailed shortly after them, feeling more like he was on a field trip with a bunch of adult children than on a mission with superheroes.
The guard waited until they were all there then opened the door to the dimly lit room.
Bucky motioned for them to stay at the back, but of course, Steve stepped firmly beside him. Bucky knew there was no point in arguing with him on this, so he gave Steve a hard look, then nodded. "Fine. Come on."
Steve had to admit, seeing Zemo locked away in a glass box was satisfying. Even if the events of the Civil War lead Steve to meeting Peter, everything that came before that was horrible. Fighting with Tony, his friends getting locked away, framing Bucky for an assassination Zemo committed. If anyone deserved to be in that box, it was definitely him.
Zemo stood up from his chair as the men approached and sat the book in his hands to the table at his side. "Hello, soldat. I see you have brought your friends with you. I must admit it is nice to have visitors. Incarceration is far less stimulating than one would have you believe."
"We didn't come for a visit," Bucky said tersely.
Zemo chuckled and walked over to his book shelf to browse his selection. "Yet, here you are. It seems you are always stuck doing exactly what you don't want to, even with Hydra's words purged from your mind."
Zemo held up a book eerily similar to his Winter Soldier journal and Bucky's jaw tensed. "One of our people was taken by Hydra."
"Hm," Zemo thought, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "Which is it? Clint Barton? Bruce Banner? Or perhaps Wanda Maximoff? Why would I help retrieve one of those responsible for my families' death?"
"He isn't one of us," Steve said forcefully. "He's only seventeen. He was nowhere near Sokovia when Ultron was there."
"Eighteen," Natasha said, quietly.
Steve turned to look at her in confusion.
"His birthday was two days ago," she explained.
Steve's stomach dropped and he looked to Tony, but he was staring pinch-faced at the floor.
Peter's birthday... How did Steve forget? He had made so many plans. He had been working on a painting of Peter's family for weeks using some ID photos he'd found in the Oscorp files. He asked around about all of Peter's favorite foods with plans to have a buffet of everything he could possibly want and Steve was going to make Peter's cake himself. They were going to camp out on the roof and watch a movie projected on the dome. What should have been an amazing day, Peter was spending with Hydra.
"A new avenger, then?" Zemo asked darkly, sticking the book in his jacket pocket. "I was unaware you were recruiting. From the look on the good Captains face, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess he was Team Cap?"
Steve stepped forward with fire in his eyes, but Bucky's hand slammed against his chest with a sharp shake of his head. Steve forced himself to stand down, despite everything in his body telling him not to. He knew Bucky was only trying to get what they needed, but Steve really wanted to punch something and Zemo was looking more and more like an apt substitute for Hydra.
"I resent that," Tony said, popping something into his mouth as he stepped forward. "I actually recruited him during that stunt you pulled to break up the team."
Sam elbowed Tony in the ribs to shut him up, knocking the trail mix out of his hand and sending it spilling on the floor. "Ow. What, pigeon? I was just saying."
Bucky's head snapped around and he glared at them incredulously. "What the hell happened to not talking?"
Tony shrunk back again and Zemo chuckled. "This has been quite entertaining but I assume you have a request? Considering you made it abundantly clear you aren’t here to chat."
Bucky was still shaking his head and sighed. "We need to know anywhere Hydra could have taken Peter. We think that he's been experimented on by Hydra before. They had files on him dating back years."
Zemo tilted his head in interest. "What kind of experiments?"
Bucky looked to Steve. There was no way in hell he was telling Zemo Peter's insane origin story. Steve gave him a questioning look and Bucky rolled his eyes and nodded to Zemo. Steve shook his head to show he didn't understand and Bucky gave Steve a withering, exasperated sigh.
"The kid was bitten by a...radioactive spider," Bucky said, uncertainly.
Zemo's eyes shot up to look at Steve for confirmation then wagged his finger at them like they had just pulled a prank on him.
"No. Not possible. The Spider Soldier project was put to an end years ago. Long before your team of so called heroes destroyed my country-or else I would have dealt with them myself," Zemo said.
"Tell us what you know of it," Steve ordered.
"And what do I get out of it?" Zemo asked.
"We can have you moved out of maximum security," Natasha answered, staring intently at Bucky. "It may take a few days but we can do it. If your information is good enough to warrant it."
Zemo gave her a tight lipped smile. "I assume you know there is a reason I'm in here. Is this child worth so much to you that you offer escape on a silver platter?"
Bucky's finger twitched at his side in signal of approval, and Natasha gave him a small nod before finally meeting Zemo's eyes. "Yes."
"How do I know you will uphold your end?" Zemo asked.
"I give you my word," Steve assured him.
Zemo waved him off. "Your word means nothing to me. James?"
Bucky nodded stiffly. "We will make it happen. Now tell us."
Zemo tilted his head in a bow then sat in his chair, crossing his legs. "There isn't much to say. Hydra could no longer replicate the Super Soldier serum so they looked into gene splicing as a possible alternative. They made great progress but they were having difficulty with their stabilizing agent. One scientist finally figured it out, but when he realized what the agent was going to be used for, he destroyed all of his work. They tried to continue on without him, but when they couldn't, the project ended."
"Someone must've figured it out or else Peter wouldn't have his abilities," Bucky said.
Steve racked his brain, trying to make sense of what he was hearing, then a thought occurred to him. "What was the name of the scientist?"
Zemo hummed in thought. "Harper. No...Parker. Richard Parker."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Tony scoffed, running a hand through his hair.
Everyone turned to look at him and he sucked his teeth in frustration.
"Isn't it obvious? His parents must have injected him with the stabilizing agent," Tony said bitterly. "If they truly thought they were doing something good for the world, they wouldn't have just thrown their work away. No. That would be too easy. And the only way they could prevent it from being used was to make sure it was bonded. They used Peter as a walking safe until they could retrieve it again, painting a big red target on his back."
The idea lingered in the air, making them all fall silent.
If Hydra wanted the stabilizing agent from Peter, everything made sense. His parents being involved with Oscorp. Peter conveniently getting bitten by the spider when nobody else did. All the files they had on him from over the years. Why they were so intent on getting him back. They were wanting to make more Spider Soldiers.
"The pursuit of scientific advancement can oftentimes be grounded in the worst kind of selfishness," Zemo mused, breaking the silence. "Three examples of which are standing in this room now. The kid's parents may have been guilty, but it will be Peter who pays the price."
“That’s enough,” Steve barked. He really wanted to punch that guy.
"So Hydra killed them, right?" Sam asked, trying to redirect the conversation before Zemo could instigate a fight.
Zemo hummed in assent. "The Parkers took a plane out of the country, but Hydra made sure it crashed before it even left New York. Power surge, the reports said."
"We are going to need a list of all places they could be keeping him," Sam said.
"I can do even better," Zemo said, sliding the book in from his pocket into the glass collection box where he received his meals. "That's a copy of everything I have on Hydra. Locations, projects, names of people affiliated with them.”
Zemo turned to Bucky with a wry look. “I’m sure you will do what needs to be done with the information.”
Bucky looked like he was going to be sick, so Steve grabbed it and flipped through it before nodding. "Give us three days. We will arrange the transfer."
Zemo chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
Everyone piled out and as soon as they made it to the Quinjet, Bucky pulled out his phone and made a call.
"The Dora Milaje?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah," Bucky said. "They are going to either be really pissed or ecstatic. Depends on how busy their schedule is."
The people of Wakanda had always felt it was their right to detain Zemo because of his assassination of King T'Chaka, but the US government didn't agree. Bucky could only hope that they would be pleased they were getting their chance to claim him.
"They will need to surround the prison they are going to get to him. Let's just hope they can get here before they move him," Natasha said.
"Hey," Bucky said into the phone, dragging out the word. He grimaced and walked to the front of the of the quinjet.
"I'll go set coordinates," Natasha said. "Sam?"
Sam followed her out and Steve sat in his chair to start scanning the pages of the book. There was a lot of information, which was encouraging, but it wasn't like there was an index. It could take him days to make up a list of locations and they didn't have that kind of time.
Tony hung his jacket over his seat, but moved to sit beside Steve, looking over his shoulder. "Where to first?"
Steve bit his bottom lip stubbornly. "No idea."
Tony sighed but nudged Steve's shoulder with his own. "We are going to find him."
Steve forced a small smile. "I know. It's not the if I'm stuck on, it's the when."
"Yeah," Tony said absentmindedly, looking out the window as they lifted off. That was what had Tony worried, too. That and what all could happen between now and then.
Tony took a deep breath for courage and slapped his hands down on his knees. "So, I’ve been meaning to tell you-I kind of have something that may keep Hydra off of our backs for a while, and the people of New York out of danger. The problem is, I'm not sure you're going to like it."
Steve looked up at Tony and tilted his head. "What is it?"
Tony smiled sheepishly. "How about while you're trying to find something in the book, we change the coordinates and I show you instead?"