Chapter Text
Peter woke with a start. Ever since homecoming, he never did seem to be able to wake up slowly, and now was no exception. His spider-sense drove a migraine through his skull. It hit him all at once that the only clothes he had on were his boxers. His wrists, ankles, and neck were secured to a metal table with some kind of vibranium-cuffs. He tried giving them a tug, but there's only so much super strength could do.
Around the room were several medical instruments, large lights, and sanitizing scrubs. It looked like an old operating theater, only dirtier. Peter started panicking. He couldn't remember how he got here, couldn't remember his last mission. He didn't even know who had him, just that it was bad news.
Somewhere he couldn't see, a door slammed open. Several pairs of footsteps came into the room, and then into view. Standing above Peter were two "surgeons", in medical gowns with the HYDRA insignia printed on them. Carrying in equipments and vials and tubes were several "nurses", in HYDRA scrubs. They looked so ridiculous he would've laughed if he could get past the terror choking him.
"Test 40092, August 26th, 2017. Subject was extracted without any damage. Appears to be male, adolescent, physically fit. Experiments will be conducted in order according to the discovery plan, then replicated." The various staff around him starting pulling on gloves, squinting at him lying there on the table.
Peter was definitely hyperventilating, fear clawing up his throat with a vice grip on his lungs.
"Wuh- what? Hey I-I please what is this? Experiments? What're you doing?" He begged, but none of the doctors would even look at his face. They were studying him like an animal.
"C'mon, this is a mistake, this-this is a misunderstanding, please-" Peter only got so far until a gag was shoved in his mouth. Despite it he kept trying to talk to them, make them realize he was a person, even though all that came out were muffled groans.
The doctors and nurses around him started poking into him. Inserting tubes, wires, patches alike. One of them drew some blood, then another did as well. Terror swirled in his gut, coiling around his stomach and making him nauseated.
"We will now commence testing."
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Peter had no idea how long they worked on him. He wanted to say days, but realistically he knew it couldn't have been more than a few hours. That being said, he didn't think he'd ever felt this much pain before.
They'd started by cutting into different parts of him, harvesting "muscle samples". He'd never forget what it felt like to see a literal part of his body be carried off in a plastic bag. The smell of his blood, thick and hot, lingered in his nose for hours afterwards. At some point, when they were taking something from his leg it hurt so bad he spasmed with the full force of his strength. The cuff bent a little, and for just a second Peter thought there was hope. But a second later someone came in the room and "double enforced" them, which really just meant installing a second set of cuffs that were an inch thicker.
His throat ached from all the screams he couldn't get out. His lips were dry and cracking, and around the cuffs the skin was bleeding where he struggled during the procedures. Someone had been sent in to mop the room when they'd finished, and he could see his blood being wrung out of the mop in the corner of the room. Peter would've given anything to be able to try and talk to the man, but he was exhausted and the adrenaline had drained out of his system an hour ago. And so he fell asleep, in pain and alone.
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Three sessions later, Peter had a sinking feeling that no one was looking for him. Either Tony didn't know he was missing or he didn't care. Ned and MJ would never know what happened to him. He couldn't even begin to think about May. When everything hurt so bad, the thought of her hugging him and the feeling of home would be just enough to send him over the edge. So he had to accept it. It was days since he would've last seen anyone and no one was coming for him. Peter was alone in this one.
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He found his opportunity soon enough. The janitor was wearing headphones, mopping up after the most recent session, pushing blood towards the bucket when his mop handle fell onto the table. Not noticing it hit a button, he kept cleaning unaware of Peter slowly sitting up and rubbing his wrists.
Peter was on him in seconds. All sense of holding-back went out the window after the second session, and all that was left in him was a red hot need for freedom. He slammed the janitors head against the table. It was anyones guess whether the guy was unconscious or dead, but Peter couldn't be bothered to stop and check in his current state. He stole the guys jumpsuit and mop, and shakily made his way to the door.
Outside it was a long, white hallway. Leaning heavily on the mop for support, Peter limped through the halls looking for any sign of daylight or fresh air. Eventually a scientist turned down the hall, looking at Peter for a brief second. Peter could feel his heart beat speed up, ratcheting to inhuman speeds. His hands shook and he knew there was blood about to seep through the jumpsuit and onto the floor.
The scientist stopped for a second, opened his mouth, and then continued walking. Peter had never felt more relieved as he quickened his pace down the hall.
Finally, after several heart-pounding minutes, he saw a window in a room. He ducked into the room, peering up and out of the window. It was daytime outside. Cloudy. A helicopter was flying somewhere overhead. Tears he didn't know he still had sprung to his eyes as he realized he was almost out. He scrambled up the wall, winding up his fist and punching the window. He got a breath of fresh air, reached out onto the grass on the ground, and then bars came slamming down across the pane and crushed his forearm. The lights in the room cut out and were replaced by red emergency lighting and a siren sounded.
Peter cradled his arm to his chest and wildly looked around the room. Soldiers came pouring like ants, pointing tasers at him. He sobbed once and crumpled in on himself before the first taser hit and everything went black.
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After the escape attempt, Peter lost track of time. Sessions, breaks, clean-ups blurred together. One day they just injected him with various poisons to see if he'd react. Despite his blood boiling, the sensation of burning in his sinuses, Peter didn't move a muscle. Everything mixed together into a constant all-consuming ache. They had to finish their testing soon, had to dispose of him. He knew it was a matter of time, and started looking forward to it. He wrote imaginary goodbyes to everyone in his head. He knew Tony and May would blame themselves, and he wished he could just tell them not to worry.
Peter waited and waited for them to be done, until one day there was an interruption. They were half-way through testing his healing factor with respect to burns when the red lights came back. The entire staff paused, and then whipped around as the door busted wide open.
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Bucky wasn't against all this do-gooder stuff. Since their team had started going on their own missions, Bucky could understand why Steve liked it so much. For the first time in what must have been 70 years, he felt like one of the good guys. He knew it when he saw the faces of people he rescued from fires and from the fear on the face of HYDRA agents when he saw them.
But this particular mission struck him personally. Steve had gotten word that there was a secret HYDRA base hidden somewhere off the coast of Maine. After scannning the area hundreds of times they found a small island, almost undetectable to any kind of radar equipment. He saw the building on the island. An abandoned hospital. Bucky knew exactly what kind of work HYDRA liked to get done in abandoned hospitals, and so did Steve.
Before they left Steve walked up to him one last time.
"You sure you're up for this? No one would judge you if you wanted to sit this one out." Steve's tone was genuine, as it always was. Bucky could see the concern in his eyes, but he also knew that he had to face what would be in that building, and Steve needed all the back-up he could get.
"I'm okay. I'm sure I've seen worse than what's past those walls." Bucky patted Steve's arm and moved away, looking out the window of the helicopter as it drew closer to the island. He had a growing sense of dread. Nothing good could be in there.
Getting through the HYDRA agents was easy, fighting was never Bucky's weakness. The hard part was opening the cells up and seeing the prisoners flinch into the corners at the sight of another person. Slowly he and Nat would coax them out, getting them blankets and water and clothes before getting situated on the chopper. Gradually they freed everyone in the cells except for one last wing in the bottom of the basement. It had been a long day of emotional work and Bucky was tired of seeing people in pain, imprisoned.
He busted onto the basement floor, triggering the alarm system immediately. Almost every room down here was empty, and he was doing one last check. At the end of the hall was one room with double doors that looked pretty serious, and he sauntered down the hall to peak inside.
Bucky shoved open the doors and paused in shock. There were roughly 7 or 8 HYDRA personnel, the room smelled like burnt skin, and there was a teenage boy strapped to the table that looked all but catatonic. He called Nat down to take care of the agents as they all ran out of the room like weasels, and he ran over to the kids side. Jesus, he thought, there's no way he's over 16.
The kid definitely looked worse for wear. Tubes stuck out of him in various places, incisions poorly stitched up and deep bags under his eyes. The kid's eyes lazily met his, and for a second Bucky saw some hope there, though it was quickly replaced with new found fear.
The poor guy started thrashing around on the table, whimpering behind whatever the hell it was in his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut around tears. Bucky grabbed what was in his mouth and yanked it out harshly. It was probably too harsh but he was appalled by what was around him and couldn't find the patience to be delicate.
"Pl-please. Please. Ju-just let me call him. I'm so-sorry. Just let me call him just once" the kid cried. His eyes peaked open and Bucky was rooted to the spot in shock.
"Call. Who?"
"M-mr. St-stark. Please. I j-just need to s-say goodbye. I p-promise. Just one call, please"
Bucky didn't even know what to say. He just stared at the kid. At the different scars, incisions, raw wounds. Blood was dripping off the table onto the floor. Bucky's mouth gaped open, what would Steve say here? What would Steve do?
"Steve, can you get down here for this?" Bucky asked through the comms as the kid kept begging to talk to Stark. He vaguely heard Steve confirm he was on his way before refocusing on the teenager laying flat on the table. In no way was Bucky equipped to handle this situation. But he had to admit there was something familiar about the kids voice. Something really familiar.
"I'm so-sorry. I am. Please. I j-just want to say bye. Then I'm done I-I promise" the kid kept going. and then it hit Bucky like a train.
"Spider-man?!"
As soon as he said it the kid broke down completely. It sounded like he was trying to apologize, but Bucky couldn't be completely sure. He took a step back from the kid, hoping that would help him realize he wasn't in danger, but then he just started crying harder and asking Bucky not to leave. Then Steve stepped into the room and it all went to shit.
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"I-I'm sorry please please please I'm sorry I'm sorry please" the kid had been saying that for 20 minutes now. No one could figure out how to open the cuffs. They'd tried prying at them, hitting them, cutting them, but nothing worked. Nat was carding her fingers through the kids hair but it seemed to just set him on edge more.
Finally, Wanda showed up. She took one look at the shaking boy and extended her powers. A red glow hovered around his head, and he slowly looked dazedly at the people around him.
"Once-once I call Tony you can do anything. But I just want to say bye first. Then you can kill me too, I won't even fight I promise" He said dreamily. Bucky looked to Steve. Steve looked at Bucky. Steve sat up from where he was trying to pull off the cuffs and gently put a hand on an unmarked spot of Peter's shoulder.
"Hey son, do you know who we are?"
Peter looked up at him and smiled a little.
"You're Captain America. We sent your friends to super jail and now you want to kill me." Nat's brow furrowed. Wanda's eyes widened. Steve realized there was an enormous misunderstanding laying there.
"Buddy we aren't going to hurt you. We're here to help. " Peter shook his head. Wanda's magic still glowed around his temples and he was calm.
"Nice try but I'm a human lie detector. A spider human lie detector. A spider lie-tector."
Bucky grunted, took out his phone, and handed it to Steve.
"Call him. He should know."
Steve sighed once and looked down at the phone. He lifted his hand off the teenage vigilante and dialed Tony. It only rung once before he picked up.
"Is this an emergency? I got bigger fish to fry and-"
"Tony. We found someone on a HYDRA base that wants to talk to you. We think he may be Spider-boy"
A quiet "spider-man" sounded from the table.
Steve bent down and pressed the phone to Peter's ear.
"...Peter?" Tony asked. His voice was thin, he was stretched too thin from two weeks trying to find Peter. Peter had gone missing after school, and while Ned's account implied it was the secret service Tony knew better. Tony had been working day and night trying to track him down. They'd busted at least 12 different facilities in the time Peter was gone, but not a single of them had contained a certain arachnid vigilante.
"M-Mr. Stark?" Peter's voice was thick with emotion. He could barely talk, the relief seizing his throat.
"I-I just wanted to say it's ok. It's not your fault. Could you tell May that I-that I love her? And Ned and MJ. And I love you too. I'm-I'm so sorry. Um. I want you to know it'll probably be painless. I-I guess I'll see you all later. Bye" Peter shut his eyes against the tears, Wanda's magic supressing all the panic it could. Steve lifted the phone up to his ear again.
"He seems to think we're going to cause him harm. He's uh. He's not looking too good Stark."
Steve could hear a choked noise on the other end of the line. He gave Stark a minute to compose himself, and then said,
"We can't figure out how to get him loose. They've got him under some pretty strong restraints here, nothing I can understand."
"Where are you right now?" Tony sounded ragged. Steve gave him the coordinates, told the rest of the team to get out before Stark got there. Within minutes the chopper left, leaving Peter and Steve alone in the room. Without Wanda's powers, terror was seeping back into the kid.
"What-what are you gonna do with me?" He was trying to sound tough, god bless him, but Steve could hear the tremor underneath. He could see the way the kid was trying to kid his bottom lip from shaking, whether it be from the cold in the room or fear.
"Well, Tony's on his way. We're going to get you out of here, then some medical help, and finally we're going to get you home with your family." From the way the kid looked sideways at him, Steve could tell he didn't trust him. Instead of replying, the kid set his jaw and stared resolutely at the ceiling. Dried blood was caked onto Steve's skin from where he'd touched the boy. Only a few minutes passed before Tony ran through the doors and looked at Peter.
Tony was a wreck, to put it generously. His hair was messy, he was unshaved, his clothes didn't match at all. He hardly looked like himself. But when he saw Peter laying on the table and breathing, he took a deep breath and schooled his features into something semi-normal.
"Hey kid, you know you missed movie night?"