Work Text:
26whump2 - stranded - MCU - bear trap/lost in the woods/"it's too dangerous to go alone"
Cold air bit into his skin, whipping past with some level of ferocity, as though the air itself hater him, but the boy barely noticed it. Any pain the cold air could cause him was nothing compared to what he had just escaped.
Stumbling forwards, pushing himself off the trees he passed, he catalogued his injuries. His back was raw and agonising, and every now and then he could feel another trickle of blood rolling down it, nothing so bad he had to worry about blood loss, but the wounds that had been whipped into him made every slight movement of his torso scream and burn with agony. Of his fingers, seven were broken, each punishments for things the boy couldn't remember. His left arm still burned, though all he could see on it was the mottled bruising of badly placed needles from whatever they had injected him with. His legs ached from the sudden use after having not stood on them for... he had no clue how long, he couldn’t remember when they took him – he knew he hadn't always been there, knew faintly he had a name and maybe even people he cared about, but he didn't remember any of that, and time had blurred impossibly in there. It could have been mere days, or it could have been weeks, he had no clue.
He shook his head, clearing the incoming panic as best he could and stumbling forwards with even more urgency. He needed to get out of here, needed to find somewhere out of the cold, somewhere he could deal with his injuries, somewhere with food. His stomach churned at that last thought, feeling as though it were gnawing on itself with the way it ached, begging for food. Somewhere, lost in the depths of his mind, he remembered something about being able to heal faster than others, and right alongside that piece of information was the other that reminded him he also needed to eat more. Considering his wounds hadn't been healing for some time, he had to assume those two details worked hand in hand. He was starving, so he couldn’t heal. He needed to eat. He kept moving forwards. If he didn't stop moving forwards, he would have to find someone eventually. Right?
That train of thought snapped to a sudden end as all his instincts wired up to scream at him, and half a second later, his foot landed down on the ground and something snapped closed, agony ripping through him out of nowhere, snapping into his leg hard and sharp and sudden. Unable to help it, he screamed, his body falling, which only caused the angle to change slightly and ripped up further. In his panic he tried to shove the thing off him, but it didn't budge, didn't move so much as an inch.
He screamed, clawing desperately at the thing, ripping at it, at the skin around it, but nothing changed. his leg was covered in more blood than he had ever seen – and he had seen a lot, his own far too often – it was pulsing and spurting, likely having cut through an artery along with everything else. His bone was shattered, he could see some of the pieces of it sticking out at odd angles. He screamed again, clawing at what he now realised was a bear trap. He was stuck. He was stuck and in more pain than he could possibly comprehend, screaming and sobbing and pleading with them to make it stop make it stop make it stop – he hadn't done anything! Please, he was sorry please just make it STOP!
Over his screams, he heard footsteps running towards him, and suddenly he remembered. He had escaped. He had escaped, and now they were coming for him because they had heard him. No. No. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t. Not after escaping. They would hurt him, punish him until he couldn’t comprehend the idea of escape, and he would be trapped there forever. No. NO!
He gripped onto the nearest tree, clawing deep into it, not noticing the needles of bark catching and digging deep under his nails, he didn't care, he just needed to pull himself up. When he was finally standing, all his weight on his uninjured leg, he took a deep breath, and lunged forwards, screeching at the pain as his weight landed on the leg. No. No, he had to be quiet. He had to be quiet and he had to get away. He shoved his forearm into his mouth, biting deep enough to draw blood, but not caring. It would work for now, he stumbled another step forwards, biting deeper into his arm at the screaming pain, but managing it nonetheless, driven purely by panic and the need to escape. Another step and – the chain he hadn't noticed attached to the trap snapped tight and he fell, crumpling to the ground.
He was stuck. He was going to be found. They were going to take him back. After all the running, the stumbling, the desperate fleeing. It was all for nothing. He let out a harsh sob. He had been going for days, not stopping, walking through the nights, just moving constantly, trying to get free, and it was all for nothing. They were going to find him.
"Oh, shit. SHIT!" A voice cut through his panic, only serving to make him scrabble in the dirt, desperate to escape the figure staring down at him. Only one, which seemed odd, but perhaps it was one of the successful ones. One that they said he would join eventually. The assets. The super soldiers. "Kid, hey, hey, you're okay, I'm not going to hurt you."
Every muscle in his body prepared to flee, only to be reminded just how trapped he was. What could he do? He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, couldn’t escape. He let out a high whine as he slumped forwards, his muscles loosening as he realised this fight was already lost.
"Fuck, I thought I'd gotten rid of all these traps, Laura is gonna kill me," The voice muttered under his breath, kneeling down next to him, "Shh, hey kid, I'm gonna get you out of this, look at me, you're gonna be okay."
He didn't want to, but he knew better than to disobey. He tilted his face up from where it had been buried in the dirt, and met the man's gaze. He seemed, concerned, as though he weren't happy with the situation, even though the boy was completely at his mercy. It made no sense. Then the man's face changed, jaw dropping, eyes widening, his whole face paling near white.
"Peter!?"
Who was – memories hit him, nothing fully, just... fragments. A woman wrapping her arms around him, calling him Peter. A boy high-fiving him, grinning happily and rambling to him – to Peter. A man, rolling his eyes and ruffling "Peter"'s hair. This man who was kneeling in front of him at this very moment, poking his head out of a vent and waving with a playful call of 'Hey Peter'.
Safe. Safe. He was safe.
"Help," Peter mumbled, though the words sounded mangled to his ears, coarse from disuse and slurred from pain. Tears streamed down his face and he pleaded with the man whose name he was sure he once knew but no longer did.
"I gotchu kid, I've got you. Fuck, you've been missing for more than a year, we thought, we thought you were dead," The man spoke as he worked, prying the trap open as he worked on mechanisms on the sides until finally, finally, he was free. He scrambled back quickly, pulling his legs up and away from the thing. "Careful! Careful, kid, we need to get you to a hospital, okay? I'm gonna pick you up, we'll go back to my house, I've got a car there, we can get to a hospital, and I'll have signal to call someone. You're gonna be okay, I've got you."
He tensed as the man's arms wrapped around him, waiting for the blow that didn't come. Instead, the man lifted him up gently, carrying him bridal style, and started walking quickly back in the direction he'd come.
Safe.
He was safe now.
With that thought lingering in his head, he let his head drop to the side, his body going limp as unconsciousness finally took over him. He was safe. He could breathe. He could rest. They would look after him now.