Family Secrets

Breaking

Peter?

The teen, who had been curled up in the corner of his cell, opened his eyes. It felt like he opened them, at least.

Just a trick, he thought. I'm dreaming.

Suddenly, there was a sound, like someone imitating a rooster. Peter let out a small puff of air, he was too tired to laugh, but the noise made him think of this one-

Wake the FUCK up!

Vine! Peter sat up. It wasn't a dream, this was real. Someone had shown Wanda Vines.

Wanda? His mind was still waking up, still trying to process this. How do you know vines? Am I dreaming still?

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"He thinks he's dreaming," Wanda said to the group. "The joke made him respond, but he still thinks it could be a dream or a trick."

"Try the senses thing, Peter needs to process what's around him," Tony said, excitedly. His son, his baby boy was okay. Well, okay enough to think.

Peter, Wanda thought. Use your hands and your sense of smell. What's around you?

Peter took a moment to respond. There's where I am sleeping. It's got a little rug sort of thing, but it's scratchy. There's a door where the food comes in, and I can smell the oatmeal from earlier. I dumped it out.

Wanda furrowed her brow. Why wasn't he eating? Why did you dump it out?

I get fed twice a day, I think, but it was laced with something that made me really weak, so I am trying to get my strength back.

"He's at least keeping track of time, he said he gets fed twice a day," Wanda told the group. "But he's not eating anymore because the food makes him weak."

Bucky ran a hand over his chin, which had started to stubble more than usual. "Is he sure he's being fed that much? If he was, I think the food would be weakening his powers, but not his body."

How many days have you been there, Peter? Wanda asked.

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Peter thought for a second. How many days had he been there? Lets see... meals twice a day, 14 meals since he had come, 6 since he stopped eating them... He'd been here a whole week.

A week. 7 days, he told his sister. There was a long pause, so long that Peter thought for a moment that he might have lost connection with her somehow.

Peter, sweet heart, you've been gone for 17 days now.

Peter's whole body seemed to break at that point. 17 days. It was like the walls around him were crumbling. He was suddenly aware of how badly he missed his family. His parents. His friends. MJ. For the first time since he had been thrown in this cell, he cried for himself and not for the pain.

W-Wanda? His thoughts were shaky, alerting his aunt to how he was feeling. It was hard for her to sift through what he was thinking clearly, a lot of what she was getting were fragments about the family and the situation. Wanda, please come get me.

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"He's begging me that we come get him."

Tony and Pepper were both crying. Natasha had left the room, unsteady on her feet. This was hardest on them.

"Ask where he is," Steve said bluntly, getting ready to commit whatever came out of Wanda's mouth next to memory.

Wanda was silent for nearly 4 minutes. "He doesn't know," she said solemnly. "All he knows is that he's in a basement somewhere, he says it has those little peek-a-boo windows to see the grass outside, but the ones in the basement he's in are painted black."

"It's the best we've got, and I'll bet its her own basement he's in."

The team nodded, knowing they would be going into this very, very blind. If it turned out that Peter wasn't in Liz's own basement, and they stormed the place, she would have every reason to simply kill Peter, or move him to an even more hidden spot.

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Peter waited for his sister to respond. He didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to be cold anymore. He had tried to get his strength back, but it wasn't enough. He wanted his family.

There were no words from his sister, no more thoughts. He tried to wait patiently, but his breathing quickened. His hands got clammy, his head began to pound. Despite it only being a minute or so, Peter felt like he'd been waiting hours.

They aren't coming, they aren't going to save me. Why would they? It'll only put them in danger, this is all my fault.

The teen's mind raced with thoughts of how he had messed up, how he was to blame for this situation. But he didn't have time to dwell on it.

The door of the cell opened for the first time in days. Liz stood in the light.

"You haven't been eating. We're going to fix that." She dragged Peter out of the cell, either oblivious to the anxiety attack he was having, or not caring.

Peter let her set up and get to work. He screamed when she began her torture. Always starting with the knife and the punches. Peter could feel his ribs beginning to break. He could feel the sticky heat of blood. He could feel the sting of his lungs as he was forced to swallow the foul food or aspirate on it.

He couldn't think straight anymore, so he never heard Wanda's promise.

We're coming.