Inheritance of ash

day three - part one

Vicky swatted his arm, then turned back to Peter and tried to help herself out with a hopeful, unhelpful, "I wore a helmet."

Peter did not look reassured. His mind was racing with terrible results that could've ver easily been reality because Vicky had rode a bike with the second most reckless guy in the tower.

Vicky leaned over toward Pietro, whispering just low enough for Peter not to catch: "Wait until he finds out it was in the middle of the night."

Pietro smirked like the devil himself.

Kate clapped her hands together. "Focus, people."

Peter dragged his eyes back to her, still scandalized. "Focus? I'm not coming. Nuh uh. Nope. I'd rather fight HYDRA again than ride a motorcycle. No—" he paused, hands flailing—"I'd rather join HYDRA."

Wanda's voice cut sharp. "Not funny."

Peter winced, guilt flashing across his face.
"Wasn't meant to be."

Kate waved him off. "Fine, then don't come. That just means you're distraction."

"What?"

Wanda picked up smoothly. "While we're gone—probably a few hours—you make sure nobody notices. Do something dramatic. Fake an injury. Or an alien invasion. Or like—" her tone faltered slightly—"say that Loki's back. You saw him on the streets or whatever

Vicky flinched so subtly no one saw.

Peter, though, looked horrified. "You want me to—what?!"

"Distract," Kate said simply, like she was assigning chores.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, frazzled. "This is insane. This is risky. Possibly dangerous. And a massive violation of Bucky's privacy." His eyes locked on Vicky, sharp, almost pleading. "Don't do this. Please don't do this."

For a heartbeat, it almost worked.

But Vicky had already convinced herself hours ago, sometime between pencil strokes and sleepless dawn, that she would do anything—anything—if it meant pulling Bucky back from whatever cliff he was standing on.

She didn't flinch under Peter's gaze.

She told herself it was to help Bucky. To help Steve and Sam. To maybe fix something in the tower that felt so broken.

Peter saw her decision in her eyes before she said a word. His shoulders sagged, his jaw tight. He knew.

And he hated it.

⸻

Kate, Wanda, and Pietro had already slipped down the hallway, whispering and shoving each other like the least stealthy group of spies in existence. Vicky adjusted her jacket, ready to follow after them, when Peter's hand caught her arm.

"Vicky, wait."

She froze, half-annoyed, half-expecting him to crack a joke, but the look in his eyes wasn't teasing. It was serious. Almost desperate.

"Don't go," he said, voice low but firm. "It's not a good idea."

Vicky raised her brows, already bracing herself for the argument.

"You don't know what's in those files," Peter continued. "What if it's... I don't know, worse than you think? What if it's detailed torture or... things you can't unsee?" His hands gestured wildly, like words weren't enough to capture how awful it could be.

Vicky's jaw tightened. "I know what I can handle." Her voice wasn't sharp, but it was steady. Final.

Peter shook his head, frustration bubbling up. "No, you don't. You haven't even tried to talk to Bucky yet, and you think you can handle this?"