"What - what should I do?" Peter stammered in horror as he watched Richard's life fade. He knew he shouldn't feel sorry - after all, this was the man who had worked with his mother and sister and was there when he was imprisoned in laboratories. But he felt sorry. He didn't know what had led Richard to work with them — whether it was simply because he loved them — but he was sacrificing himself for him today. He caught a deadly bullet instead of him. Some piece of goodness and humanity remained in him and now it has surfaced.
Richard coughed and inadvertently squeezed the wound with his hand, even though he knew it was in vain. He knew she had hit perfectly, and that he had only a moment of his life left. The important thing for him was that he prevented her from killing her brother. Maybe his death won't be useless. Maybe she realizes how important the family is. All she had left was Peter.
"It's okay," Richard whispered. "It was just... a matter of time... before it would happen. I was... ready for it," he replied, smiling. His shaking hand was covered in blood, which stained not only his body but also the grass beneath him and Peter's suit. And in spite of everything the boy had suffered for them, he sat there with him, holding him and being the only one who remained with him in the last moments of his life. "She... shows people only... different... parts of herself... and never let anyone... see the whole... picture," he breathed, looking into his face. "But I... I saw the whole picture. Even though she thought... I didn't. I... saw her. Really. As she is. I knew her. And I still believe... that there was... at least a shard... of that little girl left in her. A little girl who... loved the world. You. I want to believe that somewhere... deep inside... it's good in her. You have to... save her. Please," he told him urgently, tears welling up in his eyes and running down his cheeks. Peter held him and listened urgently to his every word.
Suddenly Richard shuddered a little and fished in his jacket pocket with his other hand. "I want to give you something... One last reminder of... who she was. Take... take it," he told him, shakingly handing him a crumpled, slightly bloodied photograph. A photo of two small, cheerful children. When Peter saw it, his breath caught in his throat. He was on it. With his sister. Suddenly he felt Richard grab his jacket and squeezed it quite hard, pulling him closer. "Save her, Peter. Save her... from herself. From Mary. Please. Save her," he sobbed. Peter could only nod. Richard smiled gratefully at him, closed his eyes, and relaxed. The hand, tightening the boy's jacket, loosened its grip and landed helplessly on the man's chest. Peter stared at his face, trying to understand what had just happened. How many more people will have to die? He didn't want this. There was death all around him. And now, at this moment, she was sitting with him, kneeling beside Richard's dead body.
He inadvertently remembered kneeling like this at the dead body of his biological mother. And now he held Richard in his arms, who loved Mary and Teresa. And he had a terrible thought - will there be another who he will see dying, his sister? Or maybe his family? He couldn't allow that.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to Richard, even though he knew he couldn't hear him. Slowly and carefully, he laid his body on the grass and stood up. He himself was surprised that he would stay on his feet at all. The events of the last few minutes had exhausted him, trapping him again in spirals of thoughts that made his head spin. His legs were shaking and he could feel his breathing starting. He had to turn away from the dead body, took a deep breath, took a long breath, and tried to calm himself. He wore a red bloodstain on his white shirt, his hands covered in blood. At that moment, however, he ran them through his hair and tugged at them. Then he cried in despair.
•••
"Did you really take weapons with you to the wedding?" Bucky asked in surprise as he and Natasha stepped out as discreetly as possible and headed quickly into the woods. Natasha was pretty sure Peter and the kidnapper in question would be there because their traces were still faintly visible, only two, of course, if more people came for him, it would be more conspicuous, but that didn't mean there were no reinforcements around.
"Yes, I took my weapons, and it's a good thing I did," Natasha growled. "If you've been living with Tony for a while now, you'll understand that it's better not to underestimate this. He has a lot of enemies, and you never know when one of them goes crazy."
"How many do you think are waiting for us there?" Barnes muttered, scanning his surroundings intently and listening to the sounds around him. But nothing came to his ears except the rustle of the forest. The two thought the same idea - hopefully they hadn't taken Peter away, somewhere far away.
"I have no idea, but I hope we can handle them in two," she said softly, handing him one of her pistols. "Don't forget to aim accurately."
"Then don't get yourself in the way," he told her, loading his pistol so he'd be ready to fire immediately if they saw any sudden movement.
From then on, the two of them were silent, creeping through the woods and watching the area carefully. Natasha was a little wrinkled, as they still hadn't encountered anyone. They heard no call, no shouting. Did they know about them, hid so they could attack at the right time and first? She didn't like it. She looked back to see if she could see anyone when Bucky stopped. "Nat," he said, pointing in front of him. She followed his gaze and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Peter there. Alone. A man was lying on the ground.
"Peter," she breathed and quickly walked over to him. When he heard the redhead, he turned relievedly and ran to meet her. Then he jumped into her arms and she hugged him tightly. "God, are you okay? Is anyone else here?"
"I don't think so, at least not anymore," he replied quietly. She felt how he was shaking.
"Sit down, honey, and breathe," she whispered, helping him sit on the grass. He nodded gratefully. She noticed his bloodied clothes and red hands. Bucky, meanwhile, inspected the man's body and told them he was dead. "So it was him?"
"Not quite," Peter corrected, shaking his head. "He... took the place of me."
"And where is the assailant?" she asked him, looking around the trees again.
"She ran away," he muttered.
"Maybe it's best to go back to the wedding," Bucky suggested, walking over to them. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezed it. "In a moment, someone might notice we're gone. Better to get out of here than she comes back. Can you handle it?" he turned to Peter and took his hand to help him up.
"What are we going to do with him?" Peter said instead of answering.
"Well, I really don't want to pull him," Natasha grinned. "We'll come back for him later. Bucky's right, it'll be best if we go. And we have to figure out how to smuggle you indiscreetly so you can change."
"Please don't tell mom and dad?" he asked, glancing at them.
"Someone called Rhodey and gave him an echo," Nat admitted. "Tony didn't miss it, of course, but I don't think Pepper knows anything yet."
"Then don't tell her," he asked.
"You know we will have to. This is not a closed matter," Bucky said reluctantly.
"I know, I just... not today. Please. It's their wedding. And I don't want... I don't want to ruin them that day. If she knew something had happened... she wouldn't enjoy it anymore."
Natasha nodded. "Perhaps Tony didn't tell her. But we have to tell him when he knows something."
Peter agreed, there was nothing left. "I'm glad you came," he admitted to them. The fact that he was here alone, and only with the body of a dead man, was not at his best. One had such terrible thoughts at such a moment. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to wait, he had no idea if Teresa would come back or not. Why didn't she come back? Did Richard's words impress her? Did he plant a seed of doubt in her? Did she change her mind?
If he didn't fall asleep today, he had a long night ahead of him. His head was full of thoughts and he was full of worries about what awaited them in the days to come.
"We'll always come for you, honey," Nat assured him.