#LOOK AT THE IMMOBILITY AND THE MERCILESSNESS

[yourlittlettoy]

HI THE LAST STEP IS UNNECESSARY WHAT THE- 😵😵😵😵

First we oil thissss foot

Then we oil thattt foot

Lastly we brush your soles until you beg for mercy!

[bigbangbuffer]

lil' Cerby backstory drabble I might or might not expand on later, depending on how mean I'm feeling :0

content warnings: violence, blood, mild gore, implied child abuse

Cerberus searched their mentor’s face for signs of the terror and agony they had once felt: the bubbling tears that threatened to overflow; the silent, wide-eyed pleading; the screams and sobs clenched behind gritted teeth.  Instead, though, the bastard looked up at them and grinned.

“Fucking finally.  There’s my goddamn successor.”

“Shut up,” Cerberus growled. “All I want to hear are your pleas for fucking mercy.”  They twisted the knife embedded in their mentor’s shoulder.  The older assassin merely threw back his head—baring his throat in arrogant nonchalance, despite his immobility—and laughed.

“Oh, but Cerberus, my boy; don’t you see?  This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” he crooned. “Look at you.  You’re vicious.  Merciless.  Brutal.  Heartless.”  A deranged, fiendish flame blazed in those cold grey eyes.  He raised his arm up through the knife that pinned it. The blade and handle passed through his flesh like butter, but he did not so much as wince.  His blood-soaked hand came to rest on Cerberus’s scarred cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Sixteen: Confessions 

Chapter Seventeen: Kaleidoscope of Memories 

2017, Five weeks into rescue.

He fell backward. Wind whipped across his back before he crashed into something hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him leaving him gasping. Black spots spotted his vision but his hearing was clear. The ice was cracking underneath him. At first it was small fissures in the frozen water, but they joined with other cracks and fractured out to create bigger, more damaging weaknesses.

It was without a sound that the ice gave way and water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter.

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago, fell onto. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if his younger self would have appreciated it or if he would have been disappointed the bubbles disappeared into the air. It didn’t matter now. Red tendrils of blood floated around him infusing into the water. At least there would be something left of him here after he was gone.

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above.

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world.

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped.

-

2017, Four weeks into rescue.

The day was brisk. Cold, crisp air soaked into their lungs with every step they took. Peter, Rhodey, and Tony made their third circle around the lake. From their vantage point on the path they could see the snow racing against the wind on top of the ice. Peter shivered and broke his stare. He rubbed his hands together trying to get rid of the gritty texture rubbing against his skin but when that didn’t work he began to run laps around his two companions.

“You’re a strange kid, you know that?”

Tony smiled at him as he passed them in the front. It wasn’t exactly a solution. The grit remained under his gloves, against his legs no matter how much he ran. He tried not to glance back at the lake but a foreign compulsion forced him to with every circle.

“Must be nice to have all that stamina.” Rhodey commented.

“I have to expend this energy now or I won’t be able to sleep later.” Peter whined between jumping jacks. Why couldn’t he enjoy the day? He’d forgone eating breakfast even with a rumbling stomach. But the thought of eating anything, even Rhodey’s mouthwatering waffles, made him flinch.

“We could always have Rhodey read you a lullaby, He does voices and everything.”

Rhodey smacked Tony on the shoulder. Peter smiled despite the sour taste in the back of his mouth. His eyes wandered behind them to the lake almost iced over. He continued to stare until Tony put an arm around his shoulder. Did he know Peter was about to walk toward the water? Did he see the shadows in Peter’s eyes?

-

1992, two months in time.

“You didn’t.”


Peter’s spoon hovered in midair, stopped from making its trajectory into his mouth before it dropped, splashing his fruit loops onto the table and himself. A red fruit loop hit his shirt and rolled down onto the floor but Peter wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were on Tony who had just come from his room.

“Tony. Take it back. Go wash it out.”

“You don’t like it?” Tony took a pan drying from the dry rack and held it up to pretend to look at his reflection. The blond hair, oversized and disproportional to his real head of hair, looked like a funhouse reflection in the pan’s diameter.

“Good Mor…. Holy shit. I thought you were joking, Tones. Don’t change anything. Let me get my camera. Wait there.”

Rhodey ran back to his room. They could hear him swearing and rummaging around in his room for the camera. Peter burst out laughing at the one patch of brown hair surrounded by a sea of bleached blond.

“I will never let you live this down, Tony.”



Peter’s statement was punctuated by the sound of Rhodey’s camera going off.

-

2017, two days into kidnapping.

Peter paced back and forth in front of the curtained balcony. The two men, his supposed kidnappers, were sitting on the couch staring at him. But none of it made sense. They’d given him a room with clothes in the drawers. There was food stacked high on the coffee tables. The one named James Rhodes had insisted on filling a plate for Peter when he had said he wasn’t hungry.

They were nice, too nice. Peter hesitated at his outstretched hand. There were all kinds of junk food piled onto the plate. Rhodes stared back at him and pushed the plate further into his hand.

“Please, sit down.” Rhodes said gesturing to the vacant chair next to the couch they occupied. “And eat up. I’m sure they didn’t feed you well in that place.”

He was helpless under the warm gaze of Rhodes. Soon he was tucked away in the chair, rice crispy in hand with a blanket wrapped around him. This was the strangest kidnapping he’d ever heard of.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes.” He said quietly.

Tony snorted and Peter glared at him from under his bangs. The man was obnoxious.

“Did you hear that Mr. Rhodes? Our guest is so polite.”

The tips of his ears heated and he clenched the edges of the plate.

“What should I call him then?”

“How about Sir Rhodey of the Rhodes? Or maybe James Pop and the Iron Stooges? Or …”

“Tony, shut up.” Rhodey gave the man a pointed look to which he fell silent with a small smirk in Peter’s direction.

“Look Peter. We understand this isn’t the best of circumstances and all. You can call me James, if you want. Most people including stupid over here call me Rhodey.” Peter nodded. He could do that. Out of everything they’d asked of him this was the most reasonable. Peter knew what it was like not to have a name, not to be the person who had his name. In that place he wasn’t the Peter from his life before. He hated Peter and all his weaknesses and was glad he wasn’t anybody in that small cell.

He wondered if he could ever find someone he wanted to be again? A tiny voice in the back of his whispered this apartment, the blue room, might be such a place to find himself again.

-

1992, four months in time.

Peter woke up to silence. Darkness swallowed him and if not for the bed underneath him, Peter would have floated away into it. His chest heaved, breath stalled in his lungs despite the urgent need to exhale. The curtains swayed lightly from the vent blowing hot air into his room and a silver of the moon showed every time it moved forward. He swung his whole body away and toward the door when he caught sight of the lake.

He rubbed his hand on his forehead. Was it all a dream?

No. They were memories. He remembered going to sleep and then falling. Falling into darkness only to be dropped somewhere, everywhere. He lived through the memories, both past and present, at the same time but apart. How was that possible? When Rhodey offered him a plate of food when he was just in their care, he was also laughing with them at Tony’s new hair color. All the while some version of himself, maybe his true self, was at the bottom of the lake drifting against the sand.

He rubbed his hands together and felt the small particles of sand there. He knew if he turned on the lights he wouldn’t see anything. Peter laid back down and stared at the ceiling. His hands clenched together under the covers.

Thank you for reading!

Next Chapter Eighteen: Going Back

[tickletastic]

A Sticky Situation

Rating: G/SFW

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 798

Fandom: Marvel, IronDad

Ship: N/A

Summary: A webshooter misfire gets Peter into an awkward situation.

Notes: Tickletober Day Ten: Web.

When Peter called Tony from his room in the Avengers tower, he felt goofy, he felt really really silly and far too ashamed. He had fallen on his web shooter, and the shooter had rapidly fired all across the room, sparring no surface until it had been emptied, and Peter ended up on the floor, tangled in the webs that stuck to him like a tangle of cables.

When Tony arrived, he couldn’t help but laugh, the once light green room was now white with webs, the room looking like a laser trap from one of those old spy movies. 

“Oh kid, how’d you manage this one?”

“H-hi Mr. Stark,” Peter said, acknowledging Tony’s presence, “I was kind of practicing my flips, and I landed on the shooter, and well, I guess it had a mind of its own.”

“Tell me Kid, on a scale of 1-10, how much can you move right now?” Tony was unsure of where he should even start with the clean-up.

“Pretty much completely immoble.”

Tony figured that meant he should probably just dodge the webs by the entrance to the room and release peter before anything else. 

Tony knelt down, sitting on a spot on the floor that wasn’t much covered in web or books, sitting criss-cross like he had so many times seen the teen do. 

Tony placed his fingers on Peter’s collarbones, delicately untangling the webs from around his neck until he heard a quick huff of breath.

Peter twitched as far as the webs would allow him, biting hard on his lip. He had hoped that he would be able to keep it in without alerting Tony, but it proved unsuccessful as Tony’s delicate fingers took apart the knots of the web. 

Petter huffed, giggles escaping periodically, one at a time as he resisted every urge to struggle. 

“I’m sorry Pete, this is probably gonna tickle, but the less you move the faster it’ll go, kid,” Tony sympathized, untangling the final web between the teen’s right shoulder and right ear. 

When Tony’s fingers reached for the webs on Peter’s ribs, his giggles were much more frequent, as he involuntarily squirmed before stopping himself. “Thihihis ihis thehe wohohorst!”

Tony snickered, his fingers moving faster in hopes that he could put the kid out of his misery, instead, he received a snort as Peter through his head back, lightly hitting the cold hardwood beneath him. The teen shook as much as he could within the confines of the webs that entrapped him, he felt that the tickling was always far more intense when he was unable to protect himself from it. 

Tony quickly finished with that area of knots and tangles, reaching the next spot, poor Peter’s tummy.

“P-please not there Mr. Stark, do my legs first,” Peter begged, his giggles from the previous webs just dying down. 

Peter didn’t expect him too, but Tony agreed, “I think that’s a good idea spiderling, the last thing we need is for you to kick and have your entire room come down with the webs.”

Tony didn’t spend too long on Peter’s legs, only receiving a few calm giggles, Peter found it easiest to stay still during this, putting his hands up to cover his face as he laughed. Luckily for Peter, he had been wearing his shoes before the web shooter went off, avoiding the tickly touches that would have otherwise afflicted him.

Once Tony was finished, the only thing left was to untangle the webs from above the teen’s tummy, nervous giggles erupting as Peter realized what would be next. Tony felt truly sympathetic knowing that Peter had to struggle to control himself during this entire process. 

“I’m really sorry Pete,” Tony said, before getting to work at the knots. Peter’s reaction was instant and contagious, loud, frantic giggles poured from him as instinctively grabbed Tony’s hands.

“If you want this over quickly than I’m gonna need my hands back. It’ll be over before you even know it.”

Of course, it was not over before Peter even knew it, and squeaky hiccups shook his body as he felt Tony’s fingers on his sensitive tummy. He closed his eyes and brought his arms to the ground, almost to brace himself. “Plehehease! I cahan’t!”

Tony wasn’t finished even half as fast as Peter could have hoped for, but eventually he came to the realization that the fingers had stopped, and he had the ability to curl up into a mess of giggles and sweat. 

Tony rubbed his back in an attempt to help the teen calm down, apologizing for the mercilessness. Neither of them had noticed the figure who had appeared in the door frame, both of them startled as Steve cleared his throat.

“So… Why didn’t you guys just cut the webs?”

[typometrics]

Socionics: (+/− Functions)

(source) - Russian translation

"The sign of a function in socioanalysis transmits the following aspects. First, it indicates the quality of the function: "+" a positive assessment of the quality, "−" a negative evaluation. Second, it indicates the scale of function: "+" means details, specifics, "−" means large scale, a general plan, a global consideration. Third, it indicates the distance of the effect of the function: "+" means that the function manifests at a short distance from the reference point, "−" means at a far distance. Fourth, the sign reflects the direction of the function: "+" means addition, acceptance, movement towards oneself, "−" means separation, return, movement away from oneself [1]. The term "aspects", used by V. V. Gulenko here, carries the connotation of "the contextual side of properties of functions."

Quality 

+ sign - the "positive", competence in the positive zone of properties and incompetence in the negative zone; 

− sign - withdrawal from the "negative", leaving negative properties for positive ones, competence in both positive and negative zones; 

Scale 

+ sign - locality, the "big plan", concretization, detalization within the sphere of the function; 

− sign - globality, "the general plan," universality of the function; 

Direction 

+ sign - the orientation into the sphere of the responsibility of the function (interest in protection of "own circle"); 

− sign - the orientation outside of the sphere of responsibility of the function (influence, "pressure" exerted on other "localities"); 

Distance 

+ sign - "close" psychological distance; 

− sign - "far" psychological distance.

Basing on the proposed placement of signs of functions, we can decipher the meaning of each of combination. Socionic functions ... carry, in our view, the following semantic content:

+ Fe  - positive emotions, joy, merriment, emotional elation, excitement, a smile, laughter, enthusiasm, optimism, good mood, the experience of happiness; 

− Fe  - negative emotions, grief, sorrow, sadness, emotional recession, depression, crying, tears, frustration, pessimism, poor mood, the experience of unhappiness;

+ Fi  - good relations, love, friendship, affection, attraction, warmth in relations, sociability, close psychological distance, goodness, compassion; 

− Fi  - poor relations, hatred, animosity, antipathy, repulsion, indifference in relations, alienation, unsociability, remote psychological distance, wickedness, mercilessness;

+ Te  - useful, beneficial, economical, technology, facts, acquisition, stockpiling, purchases, savings, bringing order, practicality; 

− Te  - useless, unprofitable, wasteful, utilization, deterioration, exhaustion, costs, expenses, risk-taking, experimentation, sales, trade, action in atmosphere of chaos, ingenuity;

+ Ti  - specificity, itemization, detailed study, thoroughness, accuracy, strictness, place in hierarchy, regulations, instructions, choosing the best option, precision of function, logic of organization, indicators, reporting; 

− Ti  - abstractness, generality, universality, system, classification, typology, general regularities, objectivity, truth, justice, comprehensive review, analysis, dissection, the logic of science, criteria;

+ Ne  - prospects, opportunities, positive potential, core meaning, essence, principle, new ideas, advancing hypotheses, theory, insight, interest, originality, unusual, fantastical, hopefulness;

− Ne  - hopelessness, alternatives, negative potential, meaninglessness, absurdity, paradox, the forgotten and the old, insight, mediocrity, commonness, repressed possibilities, reality, disbelief, sensation[hit];

+ Ni  - future, change in the situation over time, prediction, premonition, gradual development, evolution, gradual ascent, the dynamics of change, the flow of time, imagination, harmonious description, subtle step-by-step changes, convergence, confluence; 

− Ni  - past, accounting for errors, avoidance of danger, anxiety, a worrying premonition, a warning, the ripening of a crisis, revolution, a leap in time, ability to hedge against troubles, sudden shifts, discordant description, the moment of decisive action, divergence, deviation;

+ Se  - retention of power, insubordination, defense, cover, countermove, counterattack, firmness, defense of one's interests, strong-willed pressure from the bottom upwards, strength, will, possession; 

− Se  - capture of power, subjugation, offensive attack, initiative, perseverance, determination, demands, strong-willed pressure from top downwards, the assertion of own interests at the expense of others, overthrowing, appropriating, weakness, passivity;

+ Si  - pleasant sensations, comfort, convenience, harmony, beauty, attraction, leisure, health, relaxation, well-being, pleasure, enjoyment, sensitivity; 

− Si  - unpleasant thrill sensations, discomfort, inconvenience, disharmony, ugliness, unattractiveness, work, fatigue, stress, illness, suffering, pain [1].

"The plus (+) sign is usually associated with a trait of sustainability, immobility, while minus (–) sign is associated with a trait of transience, mobility. An example from physics: negatively charged electrons are in motion around the positively charged atomic nucleus. Consequently, the static trait is positive and dynamic trait is negative”

“I will be considering the top ring of model A, irrespective of which sociotype is being considered, as the static one, and the bottom ring – as the dynamic one. The ring of stabilization (top ring) is, therefore, a carrier of positive charge, and the ring of development (lower ring) is thus negatively charged. The ring of stabilization can thus be considered functional, and the ring of development – dysfunctional."

ALPHA: (-)Judging/(+)Perceiving

LII (-Ti/+Ne), ESE (-Fe/+Si), SEI (+Si/-Fe), ILE (+Ne/-Ti)

-Fe = minimization or avoidance of negative emotions, prevention of quarrels, scandals, and other situations causing emotional instability, which is valued as more important than creation of positive emotional effect.

-Ti = global structural logic. Systematic analysis is the instrument that they use in understanding the world. They are primarily interested in the universal laws that govern its workings. To that end, all traditions, conventions and restrictions are discarded. Everything is subjected to analysis, redefinition, analogies. Their main goal that they are pursuing is the creation of a comprehensive, breathtaking, singular picture of the world. The idea of unity, reasonableness and the fairness in all things permeates their vision completely.

+Si = positive feelings of comfort. They cannot effectively realize their potential if their lifestyle is full of hardships. Style of activity is characterized by relaxation, freedom, by conveniences. Relations with the external environment, where their activities unfold, must be friendly and pleasant. Their groups are always comfortable, relaxed as if at home, and never rough or eccentric.

+Ne = promising ideas. In this quadra, which can be attributed the element of air, there are frequent talks about the future, the unexplored and unknown possibilities. They may seem to be incorrigible dreamers. And this is so: they look out further than anyone, beyond the horizon, they put forward "crazy" theories and discuss them with pleasure. Some of these theories, however, are destined to have long lives, so long that they will outlast their creators.

BETA: (+)Judging/(-)Perceiving

LSI (+Ti/-Se), EIE (+Fe/-Ni), IEI (-Ni/+Fe), SLE (-Se/+Ti)

+Fe = maximization of positive emotions. Even small doses are enjoyed. Against the backdrop of the dramatic, turbulent emotions that always accompany this quadra, every small occurrence deserving a positive response is seen as an occasion for joy and uplifts their spirits.

+Ti = organizational logic. They have a developed sense of duty, citizenship, loyalty to the elected project. It is therefore the most disciplined and organized quadra that knows how to quickly rally its forces in the event of imminent danger or emergency situations.

-Se = minimization of weaknesses, i.e. steadfastness in the struggle against deprivation and resistance against the enemy. In this quadra, the force of will is an indispensable condition for effective operation. Persistence, determination, endurance and firmness are always the supreme authority.

-Ni = desire to bypass danger. They aim to avoid previously committed mistakes. In their groups, experience, skill, know-how, sophistication are highly valued. They feel confident in extreme situations.

GAMMA: (-)Judging/(+)Perceiving

ESI (-Fi/+Se), LIE (-Te/+Ni), ILI (+Ni/-Te), SEE (+Se/-Fi)

-Fi = minimization of negative relationships. This element is critical of evil. They desire to get away from bad people and poor relationships, and to protect themselves from enemies and adversaries. They want to minimize negative experiences, because as we know from psychoanalysis, all extruded problems are liable to generate an emotional reaction one way or another, with a physical cost for the purification of the subconscious.

-Te = business logic of risk and entrepreneurship. For them it is characteristic to reject that which is useless, insignificant, mundane. This aspect is valued as more important than accumulation and rational consumption. Gammas successfully operate in environments of economic scarcity, where in order to survive it is necessary to use something that may appear useless at first glace, but which is present in abundance.

+Se = durability and resistance. This quadra is well capable of defending itself and its position. For them power is not easy to acquire, as to do this they must resist the volitional Beta quadra. However, once it is seized, they can hold on to it despite all attempts at restoration. Protectiveness, ability to defend themselves against all force, ability to keep that which was acquired - these are the principles that they respect. This quadra can be called the quadra of criticism and reforms. In contrast to the 'fire' Beta quadra, which is oriented primarily politically, this quadra is oriented more socially.

+Ni = constraining their hot temper, these sociotypes prefer to advance gradually into the future, though they may sharply reject obsolete ideas, criticizing past mistakes. Advancing step by step, they generally believe in the linearity of development, i.e. according to their deep convictions, it is only necessary to remove obstacles, remnants of the past, and immediately this will open endless possibilities for growth. This quadra is not afraid of chaos and upheavals: they know how to conduct their work under conditions of change, risk and confusion.

DELTA: (+)Judging/(-)Perceiving

EII (+Fi/-Ne), LSE (+Te/-Si), SLI (-Si/+Te), IEE (-Ne/+Fi)

+Fi = positive, warm relationships. Psychological factors play a vital role for them. Without recognition of ethical values such as individuality and the uniqueness of others, religion and spirituality, non-interference in others lives, concrete humanism, etc., the stability they strongly desire is hardly possible.

+Te = logic of use and rational management of resources. This is the most cost-conscious quadra that consumes rationally and prefers high-quality long-lasting products. Risk, rushed jobs, economic chaos and manipulation are not characteristic of this quadra. The society of quality consumption should be stable.

-Si = minimization of discomfort. They value good working conditions and are reluctant to change their routines. This element excludes harmful influences from external environment. This quadra cannot work during emergencies. They highly value convenience, comfort at their workplace, and good coordination at work.

-Ne = the unusual, alternative and bizarre. Despite its groundedness, this quadra respects unusual and talented people who offer creative alternative possibilities. The spread of new information is not impeded, no matter how avant-garde it might be. In Delta groups, there occur periodic flashes of sensationalism and spikes of interest centered around original people who put forward alternative ideas of development.

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Word Count: 2,104

Summary: Alexys is the only one who believes in him, and part of that is only because she believes in herself. Despite the warning signs, she refuses to accept that there isn’t something redeemable in the alien overlord that was once a formidable enemy to she and her crew. Can her hope prevail over his malevolence?

*Author’s Note*: Another commission for @bad-blue-moon-rising, this time featuring her bad timeline canon AU for her selfship with Ug! Just by that description you should expect that it’s sad, and if you don’t, I’m telling you that it’s tragic and makes my heart hurt jfielshge BUT never fear, somewhere in there a happy ending can still be seen. I hope you enjoy!

A few weeks had passed since they’d managed to put the chaos to rest, but things were still pretty tense. Alexys was the one who shouldered the brunt of the burden, considering the integral role she’d played in creating this situation in the first place. Thanks to her, the fallout had caused less damage than expected, which was a relief no one took for granted. But she’d also convinced the crew to allow her to bring the TerraCor head back with them, alive and in one piece. Not everyone was keen on the idea from the beginning, and it had taken all of Alexys’s skill and persuasive power to convince them that this decision wouldn’t end up coming back to bite them. Their circumstances already couldn’t get much worse, which was probably why the team ended up caving to her proposition with minimal fuss.

Part of her was still in denial about the fact that she’d fought for such a cause at all. She had every right to be just as bitter as everyone else, to take her frustrations out on the man at the root of the nightmare they’d just barely managed to survive. He was ruthless and stubborn and unappealing…well, that last point was a little bit debatable in her eyes. Eyes whose opinion she wished she could have ignored, that she regretted letting sway her feelings in the first place. The man they’d captured and taken into their care was stoic and calculating and harsh, but Alexys was still able to see something more in him. She wasn’t entirely sure what that “more” happened to be yet, but she’d already decided that such information wasn’t essential for her to come to a conclusion.

It should have been, though. She should have used her head, listened to the others, taken their advice. She should have seen what they did, followed the thoughts and feelings they exhibited that were rationally guarded and judgmental. This alien tyrant didn’t deserve a second chance, didn’t deserve an opportunity to be rehabilitated, if such a thing was even possible. Something in Alexys desperately wanted to discover that it was, that she would be able to pull it off. She didn’t know the first thing about reforming someone’s bad habits, especially ones that were as nasty as his. Stampeding through the star systems and imposing his will on any and all that stood in his path. All he cared about was the wellbeing of his business—the entity, not the people.

He’d cost the crew members more than they cared to remember, but also what they swore they’d never forget. They couldn’t afford to, because they felt it was necessary to cling to the blame and rage that they’d cultivated towards this man who had become their natural enemy. So much conflict and confusion and pain…he’d instigated all of it, and yet Alexys wanted to keep him like a pet. She wanted to nurture him and help him see the error of his ways. The rest of the crew figured that receiving just punishment would be adequate enough to teach him a lesson, but the girl was insistent on not treating him with violence. To her, yielding to the encouragement of such malicious spite would only end up making them as bad as him.

They had a lot more to deal with upon their return to Earth than just the problems they brought back with them. That was another reason everyone had reluctantly deigned to agree with Alexys, because they didn’t have the energy or the focus to try to argue with her, knowing that in the end they still wouldn’t be able to change her mind. She was firm in her beliefs, and if she really wanted to be the one responsible for babysitting the heathen that’d threatened their lives, then what was the point of trying to stop her?

Well, it was the principle of the thing, really…none of them wanted to be forced to see the face of the man that’d caused them so much grief ever again, who had stolen so much from them, especially in Ethan’s case. Despite the close relationship he and Alexys shared, she wasn’t going to let it alter her conviction. Unfortunately, as a result, it seemed a rift had formed between them. Ethan rightfully felt betrayed, while Alexys felt guilty and confused about whether or not she’d actually done the right thing. She didn’t like knowing she’d hurt her friend, the boy who felt like family to her. He was still family in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if he saw her that way anymore. As depressing as it was, they’d all lost someone, and if she could move past it and end up helping the culprit improve his ways and atone accordingly, then the extra suffering she was currently enduring would be worth it.

On the other hand, if he truly did end up changing his ways, Alexys wasn’t sure what she’d do. What could she do with someone like him, an alien with a merciless disregard for anything that didn’t suit him or his goals? He’d been somewhat cooperative with her so far, which was a good sign, but there was always a hint of caution in the back of her mind that was ready to pounce the moment something started to go wrong. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to fight or detain him on her own, which was an objective truth due to his strength. She’d seen what he could do with and without a weapon, and she was confident he’d be more than formidable in defending himself against even a group of trained athletes or soldiers. In a way, she supposed he could be seen as a soldier for his own cause. But he was going to have to let it rest, because that ship had sailed for him. Here on Earth, she was going to do whatever it took to impress the reality of his situation upon him.

They were sitting across from one another in the living room, her leaning against the armrest of her chair while he sat tied up in his own. A couple of her friends had made sure to tie him up tightly, and maybe even a little painfully. The alien didn’t mind, and for now neither did Alexys. His comfort wasn’t what was important, but his comprehension, his understanding. If she could get him to see things the way she and the rest of her friends did, maybe she’d have a better shot at convincing him why he needed to change. Whether he thought he’d done anything wrong or not, she was sure he had to have some sense of morals crammed in a dark corner of his subconscious, just waiting to be dusted off and put to good use again…if he’d ever even used them before, that is.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare at me all day?” His tone was thick with the implication that she was the one offending him. With a defiant huff she crossed her arms and settled back in her chair. “If I knew this is what I had to look forward to when I was brought to this bore of a planet, I would have put more effort into my escape.”

A bout of incredulous laughter burst forth from Alexys’s mouth. “Oh please. As if you have the means to try to escape now. How long are you going to keep this pompous leader complex up, anyway? Because I promise no one’s buying it anymore.”

“It’s not an act, it’s simply who I am,” he replied with a sneer, and Alexys shrugged.

“Well, you’re going to have to get over that eventually. Because no matter how much you want to be, that’s not who you are anymore. The people you controlled, the power you had, it’s all gone. Dust in the wind, never coming back. So, if you’re still interested in having some kind of meaningful future, you’ll stop being so arrogant and at least try to listen to what I have to say. What I’ve been saying for the past couple of weeks. I’m honestly getting tired of having to repeat myself.”

“Then you could just give up,” he challenged with a smirk, and Alexys was just a few seconds away from lunging over the table and punching him.

Instead, she stood up and made her way around the table in a much more civil, sensible manner. She leaned in close to his face, examining it for any trace of something salvageable she could work with. It was pretty hard, almost impossible, and the girl was starting to think maybe he was right. So much time and energy wasted on a lost cause, someone whose viewpoint wasn’t going to be influenced or budged no matter what she tried. But she couldn’t give up, not yet, maybe not ever. She’d vowed to make bringing this man back with them worth it, to have something to show after how hard she’d fought to make it happen. It was like they were caught up in an endless game, and somehow, he was playing it better than her without even knowing the rules. She wasn’t going to let him make her give in, though. If she ended up calling off this little arrangement, it would have to be on her terms.

He tried to shuffle away as she approached, but due to his restraints his movement was impaired to the point of immobility. He gritted his teeth in dissatisfaction, trying to overcome the urge to turn and look at her. There was something wrong with him every time he saw her face, something distracting and unpleasant. And the one thing that made it so unpleasant to him was that deep down…it actually wasn’t unpleasant. It wasn’t something he was trying to feel or think or do, but it seemed his mind and emotions had other plans, and they were running wild inside him with reckless abandon. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if such things persisted…he wasn’t sure what he could do about them as they stood now.

What happened next startled them both beyond belief. Without warning or even really meaning to, Alexys reached out and ruffled his hair. Usually smooth and slicked down, she’d done away with any and all remnants of the utilitarian style. Now his hair was sticking up in all directions, naturally fluffy, curly, and voluminous. There were lingering traces of whatever product he’d used on it here and there, but for the most part she’d rubbed it all out. Or at least, she’d given his hair the opportunity to return to its original state as opposed to being forced into boring flatness by his hideous air gel.

“What in the—what are you doing?” he was simultaneously annoyed and astonished, and he also wasn’t sure which reaction was more potent. “Don’t touch me, what were you thinking?”

“I like it.”

That simple phrase shut him up in a heartbeat. He looked at her out of reflex, and the moment his eyes fell upon her face, he swore his heart stopped completely. She was looking at him with such affection, such tenderness…the softest expression he’d ever seen anyone make in the entire universe. No, those unwanted feelings couldn’t be coming back, she couldn’t be doing this to him…but she was. He was helpless to her charm, a charm that she didn’t even know she possessed, and that she probably would have denied if someone tried pointing it out to her. But it was this charm that kept him here, convinced him to be as accommodating as his pride could tolerate. Every time she used it on him, he felt another piece of his resolve being chipped away, making room for the feelings that seemed to never stop expanding deep within him.

“So, Counselor—” The way she said his title made him shiver. His real name was Ug, the name he’d been christened with at birth. He preferred to be known by his official title, Counselor Tetra, head of the recently disbanded TerraCor. A name that had once struck fear and respect into the hearts of anyone who heard it. He didn’t plan on giving into his captors easily, granting them access to information as personal as his true identity, but even his skepticism was getting difficult to cling to. When she said it, or really anything addressing him, all he could think about was how much he wanted her to do it again. “Where do we go from here?”

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 16

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 16 - Mad Hat

It had taken Jefferson a long time to calm down after his argument with his handler, and he felt Belle’s eyes on him, and almost heard her wondering whether she should say something to him or just leave him be. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe out the bad taste that speaking with the man, that was supposed to have had his back, had left in his mouth.

In the end, as though she couldn’t stand the thick silence any longer, Belle spoke.

“Now what?” she asked softly. “You said something about…” She trailed off, and he sensed she had done so deliberately to get him talking and not because she couldn’t remember what he’d said.

“Going to pick up my car, yeah,” he said, and offered her a tired smile and an even more exhausted apology. “Sorry you had to hear all that. Not my finest moment, I assure you.”

“I seem to have shared a lot of those lately,” she told him, completely without any sense of malice in her voice, and as much tiredness as he had himself.

“Once I have the car, we’ll get on the road again,” he promised, and reached over to gently touch the top of her shoulder. “Take you to my… friend. He’ll keep you safe.”

The hesitation was barely there, a reflection of not knowing what exactly to call Gold. He wasn’t a friend, and yet he owed the man his life…

”You have about five seconds to start talking before my finger gets tired… maybe cramps, twitches… pulls the trigger.”

“Duneach, this isn’t what it looks li—” he started, frozen in place by the hardness of the gun barrel at the base of his skull. He got no further as the smaller man assaulted the back of his leg with a merciless kick and all but roared in the same moment that the explosion of pain forced Jefferson’s knee to give up its support of him.

“Don’t call me that!”

He hit the smooth concrete of the floor hard, but rolled to his back to keep the other man in sight; to keep the gun in sight as he stared up into the dark hollow of its muzzle.

“Who you are isn’t it?” he gasped.

The answer came not as an argument or denial, but as another swift kick aimed at the balls. He rolled. The immaculately polished toe of the man’s expensive shoe hit hard against his inner thigh instead. Still painful, but not debilitating, and that was, he figured, vital at that point.

He snatched at the man’s ankle before he could withdraw the foot, and pulled it toward him. His already off balance opponent was taken down easily with such a tactic, snarling and spitting accented curses like a rabid animal. Jefferson’s mind raced as he fought to decipher the words.  He’d long suspected this one was different than the others… no softer, but it was clear to the young agent that the man didn’t approve of what the leader of the organization - no less than his mother - was doing. Duneach, they shared a name, and yet this man denied it.

Jefferson scrambled to his knees. If he was going to test his theory, he needed to keep the man down; subdued so he could reason with him, and already he’d lost precious seconds. He tried to to pin the man, but that precious time lost was the difference between success and failure. Duneach’s son threw him off, and followed with a rolling forearm smash to the middle of his back, winding him into immobility again even as he could hear the man behind him moving.

He heard it at the last minute. The sickly melodic slide, and then the tremulous single note as the air vibrated along the length of the wire. He felt the sting of it wrap around his neck, at his throat, the garrote starting to cut into his skin as Duneach pulled hard; tightened the wire around his neck even as he leaned down to half growl, half whisper as if in intimate innuendo, “Who are you?”

“I…” he rasped. Hard to talk when he was being half throttled, half sliced to death. He made himself complete the sentence; not to panic. One wrong word…  “I’m on your side, man,” he scratched out. “I’m on your si—” The tightening wire cut off the words, and he felt the run of blood, hot and wet down the sides of his neck, his throat.

“FBI…” he gasped, risking everything on his hunch, do or die. “FBI!”

“Jefferson?”  Belle’s cold fingers brushed the back of his hand, and he blinked, realizing with a start that he was clutching at the scarf around his neck. “Are you all right?”

He took a trembling breath, let it out slowly to try and steady himself, and swallowed hard.

“Let me…” he began hoarsely, ignoring the question and the worried look he saw in her eyes. “Let me call Ryde. We… we need to get out of here.”

**

“You need me to wait?”

By the time the Ryde arrived and had driven them to the twenty-four-seven storage facility to which Jefferson had directed them, it was well after two in the morning, and aside from the fact that he was starting to feel the worse for wear, Jefferson could tell that Belle was struggling.

Once they had his car though, things would be better… easier. Belle could rest and he could drive them a way north, take a break at some non-descript motel somewhere out of the way where no one would ask too many questions, and maybe manage to get in touch with Gold with more than just panicked, encrypted emails.

“Nah,” he said to the driver, who looked somewhat doubtful of the answer. “We’re good from here.”

“You sure, bro?”

It took all of Jefferson’s self control not to snap at the guy. He knew he was only trying to be helpful, and he could tell that his concern was genuine too - unlike a lot of people in his position.

“Yeah, I…” Something made him hesitate. Maybe the guy’s doubt was rubbing off on him, maybe it was something else, but the thought crossed his mind that it would be just like Rebecca to pull some kind of stunt with his car and—

“Tell you what,” the driver offered when Jefferson didn’t say anything else for another minute or so, lost in worried thought as he was. “How ‘bout I wait say… fifteen, twenty minutes or so - no charge, it’s my lunch break anyway, and then… if there’s problems, I can take you somewhere you and your lady can rest up. If not,” he shrugged. “No harm - no foul.”

Jefferson considered the option for a while until he felt a light touch on his arm, and turned to see Belle’s gaze quite sensibly, but silently imploring him to listen to the man.

“All right,” he said before he turned back to the driver, “Yeah, thanks. That’s very kind of you.”

He offered the man as much of a winning, though almost bashful smile as he could muster as he began to guide Belle toward the gate, where he punched in his access code, half expecting it not to work. After only a moment though, the gate swung open slowly on its automated hinges, and he let out a breath as he nodded to Belle to precede him.

The walk from the gate to the storage unit in question wasn’t a long one, and it was a ground floor unit. It would have to be, after all, since it was meant to be nothing more than a glorified garage. The second unit, somewhere in the compound, not so much. That had the rest of his life safely packed away inside with all the memories of the happier times before he’d lost Cilla. He tried not to think too much about it, but simply being at the storage facility held too many deep, grief filled memories.

He took a deep breath, pushed the thoughts away, at least to the back of his mind for the moment as he came to a stop outside of a double padlocked storage unit with a roller door.

“This is us,” he told Belle. “We’ll be on our way soon.”

She nodded wordlessly, moving to lean against the wall between his unit and the one beside it as he unfastened the padlocks and began to roll the door open. Part way, when the light from outside illuminated the darkness within, he saw with growing anger that he had been more than right to be suspicious of his sister-in-law.

She had blamed him for her sister’s death, and took every opportunity to let him know about it in any way she could. Nothing was beneath her, and she knew all of his buttons to push.

”Empty Promises, Jefferson!” Rebecca’s expression spoke of bitterness… blame. Contempt. “Always the same with you though, isn’t it? So, Can’t count on you for anything.”

Anger flared in Jefferson, white hot and violent and he took a step toward Rebecca before he knew what he was doing, until the tension of it brought him up short.

“How dare you suggest I would ever abandon my Grace!” he couldn’t even force his tone into the icy cold he wanted, simply yelled the words right into her face.

“That’s practically what you have done,” she spat back, her face twisted into an ugly knot that destroyed all similarity to her sister that he might have previously seen. “Left it to us to feed her, clothe her, pay for her care when she’s sick…”

She might have gone on, but he roared her down again. “Fuck you, Rebecca! You are more than well compensated for taking care of Grace.”

“This isn’t about the money, Jefferson,” Rebecca had flushed, and he saw she clenched her fists at her side.

“That’s exactly what this is about,” he contradicted her, pointing a long finger almost right at her face. “You were happy enough to snatch Grace from my arms when they said they wanted me under deep.”

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let you put her into foster care for God knows how long?” she snapped. “She’s family.”

“No one ever mentioned foster care, Bex.” Jefferson paced, ran a hand through his hair as he turned back to her, arms open in a helpless gesture. “You told me I should do it; told me you’d be happy to look after Grace until I could come home. Now suddenly she’s an inconvenience? I could have told them no.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Her look turned ugly again. “Because then she wouldn’t have grown up without her father.”

He clenched his jaw and snarled softly at first, but his tone escalating, “She didn’t. I came whenever I could.”

“Not nearly often enough.” Her words were a slap to his face. “So now you’re saying three months…? Six? Another year…?” She shook her head. “Like I said, Jefferson. They’re empty promises.”

He spun around, not even bothering to close the door again and almost ungently grasped Belle by the arm and began to lead her back toward the gate.

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Fourteen: Moments in Time

This covers whumptober prompt twenty-five: disorientation. Thank you!

Chapter Fifteen: Down Once More 

Snow piled high on the banks outside. Peter looked out at the frozen lake from the safety of the warm indoors. A group of teenagers stood at the banks throwing rocks across what ice was frozen there. The projectiles skidded against the surface and scraped a trail through the snow so Peter could see the wobbly lines from his viewpoint.

“You have to run.”

Peter shook his head and tried to focus back on the group outside only to find the shore was empty. The lines in the ice filled in as it continued snowing out. It was subtle at first. He’d thought the stay in the hospital and trying to balance everything had caused him to be more tired than usual. But he’d begun to suspect the longer he stayed in the past, the more the present was closing in on him. Peter could feel the grit of the sand clinging to his memories. The rubbing friction was like sandpaper every time they crept up on him.

“Run, Peter!”

Rhodey’s face marred with blood stared back at him through the window panes. Tony stood behind him dashing toward an invisible enemy before looking at him, straight through him, as he crumpled to the ground. They were there inside the glass, stuck in the bits of melted sand, but they were also figments of his memory. Did these memories know he would be sent back when they asked him to run?

Blood ran down the glass masking their faces with red. Peter held his stomach to keep from getting sick. He shook his head, slammed his fists on the bedding to stop the images from reoccurring. When he opened his eyes, the scene had changed. It was so much worse. Their lifeless bodies were fallen and laid vulnerable on the ground. Blood tricked from them and pooled underneath their still limbs. They were dead and flames rose above them.

He was nauseous. Was this the future? Could he somehow see what hadn’t yet come to pass? Peter’s breath quickened as time pressed in on him.  He didn’t feel like he was in the present anymore as the two apparitions weighed on him.  He needed to breath.

Peter stood up. He ran down the hall and to the living room needing to see if Tony and Rhodey were whole. A sigh escaped him when he saw them on the couch. Their heads were slumped together while a Seinfeld episode played in the background.

They looked up at him on his sudden entry.

“Peter?” Tony said.

“I was… That is… I’m just going to go back to my room.”  He turned back around until he was back on his bed. The mattress sunk under his weight. It was enough to know they were just beyond his door. Here in this present. Peter realized he wanted to stay if it meant being in a time were those two fools were alive. Here they hadn’t betrayed him. They looked after him as well as any young adult could care for another and the thought of going back to the future where he didn’t know their fate was worse than he could believe. Maybe he would never go back. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he almost didn’t hear the door open. “Me thinks we’ve been cooped up in here for too long.” Tony smiled from the doorway. “And I know just the thing to cheer you up.”

Peter protested often and loudly on their walk down to the lake. Their breaths mingled and smoked into the air before the breeze swept it away. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Why don’t we just have a movie night?”

“Because exercise is good for a growing boy.” Rhodey said with a smirk.

“You can’t make me go on the ice.” 



“I think you’ll find his powers of persuasion are too great for any person.” Rhodey shook his head with a wink at Peter.

They walked away from the path and down the hill. The banks were cleared of any fall plants and the trio settled on a dry patch of sand. Rhodey and Tony tied up their ice skates. Peter was keeping his shoes on and nothing Tony could say would change that. It wasn’t because he was scared but the pit in his stomach churned with each step closer.

This was the lake where it happened. The icy water he’d plunged into. Was he running away at that point or running toward something? Peter could almost feel the impression of the sand gritty against his skin as he sat there on shore. It was pulling him closer, beckoning him to something out of his reach.

He wrapped his arms around himself.

“You okay?” Rhodey wobbled beside him on his skates.

“I’m going to stay here. I… don’t say anything to Tony but, you know, the water.”

Realization dawned on his face and he nodded. “I’ll distract him. No worries.”

“Hey you kids, let’s go!” Tony yelled from the ice. His excitement was palpable. The sparkle in his eyes and frantic wave of his hands spurred Rhodey forward. Rhodey took to the ice, jumping over a thin spot, and raced passed Tony.

“I’m gonna win!” He yelled. Tony shouted and sufficiently distracted raced after Rhodey.

They didn’t know it was this exact lake. The phone incident continued to be on his mind. Maybe someday he could tell them but not yet. It was easy to forget in such a picturesque place what would happen if consequences were forgotten but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything with his wistful thoughts. He would wait and think, and only if the situation demanded would he impart his secrets.

Rhodey swung Tony in a circle. Around and around in tight circles they skated until Tony flung off across the ice. He fell to his butt. His mouth dropped in surprise. Rhodey laughed. He braced his hands on his knees as he full bellied chuckled at his friend. Peter couldn’t help the smirk slide across his face.

The wind penetrated through his jacket. His hairs on the back of his neck tingled and his stomach tightened. Time slowed. Rhodey slapped his tights and began skating toward Tony. He pushed off the ice, digging the blades of his skates in and pushing off.

To Peter it appeared as though nothing happened. Tony was laughing and Peter’s smile was frozen on his face. But Rhodey stopped. The sounds of the ice cracking barely preceded the ice crumbling. He disappeared; sunk into the dark water revealed by the ice. Would he never return like Peter did with his own time? Or worse, would they find him cold with no life?

His legs were moving before he had time to think. Peter raced onto the ice. Tony was further away from his slide and Peter knew he had a better chance at helping. He ran as close as he dared and got onto his stomach, crawling the rest of the distance to the hole in the ice. His muscles coiled and he focused on his spider senses for the first time in a while. Peter navigated the thin patches of ice, feeling what route was best to go. Tony screamed out to them. The brunette skated closer but he didn’t pay attention to the weakening ice under his skates.

“Stop!” Peter screamed. Thank god he listened to him. “There’s thin ice all around here. Damnit!”

The hole’s edges were jagged and weeping at the center. Peter took off his coat and sweater, tossing them onto the ice. He heard Tony calling someone and was thankful the man was rich enough to have one of those huge cell phones, though he didn’t want to know where he hid it.

Peter weighed his options quickly to decide the best course of action because reaching forward. He dipped his arm into the water and reached as far down as he could. What he wouldn’t give to feel fingers close around his. Peter’s fingers tingled but his hand remained empty. The water splattered on the ice as he grabbed his jacket. He was shaking now but worked through it tying the end of the jacket to his waist. Tony knelt beside him and Peter handed him the other end.

“Hold tight and lay there. Please if it falls call for help. They’ll be worried at the hospital when I emerge from this lake twice.” Tony’s eyes widened at his pronouncement.

“I should go in.” 



“I’m faster than you, there’s no time to argue.”



Tony’s grip tightened around the jacket but didn’t let go when Peter tried to move. He looked over.

“It will be okay, Tony. Trust me.” Tony swallowed and enveloped Peter in a hug. He stiffened for a moment and then melted into the embrace. “Thank you.” He whispered before extracting himself and sliding into the water.

Ice shocked his system. Shivers wracked his body. Peter treaded at the top. Tony yelled something at him but he couldn’t hear over his heartbeat. The last inhale he took sent pikes into his lungs.

Peter took a huge breath and dived under. Water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter.

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if Tony could see them from above. It didn’t matter now.

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above.

The particles of sand swirled around him. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world.

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped.

He was repeating the past, trapped in a cycle he had no control over. His heart pounded in his ears and with one last push of energy Peter push off the ground ignoring the call he heard. His arms flailed out and his lung was going to explode. The hope he had was on its last dregs and then he grasped something.

Peter’s hand tightened around another hand. A hand with some warmth running through it. He fought against the tide, against the call of time and kicked as hard as he could. The light of the surface grew closer and closer until, with one last call of the sand, Peter broke the surface with Rhodey in his arms.

Thank you!

 Is the title a POTO reference? We may never know. 

Next Chapter Sixteen: 

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Nine: For the Greater Good Part One 

This is part two of chapter nine and fills whumptober day 9! Thank you for reading.

Chapter Ten: For the Greater Good Part Two

Winter, 2017. Four weeks into escape.

“Does this thing even work?”

Rain splattered on the balcony and windows locking them inside for the day. The weather wasn’t just affecting the outside. Tony locked himself in his room. The sound of his music vibrating through the walls so they could hear from the living room. Rhodey was sitting on the couch, book in hand, but Peter noticed he hadn’t turned the page in over fifteen minutes. Peter was walking around the living room in circles, tracing his fingers along all the objects and watching as the shadows cast strange lights into the space they were stuck in.

He paused in front of the side table by Rhodey. Behind the light there was an old phone. Peter twirled the plastic covered wire around his finger. The curls bounced back to their original coiled form connecting the receiver to the stand. Sesame seeds covered the top and when Peter picked it up the patty and faux melted cheese held buttons to dial. The burger shaped phone was fit perfectly in this out of time apartment.

Rhodey glanced over and smiled at Peter’s pretend dialing. “Sure, it does. Tony and I used it for so many prank calls in the day. Isn’t it great?”

“I’ve always wanted to see one like this!” “What do you think?” “I can tell it’s been put to use in its day.” He said rubbing his finger along the holes where the seeds should have been and worn paint on the top of the bun. “I love those ones that are clear with the neon insides.”

Rhodey smirked and closed his book. Peter sent a quirked brow at the man’s laugh but received a shrug in response. He set the phone back into its base and continued on in his perusal of the room. When he looked back at Rhodey the kitchen, the book was closed beside him. He was still looking at the plastic hamburger a distant, glazed over finish in his eyes.

-

Winter, 2017. Five weeks into escape.

Fire raced through his lungs and down his legs but he couldn’t stop running. He didn’t care if they knew about his powers as long as the people behind him didn’t catch him; as long as Rhodey and Tony were safe. He pumped his legs harder but it made no difference, they were still right on his trail.

“We can’t let him go back!” They yelled trying to close in on him. It was a close race and Peter felt the sweat behind his knees. What he needed was more time. They came to the path stretching around the lake. Never in all their walks on this crumbling cement path would Peter have thought he would be running for his life. Peter hesitated before veering off the path and onto the snow-covered grass. He was not going to make this easy for them. The bushes and frozen plant life were hard and he to push through them, breaking their stems, in order to race toward the beach.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought how strange it was he was working so hard not to be captured again. Only weeks ago, he had wanted to keep a distance from Rhodey and Tony, and now he was hurt and running. All to stay with them.

He ran to the left of the old drainage pipes and turned the corner to rest on the wall of the structure. Panting hard, his breath visible in steaming puffs wafted up. It was so damned cold out. He winced at an especially strong breeze, brows furrowed tight with pain as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. He rolled his neck back and forth trying to stave off the lethargy fogging his mind. The tears in his shirt moved in the wind to reveal slashes in the skin along his arms and torso. The cold bit into the wounds draining him of energy with each breath he took.  

A twig snapped. He had lingered too long. The waves lapped against the shore and Peter took off running again despite his protesting muscles and screaming headache. There was a dock protruding into the lake. His senses pointed towards the wooded planks like a compass. Wood rattled under his feet until he stopped and turned to face his opponents at the other end. They stood at the edge of the shore, guns cocked and aimed at him. With all the time in the world they began to walk toward him.

The hair on his neck rose the closer they came. Why did he run this way? Peter threw his hands up.

“Please.” He said. “Don’t take me back. I-”

“Shut up.” One of the men with cold, grey eyes said and raised his gun higher. The wind whipped around them, stinging the cuts on his face.

He had to do something. There was too much at stake. Rhodey and Tony were fighting for him and they deserved the same attempt from him. He was coming to love the little apartment, blue room, and even the two occupants. His time with them was short and, at times, full of distrust and apathy, but it changed him. The Peter who had given up and hide in that place was not the same person as the Peter who was standing, shaking but firm, at the end of the dock.  

Peter stepped forward – he had to stop them - and the gun went off.

The sound echoed off the ice like a thousand gunshots exploded. Peter almost laughed at their poor aim, smirked at how they missed their target at such a short range, before his side erupted in pain. Blood dripped from a newly formed whole in his t-shirt spreading onto his pants and painting the dock. He clutched the material staring wide-eyed at the perpetrators. He shook his head to clear the blurriness of their faces but the focused details never came. Peter coughed which sent another burning wave through him. He collapsed to one knee. One of his arms were still stretched out to stop them from coming closer. A warning they weren’t heeding.

“Let’s bring him in.”

They walked forward. Peter was bleeding onto the snow. He was shot and wounded, and they were going to take him away. He would go back to that place. Shouldn’t he want that? Wasn’t it what he deserved? For so long it was the mantra he told himself when he woke up and went to sleep. The cold walls and cold eyes were a comfort to him. Made him remember the pain better so he became that and nothing else. But what if it wasn’t everything? Maybe the pain wasn’t everything he was meant to be. He scrambled back, biting his lip to keep from yelling.

“Stop!” He said with shaking breath.

They didn’t listen. Peter struggled to get to his legs. He swayed back and noticed the red covering his three, no four, hands. He blinked and found he lost a couple of limbs when the dizziness receded. Peter frowned and his vision tunneled before he was moving.

He fell backward. Wind whipped across his back before he crashed into something hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him leaving him gasping. Black spots spotted his vision but his hearing was clear. The ice was cracking underneath him. At first it was small fissures in the frozen water, but they joined with other cracks and fractured out to create bigger, more damaging weaknesses.

It was without a sound that the ice gave way and water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter.

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago, fell onto. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if his younger self would have appreciated it or if he would have been disappointed the bubbles disappeared into the air. It didn’t matter now. Red tendrils of blood floated around him infusing into the water. At least there would be something left of him here after he was gone.

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above.

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world.

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped.

Thank you! 

Next Chapter Eleven: Where in the World is Peter?