Spiderman Oneshots

Hydra (2)

By popular request. Depictions of PTSD, please read with caution.

Peter took a deep breath, swallowing hard against the pain in his throat at the sight of his new family injured. It was a bad habit, suppressing the emotions, one that the nice man at SHIELD was trying to convince him to break, but he never demanded or ordered Peter to do anything, and he was still figuring out how to choose these things for himself.

He'd also been told he didn't need to feel guilty, but that couldn't stop him. Mere months ago it would have been him causing those injuries, with no remorse or second thoughts. Only bitter regret at them getting away with hearts still beating. He was meant to be clever - how had been so blind? He shouldn't be allowed to make his own decisions when he'd gotten so much wrong already.

I'm sorry, he wanted to say from his place in the corner, but his voice betrayed him at times like this. His words dried up and he found himself unable to speak, to say the words that might help. This is my fault.

Because those injuries were from a raid on another Hydra base, and if Peter had just told them what had happened to him over the years, and shared the knowledge he had of Hydra's inner workings and techniques, however limited, they might have done better. Might not have gotten hurt. Steve wouldn't look so worried as Sam's arm was put into a cast, Tony's expression might not be so grim as he examined the damage to his suit. He wanted to tell them. He should tell them. But every time he tried, he couldn't bring himself to form the words. Couldn't take that final step of betrayal.

Not like it wasn't enough that he had abandoned his mission. Disobeyed orders. Colluded with the enemy. Allowed himself to let down his guard, to trust, to live with the Avengers, and visit SHIELD agents without attacking or having any intent to report back to his masters. He was like the Winter Soldier now, he knew. Bucky. His name would be whispered by the others like he'd used to be. The Spider. Traitor. Kill on sight.

The Avengers protected him, like they protected Bucky. He trusted them with his safety. They were his home, his family. But no matter how he raged at himself, he didn't tell them anything.

It made it worse, somehow, that they never asked. Never pushed for information, even in the direst situation. He had no doubt they'd listen if he spoke, but they never pried.

And oh, there were tears on his face. The SHIELD man would be proud of him. How bizarre, to please someone with such a display of weakness and lack of self-control.

"Peter?" Natasha came slowly close and crouched near him. Not too close, and without sneaking. They'd all learnt not to do that the hard way. Another thing he was sorry for, although they didn't seem to mind. "Hey, look at me?"

He gave a slight nod, meeting her eyes. One of them had a black bruise around it, and he looked away.

"Peter, look at me. This isn't your fault, okay? We're all fine, we're safe. We're glad to see you."

Peter nodded, but the tears wouldn't stop and his closed throat wouldn't open.

Of all the Avengers, Peter liked Natasha the best. She seemed to understand him the most. Although she'd never worked for Hydra like Bucky had, Bucky'd had a life before them, but she had been indoctrinated from childhood like Peter. Trained to hunt and kill and have no mercy, like Peter, and rescued by SHIELD and reformed and now a hero, doing good things. Like Peter wished he could be.

The Avengers treated him like family and some days he felt like he really was. Other days he felt guilty. He didn't deserve them, after what he'd done. Didn't deserve their company, their kindness, their names.