Broken Cages (MCU)✔️

You're Alive

I kept Peter upright as we stayed on the side of the road, trying our best to conceal our escape from anyone who had been alerted of the gunfight. I truly did not know if any of them lived, and I would not stop running until I was sure Peter and I were safe. Peter was in a much worse state, and he stumbled, managing to stay upright even when his eyes closed. I had stopped briefly, if only to check him for injuries. I assumed he must have been drugged when I couldn't find anything obvious. I was impressed with how well he was fighting it.

It took hours, but eventually, we were in a town, and I took my chance, knocking on a door.

A man in a nightcap opened the door, and I smiled, both at him and my luck. I didn't speak his language, but I motioned for the phone, and he let us inside. His wife had also come out of what appeared to be a bedroom, and she rushed toward us when she saw our state, fussing over me while keeping slightly clear of Peter. It wasn't that he looked frightening. But he was a man.

I cursed at myself for knowing no numbers, but I managed to get a number out of Peter. I had no idea who would answer, but I almost cried when I heard Tony answer, "Hello."

'Tony?" I croaked out.

"Kid, is that you?" His voice was just as raw as mine.

"I got us out," I whispered.

"Of course you did, kid. I'll never be able to repay you for this."

I had the man give him the address, and then we waited. The woman, Cerise, gave us water, bread, and blankets. Peter started to sober up from whatever he had been given, but I told him to rest after getting some water and food into him. His head lay on my lap, passed out, breathing steadily while I watched the window through closed blinds. Cerise sat beside me, holding my hand.

It took a few hours before there were lights on the street. A car parked, but I didn't shake Peter awake until I heard a knock on the door. Tony was the first one through the door, followed by Natasha, who rushed over to us.

Steve followed but only glanced our way, instead shaking the kind man's hand who had aided us. Cerise got up, giving us space, when Tony dropped to his knees in front of us, pulling Peter off my lap and into a hug. Peter grunted but could snake his arms around his guardian's neck.

Natasha, who didn't seem much of a hugger, pulled me into one. "You're alive."

"And they are all dead," I shared. Her eyes flashed, "you can brief us in the car; let's get the hell out of here."

Tony pulled Peter to stand but stumbled under his weight as Peter leaned heavily on him. "I've got this old man," Steve said, lifting Peter over his shoulder. Thank god he never carried me like that.

Natasha followed Steve, and I stopped to hug Cerise and her husband before I left. Tony waited for me, putting a protective arm around my shoulder as we left the warmth of their home.

We were silent for the ride. Natasha sat in the back next to me and Peter, choosing the middle to help keep him steady. She said I needed to rest my head.

Peter was able to stumble to the plane with the help of Steve, and he was placed on the same set of chairs I had been all those months ago. Instead of resting, I was brought into the conference room for a briefing. All I wanted was to lay with Peter, but I didn't know if that would happen without my explanation first.

"Why didn't you come for us?"

I had to know.

"We... we didn't know where you were," Steve choked out. "And we looked. I promise you that." He looked broken. They all did, and so I elected to believe them. If not for me, then for Peter.

So, I shared with them the events of the week. Who was dead. "I don't know if Adam is truly dead," I shared. And I feared he was worse than my father and his father. But at least he didn't have the influence. At least not yet.

Eventually, they let me rest. I changed into some of Loki's clothes. Loki had been dropped off with Barnes to help him find my cousin. They were making ground, but it was a battle. I hoped my cousin could get out, even without knowing her, which made me think that I was not my parent's daughter. I had empathy and love—something they never had.

I was glad my father was dead. My mother, well, I barely glanced at her body. She had a more complicated life than most, but she dealt with it in all the wrong ways. I wouldn't think about her again.

Peter woke up a few hours later, puking up the remains of whatever had been in his system, and questioning everything, and shouting for me. When I limped around the corner, he calmed down, shooting up. His strength seemed to come back all at once because his arms went tight around me, lifting me off the ground as he did so. It was an emotional reunion, as he sat with me and Tony as we explained what went down.

Peter wouldn't let go of some part of me for the rest of the flight - save for a few washroom trips. His hand wrapped in mine as we left the plane. Stepping our feet down to freedom.