Song by the smol bean Lin-Manuel Miranda
Featuring Pietro.
_______________
The doors at the hospital slid open as Clint ran in.
"Where is my son?" He asked.
"Mr. Barton, come in. They brought him in a half an hour ago. He lost a lot of blood on the way over." The doctor told him as he led Clint down the white hallway.
"Is he alive?" Clint asked, panic already setting in at the thought of losing his son.
"Yes, but you have to understand, the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm." The doctor explained.
"Can I see him please?" Clint begged.
"I'm doing ev'rything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived-"
"So give him medicine! Your a doctor help him!" They stopped outside a door.
"As I've said Mr. Barton I'm doing everything I can." The doctor stated as he opened the door.
"Pietro!" Clint quickly ran to his son's side.
"Pa." Pietro whispered before coughing up blood. "I did exactly as you said pa, I held my head up high..."
"I know, I know shh." He applied pressure to the wound to slow down the bleeding, the bandage already soaked with blood. "I know, you did everything just right."
"Even as were leaving, I fought. I-I didn't see the bullet coming." Pietro told him.
"I know, I know. Just save your strength and stay alive."
"NO!" A voice cried. Footsteps hit the tiles.
"Y/N." Clint whispered as you ran to Pietro's side, his eyes were closed. "Is he breathing? Is he going to survive this? Who did this Clint? Did you know?" You asked your husband as you clutched Pietro's hand, applying pressure to his wound. Tears slid down your face nonstop.
Pietro's eyes slowly opened.
"Mom, I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me." Pietro tells you.
"My son." You whisper sadly.
"We played piano."
"I taught you piano." You said.
"You would put your hands on mine." He reminisced, smiling.
"You changed the melody every time." You stated. Pietro lightly chuckled.
"I would always change the line."
"Shh, I know, I know."
"I would always change the line."
"I know, I know." You gently smoothed out his hair. "Un deux trois quatre, Cinq six sept huit neuf." You counted in French.
"Un deux trois quatre Cinq six sept huit neuf." Pietro repeated.
"Good." You tell him.
"Un deux trois quatre Cinq six sept huit neuf." The two of you said in unison until Pietro stopped. Your smile faltered.
"Sept, huit, neuf." You repeated waiting for Pietro to repeat it but he didn't. "Sept, huit-" You cut yourself off as realization dawned on you. More tears flooded down your cheeks as you dropped to your knee's screaming in anguish.
________________________
Vote/Comment
