If They Knew All About You

Time To Take a Shot

His breathing echoed in his own ears, fast and shallow. The world around him seemed so detached.

"Peter." It was like the man was speaking through a think mist, his voice somewhat muffled to Peter's ears. "Drop the gun, Peter. Come on, it's over."

His hands were numb as he looked up at what truly turned out to be Hawkeye. He hadn't imagined it then. No, that face, that scowl, eyebrows knotted closely together. It was him. The man was only a few steps away.

"Peter. Drop the gun. Please"

The gun. Peter's eyes shot back to his trembling hand that held the gun still pointed at where the Soldier had fallen. His mouth was dry, panting, and now that he saw the weapon in his hand, his arm was getting heavy. It was so quiet around them. Or maybe that was just his shock, shutting out all the noise.

He had shot someone. The vibrations of the recoil still seemed to be vibrating in his very bones. He had tried to be faster, to get there before the Soldier would overpower Rogers.

He had to stop the man. The assassin. If... if he didn't... if he managed to kill Rogers then Peter might die. Like Mr. Stark's parents. His... his own...

Deep breaths. His brain was spiraling. He had no other choice. When he had rounded the corner of the alley, he had found them in the middle of the street, Barnes on top of Rogers. Captain America pinned to the floor by his friend. There was blood on the asphalt were Rogers' head lay. His arms that had first hit so strongly were so much less effective now. They only swatted at the Soldier's body, his legs twisting underneath him not finding purchase on the street, unable to get out from under. He was losing.

Peter had screamed at them, desperate to get the Soldier's attention on himself, to provide the Captain with a window of opportunity, but he couldn't push himself to do more than that, not at first. Had been frozen in fear, the Soldier's hands around the Captain's throat were lodged so tightly, not just his metal hand, his human hand as well. The same hand that had held Peter up by his throat, had almost choked the life out of him only minutes earlier. The same hand that had strangled Maria Stark as well.

As Rogers' attempts to free himself got weaker and weaker, his legs stopping to move altogether, Peter forced himself out of his fear. He couldn't stand by and watch it happen. Being able to do the things that he could, when you didn't and then the bad things would happen... If he did nothing this would be on him.

Shaky legs made him advance. He put both his hands on the man, first pulling at his shirt to get him off balance, which did nothing but make the fabric tear. He could just about dodge the Soldier's elbow that was aimed at his stomach, then again at his face. Glimpses of the Captain only heightened Peter's anxiety. The man's eyes were unfocused, hands clawing at the Soldier's around his neck. Peter reached around him, put his own hands on the Soldier's arms, trying to pull but his left arm was useless. He scrambled back as one of the Soldier's hands left Roger's throat and swung a punch at Peter instead. It only hit his shoulder but hard enough for him to fall back. As he skidded across the hard asphalt, just for a moment he stayed down, trying to collect himself. He had no mask. They were out in the open. With only one of his arms working there was no way he could overpower him. There was no way he could stop this.

Despair was weighing him down, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood on his arm. From where the Soldier had shot—

He scrambled to his feet and limped towards the alley where he had made an exit from his apartment. Desperately he sifted through the debris that had fallen out of his apartment along with the Super Soldiers until he found it.

A shaking hand around the gun, Peter stepped back out onto the street, the Soldier's own weapon in hand that he had flung from the apartment. He didn't know what to aim for, didn't know how to do this. His finger curled around the trigger, aiming the barrel up in the air. His arm vibrated from the recoil. He had hoped the sound would startle the Soldier, but someone like him didn't distract so easily. If anything his hands closed around the Captain's throat a little tighter. It was no good. A split second later, his arm still shaking from the first shot, he pulled the trigger again.