While There's Still Something Left

The Chapter Everyone Just Yells "Peter" with Varying Levels of Concern

At the realization that there was a bomb somewhere in the room, adrenaline washed over him, pulling Peter from the haze the tranquilizer. This was not good. There were at least what, like, 12 people webbed up throughout the apartment? Not to mention Sergeant Barnes and the Captain. Would it take out the whole building? How was he supposed to get them all out? 

"Peter?"

What should he do? Should he even try to find the bomb? Should he question the Hydra agents, try to figure out if they knew where it was? Should he just pull the alarm and hope that everyone gets out in time?

"Peter, what's going on?"

Peter followed the sound of the beeping, tracing his shaking fingers along the faded wallpaper, pressing his cheek close to the wall, keeping his ear pointed forward to catch the sound. His eyes traced the trajectory for which it seemed to be emanating from and his jaw tensed.

His room. He walked slowly as he could manage with impending doom hanging over his head, making sure he didn't pass it by moving too quickly. He opened the door, pausing in the entryway, and nodded to himself after a moment.

"Okay. Yeah. Definitely louder," he muttered. He walked to the wall where his messy, project covered desk would usually be, pressing his ear directly to the cool drywall.  He could hear it, steady as a heartbeat, but it seemed like it was coming from everywhere. Maybe it was echoing? It was so soft though...

He strained his ears as hard as he could, closing his eyes in concentration. He could hear someone's keys jangling a few doors down, then the door swinging open. There was a tv playing some kid's cartoon Peter didn't recognize next door. The ticking of a stove trying to ignite next door. And the beeping that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Peter pressed his forehead against the wall, his hands flat on either side, his brows furrowed.

"Peter!"

Peter startled, practically leaping when Steve grabbed his shoulder, squeezing tightly. Peter's eyes were so dilated the golden brown was almost completely taken over, the black snuffing out their usual brightness. Peter's overloaded, swimming senses seemed to latch on to that small point of contact, feeling the different amounts of pressure given to his skin by each finger, the warmth building under his touch. It seemed to rein him in a bit, anchoring him back down.

"What is it?" Steve asked more gently this time. The kid's attention was obviously frayed, probably because of the tranq, but he didn't want to yell at him if he didn't have to. "Let us help you."

Peter cursed quietly, his head hanging. His mind was pulled in a dozen different ways. Bomb, bomb, bomb, repeated in his head like a mantra with each beep, and his indecision of how to deal with it was wasting time. Questioning the agents was out, and there was no guarantee he would have enough time to find the bomb. Whatever was going to happen, he couldn't do this on his own.

"We need to pull the fire alarm. It's in the hallway, by the elevator," Peter rasped, finally. Even as the words fell from his mouth, he wondered if it was the right choice, feeling defeated by his indecisiveness. "I-I don't think I can find it."

"Find what?"

Bucky quirked his head in question but Steve's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat.