Chapter 1
It was just a normal room. A bit plain- with hardly any furnishings aside from the two small beds and a small table in the corner with no chairs. There weren’t any windows but there’s a spot in the wall that looks like it once had a window- but had been covered up. There’s even an en-suite bathroom that had had its door removed so that there would be no privacy.
That quick realization sent a chill down his spine.
The lighting was terrible. Just a single light in the middle of the ceiling - and it was like they’d chosen the worst possible lightbulb in the world to use there. It flickered every now and then as it swung loosely from the ceiling, casting odd shadows across the room. But it functioned enough to allow Fitz to see the entire room. Not that it was that big. Around the same size as a dorm room maybe.
With a little decorating, it would remind him a bit of his old room at SHIELD Academy.
All in all, as far as kidnappings go, this is nothing like how Fitz imagined it would be- or anything like the movies.
He woke up with a searing headache laying on the floor right next to a bed- which was annoying. But at least the floor was carpeted. It took him several minutes to remember what he’d been doing before waking up there. There’s no recollection of actually being taken. Everything is still foggy up in his head and it’s incredibly disconcerting. Especially with his history of brain trauma. It’s difficult not to completely dive straight towards panic when he’s finding it so hard to think straight.
It’s not until he finally pushed himself up off the floor that he realized he wasn’t alone. There’s someone laying in the other bed. They’re still passed out- and Fitz can only assume that whatever they’d done to knock him out they had also done to whoever this guy was. The guy is laying at an awkward angle and its not until he shifts that Fitz noticed just how young the guy is and that he’s handcuffed to the bed.
Fitz squinted at him, his stomach rolling. His own pain and panic momentarily forgotten. Because - because on that bed -He’s just a kid. And he’s cuffedtoabed. What the hell is this place and what do they want with a kid. He can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen at most. Honestly, that’s being generous assuming that he’s even that old, Fitz thinks. He looks more like he could be fourteen. If it were under literally any other circumstances, he would probably laugh about the fact that the kid seemed to have the same fashion sense as him- especially from when he was closer to that age.
All of his foggy thoughts about the room and attempts to remember what got him there are sidetracked- replaced with concern for the actual child in the room. His first attempt to cross the small room over to the kid however is futile. He took a step forward and his legs immediately gave out on him. He hit the floor with a loud curse that made his already roaring headache pulse painfully behind his temple.
The kid shifts again in response to the noise, and that at least is promising. He’s reactive at least. Fitz let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
With a sigh, he shifts and pulls his legs out from underneath him and rubs at the tired muscles. Every inch of his muscles seemed to tingle painfully under his skin. He forgot he’d woken up at an odd angle himself- like he’d been tossed to the ground and left there. He’d been so distracted by the, well, whole kidnapped thing, and the actual kid part of that, that he hadn’t realized his legs were still asleep.
”Woah. Oh my god. Oh wow. Oh- oh wow. Okay. Oh no,” the kid slurred suddenly, waking with a start and rolled over, his free arm flying over his face to cover his eyes. He continued to mutter the same few exclamations over and over as he buried his face in the crook of his elbow.
“The boy lives,” Fitz smiled, despite himself - despite the anxiety still creeping down his spine from the whole situation.
The boy dropped his arm, his eyes going wide, and then immediately shutting his eyes as if the barely there light in the room was too bright. Slowly he turned his head to face Fitz, and somehow made his eyes go even wider when the two of them made eye contact. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then the cuff on his left arm jingled and he frowned instead. “Oh my god.” He repeated, turning to look at the cuff instead.
His right hand pat at his face and felt his hair - which Fitz thought was a little weird- but then again, he had just woken up in a strange room, with a stranger, handcuffed to a bed. So Fitz figured he was allowed to react to it however he damned pleased. “Oh my god. Oh no, no, no. Oh wow. Oh no.” He repeated again, and okay, maybe his lack of anything else coherent was concerning. Was it? God, he didn’t actually know. Jemma would know. He really wished he was there - no, actually, he was really glad she wasn’t there.
“I- I think we covered that,” Fitz said, trying and failing to sound casual. His heart was starting to pick up speed, panic that he had somehow managed to keep at bay due to the shock and confusion he’d been feeling before was quickly starting to seep in. “You uh- you got any other words in there? You hurt?”
The boy blinked rapidly, dropping his arm to his side as he stared up at the ceiling. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Fitz is just about to say something else when he finally answered. “I’m uh- My head hurts. But I - I don’t think I’m hurt.” He whipped his head to the side again, looking directly at Fitz again with more focus this time. “Who are you? You aren’t cuffed,” he noted, eyes dropping to Fitz’s free hands then snapping back up to his face. “Did you bring me here? Where are we?”
The questions all blurred together- almost like one long winded run on sentence, and he was now staring at Fitz as if he’d been the one to put him there. Which was rude but also, a fair assumption, that Fitz hadn’t considered him making and he probably should have. Instantly, he put his arms up, palms out, in a placating manner. “I’m just as trapped as you are - or…” he tailed off, his eyes darting to the door.
He just realized he never actually tried the door. Or even thought about it. When he’d gotten up, he had gone straight towards the kid. “I just woke up here too- here on the floor. I don’t know why you’re cuffed and I’m not. Do- do you remember anythin’ from before? Before you woke up here?” He asked, already moving to stand up again. His legs weren’t all prickly anymore so he felt a bit more confident in his ability to make it to the door.
“Wait!” The kid shouted, his free hand outstretched as he half sat up. Fitz stopped mid step to turn and look at the kid bewildered, who was bright red now despite the set determination to his jaw. “I think someone is out there.”
“Well, someone put us in here, ya?” He scoffed, ignoring the tingle of anxiety that dripped down his spine. It was only a few steps to the door, and he reached out to grab the handle to give it a testing jiggle- ignoring the kid’s repeated warning of “don’t!”
The crackling sound of electricity and the kid’s shout hit his hears before he registered the pain. He yanked his hand from the door and stumbled backwards, nearly falling to the ground again. “What the bloody hell.” He stopped when the back of his knees hit the currently unoccupied bed and collapsed onto it as he started to rub his wounded hand on the scratchy sheets. Meanwhile, the kid was back to his “Woah. Woah- Oh wow, oh my god. Woah.”
“Kid-“
“Wow, okay. It’s Peter,” the kid - Peter - interrupted, continuing without giving Fitz the chance to finish. “I’m sorry. I know I keep saying that but wow. I’ve never been kidnapped before and my head is killing me and I’m cuffed to a bed. And there’s someone watching us, and the door is electrified or something and —“
“Okay, Kid- sorry, Peter. Peter, I need ya to breathe, alright?” Fitz cut in, flexing the hand that was just electrocuted at his side. It’s not like he hadnt experience worse shocks from his own devices a few times, but that was beside the point.
“Are you Scottish? I’ve never met anyone Scottish before,” Peter asked instead, changing the subject. But Fitz did notice him take in a shuddering breath as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position. “There’s Friday. But she has an Irish accent actually, so nevermind. Also, she’s not a person. So that doubly doesn’t count.” He wasn’t looking at Fitz while he rambled. He kept going back and forth between frowning at the handcuff, and darting his eyes around the room frantically.
Fitz couldn’t tell if this was just a nervous tick of his or was just who he was.
“Yeah- born and raised in Scotland. Been in the states since I was 15. Did you know the door was going to shock me?” Peter didn’t respond right away aside from a silent shrug. He still didn’t really look at Fitz much. Now he has his eyes trained on a spot somewhere above the engineer’s head, which has him shifting to look up to see what it was he was staring at.
Just above his head, attached to the wall, was a small hole, with a solid red light. A camera. Someone was watching them. Peter had just said that too, and it had gone right over his head. Another chill ran down Fitz’s spine. This whole kidnapping situation was getting worse by the minute. The more his head cleared, and the longer they sat in there, the more angry Fitz became.
“What are you doin? What do you want from us?” Fitz demanded, standing again so he could attempt to block Peter from view of the camera. The fact that the camera was positioned to have the perfect view of Peter didn’t escape his notice, and only served to fuel his anger. Peter was a kid.
Of course, there wasn’t any response- not that Fitz really had expected one. But his outburst had apparently inspired Peter because he quickly started shouting at the camera too.
“Do you know who I am? I know people. Important people. Important people who won’t be very hap- ha- happy about this,” he stumbled on the word happy. His confidence wavered as something discernible flickered across his face. But he quickly recollected himself. “They- they will find me. It’s best if you just… let us go now. No harm done. Forgive and forget, you know. Just -“
There was an audible click that echoed throughout the room, the sound apparently catching them both off guard because Peter cut himself off at the sound and even flinched.
“We know who you are, Peter Parker. Even if someone were to look for you, they will not find you. Same goes for you Leopold Fitz. Your first meal will be served in an hour.” There was another click and then silence. Behind him, he could hear Peter shuffling around, and when he turned around he was frantically searching himself, panic written all over him.
“Peter?”
“Oh no. Oh no no no. It’s gone. It’s gone. They shouldn’t - that shouldn’t be possible. But it’s - it’s gone. Oh my god. How long was I out!? Oh my god,” he ranted, breathlessly, patting his arms and chest and face again. Fitz was starting to think he was way out of his depth here. More so than normal.
The reality of the situation was starting to sink in. He’d been taken- was trapped - by lord knows who - and he was trapped with a teenager who was also seeming to finally accept their fate and Fitz had no idea how to comfort him let alone himself. He’s never been trapped somewhere without Jemma. Especially nothing like this. But he knew people too. Important people who would be looking for him if he didn’t return. He was sure of it.
Realizing it was probably pointless at this point, but he pat himself down too- anything he’d had on him before aside from the clothes (thankfully) had been taken. Completely stripped of any technology that could have been tracked back to him.
“What’s gone?” He asked, assuming already he meant his phone or something. Mostly, he asked in an attempt to get conversation going again- to maybe calm the boy down.
“My watch. It - it was coded to me,” he explained, turning wide panic stricken eyes to him finally. “I wasn’t lying when I said I know important people. I’m - I’m nobody. But I do know someone important and he’s kind of paranoid by nature. But also a genius. He - he made that watch specifically for situations like this.” The kid let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he wiped his free hand down his face.
”I told him it was stupid. That it wasn’t necessary. And now look,” he gestured wildly with his hands, wincing when he accidentally pulled at his cuff, his eyes darting to the cuff for a moment. “It doesn’t even matter, because they somehow managed to get it off.”
Fitz shot a glare at the camera again, before slowly approaching Peter. “It’s alright. I know people too. They’ll be looking for me. Is it okay if I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the bed. Peter glanced at the space next to him, biting down on his bottom lip as he hesitated before nodding.
“Okay, do you remember what you were doing before you ended up here?” Fitz asked, his eyes on the camera on the opposite wall. So far, aside from the door, it was the only form of tech in the room. It would be tricky to try and hack it or use it to their advantage from its location, but if he thought long enough about it — maybe he could come up with something. He may have to wait to see how they deliver the food…
In the meantime, he’d try to keep up conversation with Peter to help keep the boy calm - and maybe himself too. Then it struck him suddenly that he may know who Peter was talking about. It sounded a lot like the very person that Fitz was intending to meet.
“I was at the Tower - uh…” his eyes darted to the camera too before turning back down to his lap, his fingers tapping anxiously against his drawn up knees. “Stark Industries tower. I uh… I don’t think I ever made it to the elevator though. I remember… seeing something. Feeling something off, and it distracted me, but I don’t remember what it was though.” Peter trailed off with a shrug, sparing a quick glance towards Fitz. “What about you?”
Peter’s answer pretty much confirmed what Fitz had suspected was the identity of his “important person” was a paranoid genius. It also put them both at the same place when they were captured and brought here, so them being there together made a little more sense.
”I’m an engineer, and I had a meeting with Tony Stark, so I was there too. I don’t remember much either though. Everything is a bit foggy,” he frowned, shrugging his shoulders. “Does your head still hurt? My headache is starting to improve a bit.”
Peter whipped his head to the side, his mouth falling open in surprise when he admitted to meeting with Stark too. Something almost like recognition seemed to flicker in his eyes. “Leopold Fitz. I think he told me about you..” he said instead of answering the actual question. “You were going to collaborate on something, and he wanted me to meet you.” Another humorless laugh bubbled past his lips as his eyes flicked back towards the camera and he gave the cuff another jiggle.
“I don’t think this it what he had in mind,” he added, a little louder, talking to the camera this time instead.
Fitz agreed, his interest piqued, unable to ignore the irony of the whole thing.
They spent the next, what Fitz assumed hour, comparing details, trying to remember what happened- to see if they remembered anything similar that led to them ending up there. Similar faces that seemed out of place or suspicious. It was harder for Fitz, because he didn’t actually know anyone that worked at Stark industries unless he counted Maria Hill, and he wasn’t sure if she was still technically employed by Stark.
He was just about to mention Maria, when a loud beeping startled both of them - the bed actually shaking from the way Peter flinched.
“Please return to your own bed for meal time.”
The voice was loud and mechanical, and another beeping followed before a slot in the wall opened up by each bed, allowing just enough space for a tray to be pushed through. The trays were dropped on the beds, then the wall closed back up again as if nothing was ever there in the first place.
A glance over at Peter showed him looking somehow looking even more apprehensive than he already had before. His lips were pressed tightly together as he stared suspiciously at the food.
“You alright there, Pete?” Fitz asked, knowing the answer had to be a resounding no. Nothing about this was okay, and if anything, the way their meals were just delivered just made the whole situation that much darker. Whoever had taken them were a lot smarter than Fitz would have guessed with tech that was on par with his own or Stark’s. It filled his stomach with led, and he didn’t think he’d be able to eat, even if he wanted to.
Tentatively, when Peter didn’t answer, he got up and walked over to the bed he assumed was meant for him, seeing as he wasn’t actually cuffed to one and instead of inspecting the food, he felt the wall where it had come from. There wasn’t even any indents in the wall. It would be incredibly fascinating, if it weren’t also terrifying. What appeared to be just a normal room, was starting to feel anything but.
“I’m not hungry,” Peter spoke up finally, and Fitz turned around just in time to see the kid swipe his foot over to knock the tray off the bed. His jaw was set, with a new determination on his face. “I had plans to eat with literally the richest man alive today. I think I’ll stick with that plan. Do you know what kind of food that man orders? It’s kind of ridiculous,” he shrugged, speaking way too casually for someone in their situation. “Like seriously. But hey, I’ll take that over… whatever that was, any day.”
Fitz leaned over his own tray, examining it with distaste. The kid had a point, it looked… not quite inedible, but nearly. Some sort of mystery meat sandwich, and a juice box. Behind him, Peter was still rambling about Tony Stark’s food, and Fitz really wasn’t sure what his angle was. With them not knowing when they were getting out of there, or how often these psychos planned on feeding them, he was inclined to think they should take their chances on the food.
He was just turning to say as much to Peter, until —
“-like this one time, when he ordered pizza and I thought it was going to be somewhere normal, like Dominos or something, but it was -“ He didn’t get to finish his thought, so Fitz didn’t get to hear where the pizza came from. Another hole opened up in the wall, releasing a dart, hitting Peter square in the neck. It all happened so fast. One minute, Peter was rambling, the next, his eyes went wide as saucers, his hand flying up to yank the dart out as his face screwed up in pain.
Then, the moment Peter dropped his hand, a second dart flew out, and this time, Peter dropped, knocked out all over again.