Chapter 11
“Bruce, the gash in his stomach. We need to stop the bleeding,” Nebula ordered in a stiff voice. Her hands were tearing open the leg of Peter’s pants and trying to get at the green and black wound on his leg. The wound went down to the bone – Nebula winced – and as she took off more and more of the pant leg, she could see the black and green colors twisting up his veins and overtaking his leg. The infection threatened to spread to his midsection. She couldn’t let it get that far. She utilized the technology on the ship to attempt to at least stabilize the wound – she didn’t have the time nor tools necessary to run a diagnostic on whatever poison flooded his veins.
“Hold on, Peter. We’re not giving up on you,” Bruce said through gritted teeth.
From the edge of the medbay, Bucky, Cap, Clint, and Groot watched in horror. Bucky had to turn his head in parts. His brainwashing was gone, but the trauma he’d endured through his years of the Winter Soldier remained. You’re not a monster anymore, Bucky. Be present for the kid he reminded himself.
The cockpit of the ship was buzzing with activity. Rocket, still piloting the ship, was shouting orders and directions to Quill, still manning the guns, and Nat, who had been forced to take Nebula’s position as navigator. Her hands quickly tapped the screen, and she pushed past the feelings of unfamiliarity and discomfort to help the raccoon.
“Rocket, we need to veer left at the next jump point. It’ll give us a better chance of eluding the Authority’s pursuit,” Nat said, concentrating on everything she could gather from the screen.
“What about Thor and the rest of ‘em?” Quill asked, blasting through another ship with well-timed, precise strikes from the guns. Nat cocked her head.
“Let’s just hope they get back on deck in time.” She reached her hand up to the comm attached to her ears. “Hear that, boys? Time to get back to the ship. We are headed for the first jump point.”
“Affirmative,” Sam quickly responDed. Thor didn’t answer, and Tony tried to but was drowned out by the sound of a squealing, injured ship that hurtled past Iron Man just as he tried to talk.
“Anyone who can, buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” Rocket warned over the comms. Nebula’s hoarse voice quickly responded.
“You need to keep it as smooth as possible. We’re trying to work back here.”
“Can’t save the kid if we all explode, Neb,” Rocket quickly retorted as he deftly maneuvered the ship through lightning and battleships. Nat glanced at the monitor displaying the ongoing battle outside. Thor, Sam, and Tony fought valiantly against the swarming Authority forces, defending the ship with every ounce of their strength even as they retreated back. Up ahead, Nat could see the yellow outline of the jump point. Hurry up, guys, she thought to herself. She didn’t want to go through this again to save them if they didn’t make it to the ship in time.
Back in the medbay, Nebula had quickly ordered Groot to secure Peter to the table. Not wanting to anger the woman, he’d curled himself around the base of the table and secured tendrils of wood around Peter’s forehead, wrists, and ankles to make sure the kid didn’t get thrown about during the daring escape. Nebula was beginning to grow frustrated, but it was only her fear manifesting. She didn’t know how else to show fear, so she simply resorted to getting angry.
“We need to seal off the blood poisoning before it spreads any further. Pass me the bio-filter, Bruce,” Nebula said, pointing to a green filter on the tray of medical supplies next to the table.
“Careful. It’s the only one we have,” Bruce said as he passed it over to Nebula.
“We have to neutralize whatever is causing the infection before it causes something we can’t fix. His immune system and healing factor already seems to be compromised,” Nebula noted.
“I know. We can’t afford any mistakes,” Bruce responded, continuing to work on Peter’s abdomen. He was used to being able to be a bit rougher with the kid’s body – he was hardy, and his healing factor healed pretty much anything the Avengers’ foes threw at him. However, his skin felt delicate now, and there was something different. Bruce had to be much more careful.
As Nebula stabbed the bio filter just above the tops of the green and black tendrils, Peter didn’t even flinch. At the beginning, Nebula had secured an oxygen mask onto the kid’s blue lips, but she didn’t have time to feed any sedatives into his system. It seemed they didn’t need to; he didn’t even flinch when the thick, deep needles of the filter stabbed into his flesh. The filter began to read on the screen next to the table, and Bruce glanced up.
“We need to adjust the frequency. It might be able to break down the toxins it’s filtering more effectively,” Bruce told her.
“Good call. Let’s recalibrate and try again. Peter… I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”
Without time to spare and try to make things more comfortable for the kid, Nebula tore the filter out of the top of his thigh. The needles dripped with dark blood. She tapped a few settings on the tool to try to recalibrate it for a higher rate of filtration, and with a wince, stabbed the needle a little higher this time. “It’s still off,” Bruce told her.
“Great Galactus!” Nebula cursed through gritted teeth. She had to recalibrate the tool three times – each time tearing the long needles out of Peter’s thigh and repuncturing in a different spot. Every time, Bruce re-sealed the holes with the limited amount of flesh-fabricator Dr. Cho was able to provide them, and then continued to use a combination of the flesh-fabricator and sutures to close Peter’s torso. “Just keep going, Neb,” Bruce encouraged. “Oh, fuck!” Bruce cursed. “There’s a tracker in his arm, I think – look at this bump right here.” Bruce’s finger traced over a protrusion from Peter’s skin – a light shot out from Nebula’s head and scanned Peter’s forearm, eyes glowing for a moment before she nodded.
“You need to cut that out before we hit the jump point, or they’ll be able to track us,” Nebula said as she fiddled with the filter. As the tension mounted, Nebula’s cybernetic hands moved deftly, guided by precision and at this point, pure emotion. She refused to let anything she’d done in the past define her, pouring every ounce of focus into saving Peter’s life. “We’ve come too far to lose you now, kid,” she whispered, making sure nobody else save for Bruce could hear her sentiments.
Bruce had grabbed a nearby knife and grimaced, apologizing profusely to Peter in his head, before carving into Peter’s arm and cutting a circle around the small bump in his arm. Much to his dismay, the kid didn’t even budge at what should’ve been something absolutely excruciating. Bruce continued to carve a circle around the tracker – there. He took the point of the knife and popped the circular piece of flesh out, the tracker embedded within. Taking one glance at Steve, he tossed the tracker to the supersoldier. “Get rid of it!”
Steve nodded.
Back in the cockpit, the crew was in their final stretch towards the last jump point. Nat simultaneously helped direct Rocket while watching the monitor – Thor, Falcon, and Iron Man raced after the ship, trying to get back inside of the airlock before they hit the jump. “Come on,” Nat whispered, her leg bouncing up and down in uncontrollable anxiety.
“Three seconds to the jump point,” Rocket said, taking the ship into a barrel roll as a ship beside them exploded from Peter’s precise shot.
“Two seconds to the jump point.”
A bead of sweat dropped down from Nat’s brow.
“One second to the jump point.”
“We’re on,” Tony’s exhausted voice announced on the comms. Tony stared at Steve with a strange look on his face just as Steve heaved his arm back and hurled a small red object out of the airlock of the ship. Just as Steve threw the object, Rocket catapulted the ship through the first jump point. He hadn’t discussed the rest of his plan with the crew, but he figured it was for the better.
He didn’t want to hear them gripe. Better to ask for permission than forgiveness, right? Rocket thought to himself.
Rocket launched the ship through twenty-three consecutive jump points. Their faces began to contort and bend as their bodies were but under stress they’d never been under before; Nat could feel her blood freezing up and twisting and her organs in all sorts of places they never could be – they all began to scream in unison over the intercoms but none of the others actually registered in her ears, she was going to die, be torn apart in space-
And as soon as it started, the ship exited the last jump point with a terrifying shudder and a groan. Slumping over to catch her breath, on the verge of passing out, she could hear Rocket and Quill cheer. “Team, we are out of Authority space, and we are way too far away for them to track us. Congratulations on being the first strike team to ever do what we just did.”
Back in the medbay, Nebula stood up from where she’d fallen over during the chaotic jumps – she was going to strangle Rocket later for not warning her. She was grateful that she’d gotten the chance to curl her entire body around the filter. As she stood and looked at the filter in her hand, she closed her eyes and thanked whoever was listening for allowing the delicate tool to be okay. Leaning back over Peter as Bruce regained his senses, she ignored the others who weren’t familiar with space and discussed what-the-hell just happened.
Nebula took a deep breath with the final calibration they’d done before the disturbance, steadying herself amidst the chaos. With renewed determination she continued the delicate procedure, each movement inching them closer to Peter’s recovery.
“I- I think it’s working!” Bruce excitedly exclaimed. “The toxins are stabilizing. They’re not receding, but they’re not advancing in his bloodstream. We’re stabilizing him.”
Nebula sighed and slumped against the table, letting go of the tool. One of Groot’s branches caught her and prevented her from falling to the ground entirely. Bruce finished up sewing Peter’s torso – it was a patchjob at best, but Peter was stabilized. As long as there wasn’t some glaring issue they couldn’t see, Bruce figured that he at least had enough time to get to Cho – and Cho could fix pretty much anything. The scanners told them that he had some pretty glaring and pressing internal issues, but neither Nebula nor Bruce were prepped for surgery on a shaky, moving ship. All they could do was stabilize him with the technology they had until they got back. He quickly sutured up the gash on Peter’s arm before slumping against the table just like Nebula.
In the back of the medbay, Tony, fully-suited and skidding to a stop, felt faint when his eyes landed on the kid.
There was snow everywhere – he couldn’t see anything. Spinning around in a panic, he felt like he could barely move, like there was a pool of gelatin surrounding him and he was forever cursed to move like this. The blizzard raged around him, shadows dancing at the edges, shadows of his worst fears, his mortal enemies.
He was missing something. He shouted out and called for it, chased after it. Its outline was so close, yet so far, just out of reach. He lunged forward, grasped his hands, tried to shoot webs, but it was to no avail; the thing he was missing was just out of reach. “Come back!” He wailed. The sound of the storm ate up his voice. He left his leg ever so slowly and trudged through the snow – he just so desperately needed to get it back. “Please, come back!”
Normally, Tony might’ve collapsed. His heart was particularly weak, considering everything it had been through. Other times, Tony might’ve turned around to burn whatever had hurt the kid to bits. As a plethora of emotions coursed through his veins, Tony’s knees felt weak, and he felt his arms and hands trembling at his side. They’d saved the kid, but was he really saved? The monitor showed his heart beating. Not well, and not in a healthily manner, but it was beating.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Tony turned to see the unmasked face of Steve Rogers. His best friend. His worst enemy. His eyes stared into Steve’s steely eyes. “Tony. He needs you right now.”
Tony’s knees felt weak. He trembled. He highly considered vomiting the contents of his empty stomach – so, stomach acid – up, but he couldn’t because Steve was right.
Peter needed him right now.
Slowly, as if he was walking through jello, Tony walked up to the side of the table. There was an oxygen mask over Peter’s face. He was breathing shallowly – there was a mixture of blood and foam coming from the kid’s mouth. Bruce was next to him, ready to be a pillar of strength for Tony should he need it. Tony might, considering everything in front of him.
The kid’s jacket and shirt were torn in half. A crude line separated his torso – Tony recognized the work of Bruce in trying to patch it up with a combination of stitches and Dr. Cho’s technology – the gash was far too large and severe to use just one technique, and even then, Tony could see the skin just barely holding on, ready to burst back open at any moment. Blood was smeared all across the kid’s torso.
The bottom of Peter’s feet were the worst of it. The soles of the boots he had on were burned so deeply into the skin, Tony wasn’t sure if they’d even be able to get it out. It was melded and intertwined with the skin itself. Surrounding the skin and leather combination like a twisted Picasso painting were large, popped blisters oozing pus and blood. The skin underneath was too raw and too young for the world, bright red and no doubt screaming with pain. Peter’s hands fared a similar fate – burns covered the entirety of his hands up to the upper part of his wrists – blisters popped far too early revealed newborn skin and blood and pus and red – Tony held a fist to his mouth. He swallowed back vomit.
He saw Pete’s leg.
Currently, there was a green medical tool sticking out of the top of it. It pulsated every few seconds; Tony wasn’t sure what it did. His eyes trailed down Peter’s exposed leg. Just above the knee, there was a deep, large hole with about a three-inch diameter all the way down to the bone. The wound was trickling out very small amounts of blood, but the wound seemed to be old – the skin on the edges was crusted, scabs were forming, there was dried, crusted blood all throughout the hole. Tony’s face paled when he saw bone. Even worse, surrounding the hole was an awful, unnatural, sickly green and black color. In all of Tony’s crime fighting days, he’d never seen anything like it. Tendrils of green and black reached up Peter’s leg, going far up into his thigh – whatever he’d been stabbed with caused an infection just as alien as everything else on Sakaar. The only thing between the infection and the rest of Peter’s body was whatever Nebula and Bruce had put into the kid’s leg.
Tony’s eyes continued to scan Pete’s body.
His entire body was a faint lavender hue, though he heard Bruce reassuring him that it was already better than it was when he’d first gotten here. That wasn’t reassuring to Tony, though, because it just meant Peter had hypothermia more severe than any human could handle. Underneath the blood and foam, Peter’s lips were bright blue. His eyes were swollen shut, blood oozing past the crust that glued them close. He continued to scan Peter’s body in silent horror until he felt a hand pull him backwards. Bruce placed a skin-patch over the giant hole in the kid’s leg to prevent anything else from getting in it; Nebula draped a blanket over the kid’s body, leaving only his head uncovered.
Something was making noise.
He couldn’t really hear it over the ringing in his ears – or could he?
No, somebody was saying his name.
Was somebody trying to get his attention?
“Tony.”
Tony turned, suddenly numb to all emotions.
“Tony, sit here. Take your suit off.” A warm voice was gently pushing Tony down into a chair. Someone else pressed Tony’s glowing chest and his nanotech retreated away, leaving Tony in the black sweatsuit he’d come dressed in. The chair was right next to Pete. They weren’t making him leave Peter.
Nobody could make him leave his side. Not anymore.
People kept trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear them. He didn’t care. He wanted to hold Peter’s hand, but he couldn’t even do that. Instead, he numbly stared at the side of the bed, wondering where he went wrong.
Behind Tony, Nat and Bruce glanced at one another. “Is he going to be alright?” Clint asked. Nat bit her lip.
“Tony, or Peter?”
“...both, I guess.”
“Peter is stable for now. Not for long. We have to get him back to Earth,” Bruce said. His voice was strained with concern and with fatigue.
“As for Tony…” Nat’s voice trailed off. She honestly didn’t know what to say. Tony had been through a lot. He was actively working through PTSD and a slew of other disorders, Nat knew that much, but for the most part, the billionaire seemed to keep it relatively contained. When it came to the kid, though, all bets were off. So, she didn’t answer Clint, simply because she didn’t have an answer to give him.
An hour passed.
The trip home was much more somber than the trip to the mission had been. There were no cards, no games, no laughter, no joking. They saved Peter, but they were reminded of what they weren’t able to save. Twenty-three more kids dead. The team knew they shouldn’t blame themselves, but it was a natural feeling that they had to feel. Thor especially. If he’d just gotten to Earth sooner…
Tony remained motionless and numb. He’d been staring at the kid without moving for an hour straight. Nebula, Bruce, Nat, Clint, and Rocket hung around the edge of the medbay, scattered about on the floor and in chairs they’d dragged into here. They spoke in low voices so as to not upset Tony.
“How is this kid even alive?” Rocket murmured. He’d seen some pretty gnarly injuries, but he hadn’t seen anything like this happen to someone and they were still breathing.
“He has an enhanced healing factor. Where your broken bones may take months to heal, his only take days,” Bruce explained. At the mention of Peter, something awoke in Tony. Everyone was surprised to see him jerk his head around and move for the first time in an hour. Everyone watched him expectantly.
“You know what? I’ve been wracking my god-damned genius brain over that very issue. The factor’s stretched so thin it’s practically transparent, thanks to all these damn injuries and the lovely side effect of turning into a fucking human popsicle. And this infection? It’s like some sick fucking cosmic prank gone wrong, some toxin or bioweapon that’s decided to make Peter its playground. I don’t know, it’s like the universe has some fucking grudge against us. Not my area of expertise. Cho can deal with it.” Tony’s voice was hoarse, and it was obvious he was straining to keep the tears deep down where nobody could see him. He buried his head in his hands. Nobody said anything. What was there to say?
An hour later, Peter stirred. Everyone in the medbay, who were in varying levels of consciousness, immediately jumped up at the sound of his breath catching in his throat. The beeping from the various monitors made it obvious that his consciousness was flickering back to life. Tony took a step forward, and everyone else rushed forward towards the table. If Peter was waking up, there was a chance his healing factor was working and he was getting better. Tony reached out and put a hand on Pete’s shoulder.
“GET OFF ME!” Peter weakly screamed. His fingers scrabbled at the oxygen mask, and he tore it off of his face, snapping the tube in half. Fresh oxygen began to spurt from the tube as the mask clanged to the floor. Peter’s limbs, no longer held down by the tree who had been gone from the medbay since Peter was stabilized, flailed about wildly, trying to connect with anyone nearby. Peter’s fist caught the side of Tony’s face and Tony stumbled backwards, his ear ringing from the force of the superpowered kid’s punch. “Can’t… Can’t stay here!”
“Easy, kid! We’re just trying to help you! Calm down!” Clint said, being the first to reach the table. He grabbed one of Peter’s wrists to try to hold the kid down, but Peter was too strong. His movements were erratic and too-quick for how he should’ve been able to move in this state. His movements were fueled by a mixture of confusion and the sheer will to escape. In his delirious state, he managed to bring his other fist around and land a blow on the side of Clint’s head. Clint immediately crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The room erupted in a flurry of activity as everyone rushed to restrain Peter and prevent further harm. Hearing the commotion from nearby, Bucky and Groot raced into the room. Nebula and Bruce were among the first to try to restrain the kid. “Watch out! He’s not himself!” Nat shouted over the commotion. Peter was still wildly flailing about and screaming. Nebula didn’t hear the warning in time. Bruce stepped back, and Peter gripped Nebula’s arm. She groaned as his iron grip clenched her shoulder and wrenched it sideways. With the sound of screeching metal and a pop, Nebula’s arm was bent at an unnatural angle. She glared down at her arm in shock before one of Peter’s feet connected with her chest and sent her flying against the wall.
“Grab his arms!” Bucky shouted to the tree. “We need to hold him down!” Bucky and Groot worked their way to the table while Rocket perched himself up on Bruce’s shoulder.
“Just hold on, you idiot! We’re trying to save your sorry ass!” The raccoon shouted.
With combined effort, Groot and Bucky swiftly moved in, their strength and agility proving invaluable as they began to pin Peter down. Bucky leaned on Peter’s arms, straining and gritting his teeth as the strong kid pushed back with all his might. Groot’s arms quickly wrapped around Peter’s legs, binding them to the table. But even in his weakened state, Peter fought back, his instincts driving him to resist the help being offered.
“Let. me. Go! I have to… have to…” Peter cried.
“We can’t reason with him like this,” Bruce said, shaking his head. He grabbed a needle from one of the shelves of supplies and quickly shed the wrapper from the tip of the needle. The room fell into a tense silence. Everyone held their positions, Bucky continuing to grunt and strain from the full strength of Peter fighting back. Bruce approached Peter cautiously, trying to calm him down. “Peter, listen to me. We’re here to help. Just hold on a little longer.”
With a singular swift movement, Bruce administered the sedative. For a fleeting moment when Peter first felt the needle enter his skin, he let out a piercing shriek. It wasn't a cry of pain, though. It was a cry of terror.
The medication took effect almost immediately. As soon as it had begun, Peter’s cry of terror stopped. Gradually, Peter’s struggles ceased, his body relaxing as the sedative took hold. Nobody wanted to move. For a few moments, everyone stared in shock at the kid.
Then, Nat moved, causing a chain reaction. She moved to help Tony up off the ground. He was clutching his left eye; the kid had just nicked it, but he nicked it hard, and it throbbed. Nebula stood up from where she’d been thrown into the wall. With a sickening crack, she grabbed her arm and wrenched the metal tendons back into place. Twisting her neck and shrugging her shoulders, everything popped back into place. She moved forward and knelt down next to Clint. A large purple spot had already sprouted on his temple. From her head, a light scanned Clint’s face. She stood up and looked at everyone. “He’ll have a nasty concussion, and it might’ve affected his eardrum on the right side of his head. We won’t be able to tell until we get back to Earth.” She glanced down at Clint. Bucky, still sweating from the short fight with Peter, lifted Clint off of the ground and over his shoulder. He grimaced at the sight of the unconscious kid. Bruce moved to fix the oxygen mask and put it back onto him, while Bucky carried Clint out to have him rest in a different area.
With Peter subdued, the team regrouped, shifting their focus to the task at hand: getting back to Earth as soon as possible. Tony sat a little further from Peter, only to protect himself, and Groot remained stationed next to Tony the entire time. Tendrils snaked around Peter, holding him down to the table. Someone brought a cold-pack to Tony and pressed it against his eye. He almost didn’t want to. The pain felt good, a stark reminder of the kid’s life.
Nat sat next to him now. Everyone else left the medbay, deciding to give both Tony and Peter some much-needed space. “He’s going to be okay, Tones,” Nat said. She tried to remain confident in her voice, but deep down, she didn’t even know if she was speaking what she truly believed.
“He better be. He has to be, Nat. He has to be, or this is on me.” Tony’s voice was wavering.
“He’ll snap out of it.”
Tony looked at the floor, and Nat turned to face him when she heard a chuckle escape from Tony’s lips. “You know, when I brought him onto the team, I thought you would all hate me. Thought you’d think it’s dumb for bringing a kid on, thought you’d all leave… it’s funny. Now you’re all more worried about him than me.”
Nat smiled softly. “Of course we love him. For the record, we did think you were dumb. I still do. But…” she looked back at Peter. “We wouldn’t be the same without him.”
Tony let out a genuine laugh, a mix of relief and gratitude. He looked at Nat, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Dumb, huh? Yea, I guess that’s one way to put it. But you’re right. We wouldn’t be the same without him. The kid…” Tony looked back to Peter, cold-bag still pressed against his eye. “He brings something to this team.”
“Something we didn’t even know we needed,” Nat added, nodding and shifting her gaze to Peter. She reached her hand out and placed it on Tony’s arm in a comforting gesture.
“I know you blame yourself. It’s in your nature. But Peter is a fighter, just like you. He’s got that same Stark bull-headed stubbornness and determination. We’ll get him through this.”
Tony sighed in resignation. He glanced at Nat, his eyes reflecting a blend of gratitude and vulnerability.
“I hope you’re right, Nat. I really do.”
“We’re a family. We’ll do whatever it takes to protect our own.”