You're My Safe Place
Time meant nothing in the small, five foot by five foot cell. The plain metal walls closing in on Y/N as they curled up on the floor, nursing their wounds.
A small mistake on a mission had snowballed until catastrophe struck. One ambush later Y/N landed in their current predicament, captured by HYDRA agents and brought to…somewhere. Wherever it was, Y/N wanted out, now.
Y/N leaned back against the cool metal wall, outstretching their legs as much as the room allowed them to. They winced slightly as the bruise on their hip brushed uncomfortably against the ground, sending ripples of pain throughout their battered body. They turned their attention to their stomach, pulling up their shirt to reveal the long gash that was beginning to knit back together.
They grimaced at the sight of the wound, tugging their shirt back down to cover it. The rough fabric of the new uniform only irritated it more.
They closed their eyes and focused, channeling the regenerative energy from within them and bringing it to the surface, directing the flow to the cut. They sighed in relief as the wound began to close, their powers healing it almost instantly.
Exhaustion gripped Y/N immediately after the brief euphoria of their abilities faded, leaving them completely drained.
They collapsed back against the wall, they needed to save their energy for later.
It was only going to get worse from there.
* * * *
“Do you have any idea where they are?” Peter asked Tony desperately, watching as his mentor poured over his monitors.
“I’m trying to triangulate the last message transmitted by them, but obviously it’s not that easy,” Tony explained, staring into the bright, flashing screens. “The triangulation apparatus is being blocked by some signal reflection, most likely intentionally set up in order to prevent us from locating them.”
“You’ll be able to find them, right?” Peter swallowed nervously, looking over Tony’s shoulder at the complicated algorithms displayed on the computers.
“As soon as we’re able to bypass the precautionary measures, yes,” Tony confirmed, eliciting a less than subtle sigh of relief from Peter, “but who knows how long it will take.”
Peter’s eyes widened from the new information, fear churning in his gut as he imagined what horrors Y/N must’ve been experiencing, “h-how long?” he squeaked.
Tony looked up at Peter with tired eyes, “anything from five hours to a year, depending on the complexity.”
“A year?” Peter rasped, his legs growing unbelievably weak as the full weight of Y/N’s capture crashed down on him.
“You alright, kid?” Tony asked, rushing over as he watched Peter almost fall to the ground.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just-I just need to sit down,” he reassured shakily as he stumbled to the nearest chair, letting himself crumple onto the seat.
“Listen, look at me,” Tony knelt down to look Peter in the eye, “we won’t stop until we get Y/N back.”
Peter nodded unsteadily, resting his head in his hands as sobs shook his body. Tears pooled in his palms and spilled onto his lap as loud cries escaped from his lips.
If only he had been faster.
If only he hadn’t made that mistake.
If only he could hold Y/N in his arms and know they were safe. If only he could bury his face into their neck and breathe them in, feel their warmth in his grasp.
If only.
* * * *
The first few days were by far the worst.
Hours of isolation that were only interrupted by the occasional physical exam, in which Y/N was poked, cut, and injected with God knows what. Then they’d be once again exiled to their cell, left to brood in silence.
They lost track of time when they first slept. Their body’s internal clock was completely off, leaving them disoriented and confused. Eventually, days were counted by how many times they were cut open. Each time they were wheeled into another painful surgery, they recorded another day.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
This became unreliable after they began spending countless hours under the knife. Sometimes even waking up in the middle of surgery, screaming behind a gag as they watched masked doctors poke and prod at their insides.
The forced solitude slowly began to take a toll on them. It began small, a whisper of their name, flashes in their periphery vision. They even sought comfort in the sound of another’s voice, even if the source didn’t exist.
It eventually evolved into full force hallucinations. Things appearing and disappearing with no rhyme or reason. It was almost funny, all the strange things they witnessed. They had almost burst out laughing when they hallucinated a tall pile of apples with googly eyes and stick figure limbs that waved around helplessly.
It stopped being funny when they hallucinated Peter.
Y/N had woken up in their cot, blinking from a combination of the endlessly shining light and disbelief. Peter was sitting at the edge of the bed, trying to shake them awake. They sat up, tears welling up in their eyes as they believed their ordeal was over. They pulled him in for a tight embrace, crashing their lips against his in celebration. They could feel his breath against their cheek, taste the soft tang of his lips, it was all so…real.
It wasn’t until he had faded away, dissolving in the light, that the last bit of their hope had evaporated. Disappearing along with the comforting hallucination.
Nothing was real after that. They withdrew into themselves and gave up, resigning to their fate.
Waiting patiently for it to end.
* * * *
The two months that Y/N was captured were one of the most nerve-wracking of Peter’s life.
He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Spending endless hours just laying in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Everything he saw reminded him of them. When he first got the news of their capture, he had overturned nearly everything in his room. Much to the dismay of those living below. He had managed to dig up one of Y/N’s sweaters, and would carry it around with him like a security blanket. He even refused to wash it, not wanting their smell to be washed away.
He didn’t want the small bit of them he had left to disappear.
He was laying in bed, clutching Y/N’s dirty sweater to his chest, when he got the call.
He was tempted to ignore the ringing, preferring to just lay there in silence. That was until he saw the caller ID.
He grabbed his phone and immediately accepted the call. Putting it to his ear he sputtered, “Tony, what–”
“We found Y/N. Get to the compound,” Tony interrupted, hanging up before Peter could say anything else.
Peter stared at his phone, mind running and heart pounding at the possibility of Y/N’s rescue. He had already begun to forget the small things about them, the shape of their hands, the bend of their spine, the smell of their skin and the feeling of their hair between his fingers.
He couldn’t wait to remember.
* * * *
Y/N knew that something was wrong the moment they woke up on the operating table, again. But this time was different.
There were no doctors leaning over them. No one shouting in another language before a suffocating face mask was placed onto them, sending them back into unconsciousness. Nobody.
They tugged against their metal restraints, unable to even lift their head an inch off the table. They let themselves go limp, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off and expose them to the pain of whatever the sadistic doctors had done to them.
The endless screeching of alarms bore into their head, the flashing lights bathing their bare body in red light. They could hear gunshots echoing in the distance, screams of terror and commands being shouted as something came closer and closer.
Y/N grit their teeth, considering the consequences of their actions before they opened their aching jaw and screamed, or tried to. Their voice was rusty from lack of use, their cries for help merely amounting to a feeble whimper.
They coughed loudly, trying to clear their throat. “Help!” they shouted once more, slightly louder. They grimaced as stabbing pains emanated from their chest. Cool air brushed against the exposed skin, causing the wound to sting slightly.
“Help!” They yelled, voice rising in volume. They panted, panic coursing through their veins as they remained undiscovered.
Suddenly, the anesthesia wore off. Y/N’s eyes rolled back as constant waves of pain radiated from their chest. Instinct kicked in and they screamed, a raw screech that would send shivers down the spine of any sane individual.
Their vision clouded as pain took over, pushing them to the edge of oblivion. They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to breathe past the agony through tightly clenched lips.
“Y/N?” a voice whispered. Their eyes flew open, searching the room.
Stupid, they reprimanded themselves, it’s not real.
“Y/N, oh god, Y/N,” the voice sounded panicked, and Y/N could hear the soft sound of someone approaching. Something fumbled with the restraints, managing to unlock the tight metal cuffs.
Y/N rotated their wrists, enjoying the newfound movement. They looked up at their savior and the blood drained from their face.
It was Peter, wearing his Spider-Man getup. He ripped off his mask as he stood above them. Y/N allowed themselves to drink in his features. He looked as handsome as ever. His soft curls silhouetted his angled face, his thin lips were tightly pursed in concern. But something was different. His eyes were sunken in, darkened from nights of little sleep. His skin was ghostly pale, and the flashing red lights certainly didn’t help. But it was Peter, or at least it looked like him.
Y/N smiled weakly, tears sliding down their cheeks as they looked up at the love of their life.
“It’s okay. Y/N, it’s okay,” Peter reassured, voice shaking with held back tears. He cupped their face with his hands, brushing their tears away with his thumbs.
Y/N leaned into his touch, closing their eyes in silent bliss.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” he began to lift Y/N off the table.
“No, no!” Y/N whimpered.
“Sorry!” he apologized, suddenly noticing Y/N’s opened chest cavity, “we need to get this closed, can you heal it?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Y/N took a shuddering breath, “this isn’t real.”
“What?” Peter asked confusedly.
“I’ve-I’ve hallucinated you before. You’re not here. You’re just not,” they smiled weakly, cringing as their wound twinged slightly.
“Y/N no, this is real–” he said pleadingly.
“You said that before,” Y/N interrupted, tears flowing without end, “I thought I was going to be rescued.”
“Please, Y/N please,” Peter begged, grabbing Y/N’s hand and squeezing it tightly, “I promise you, this is real.”
Y/N stared up at him, they nodded reluctantly as they commanded their body to heal itself.
“I’m going to get you someplace safe,” Peter promised.
Y/N grabbed some discarded scrubs and slipped them on, leaning onto Peter for support.
After Y/N had dressed, Peter pulled on his mask and lifted them up into his arms. Running out of the room he shouted into the comms, “I’ve found them, I’m heading to the jet.”
Y/N buried their face into Peter’s neck, murmuring something into the fabric of his suit.
“Hmm?” Peter intoned, swinging through the base.
“You’re my safe place,” Y/N said again, slightly louder.
Peter smiled inside his suit, finally feeling true happiness for the first time in months.
Y/N grinned as well, nuzzling against Peter as they felt some semblance of safety.
Peter was solid.
Peter was warm.
Peter was real.
As they slipped into unconsciousness, they did so with a smile.
* * * *
Y/N woke up in another hospital bed. They sat up, ripping the tubes out of their arms as they looked around in a panic. They swung their legs out from the bed, and were about to run before they were pulled into a tight embrace.
“Shush, it’s me,” Peter said softly, running his hand through their hair.
“I can’t-no-stop,” they rasped, flashing back to every time they were forced into surgery.
“You’re safe, I’m here,” he whispered, rocking Y/N slightly as they sobbed into his shoulder.
“It hurts,” they mumbled, calming down in Peter’s arms.
“I know, I know,” Peter said soothingly.
“Please,” they begged, “stay.”
“Yes, of course,” he reassured them, kissing their forehead gently. He rubbed their back methodically, relaxing them as they leaned into his chest.
They sat like that for hours, Peter gently lulling Y/N to sleep. Eventually, he slowly lay them back onto the bed, lovingly pulling the bed sheets to their chin. Y/N shifted slightly, clutching their knees to their stomach. Peter smiled and smoothed Y/N’s hair back, kissing them on the cheek before sitting back in his chair.
“Love you,” he said quietly.
“Love you too,” Y/N slurred, opening their eyes drowsily.
He smiled slightly and caressed their cheek, “get some sleep, you need it.”
Y/N nodded tiredly, drifting back down almost immediately.
He could hardly believe they were back. He wouldn’t let them be hurt again.
Ever.