It's a Spider Thing. {Peter Parker and Natasha Romanoff}

{32} floundering like fishes

MUDDLED THOUGHTS ran through Peter's brain as it began to wake up.

The floor beneath his body was hard and cold; he could feel it absorbing the warmth from his fingertips. It made his teeth clatter harder together the longer he laid there.

Cautiously, sensing that there was nobody nearby, he blinked open his eyes.

Across from him there was grungy concrete wall- no window. There were a range of scratches and scuff marks decorating it he noted. Something felt, off, about the place. He squinted his eyes and looked around further, eventually daring to lift his head off from the ground despite the way it made his vision spin for a few minutes. Blurs of vague shapes in dim lighting spun before finally settling down again. He was only able to see thanks to the sharp florescent lights that glared down on him.

A familiar clanging sound made Peter's insides freeze. His body shot upwards into a sitting position while his eyes raked over the room and pain blossomed in various places over his body.

The distinct feeling of terror that he grown accustomed to washed over him, snatching the air from his lungs until his breathing came out strangled. He never thought he'd be back. Natasha had sworn that he would never have to go back and he'd foolishly believed the woman with all his heart. Now he felt stupid and naive in having believed in something that he knew deep down she couldn't ensure. No matter how badly she wanted to- Peter was proof to that as he sat on the floor of a cell.

He did the only thing he could and peered at the familiar walls whilst the overwhelming feeling of fear crept up on him. Peter had never left Hydra behind, not even in his dreams.

And now he was back.

Distant footsteps approached and Peter scuttled back from the door, cringing as his body ached in protest and the stab wound in his shoulder burned at the movement of hauling himself backwards.

"I see you're awake Peter." It was a woman's voice. She was wearing the same pantsuit that she had worn when he'd first met her in the street when she entered his field of vision.

"Do you know who I am? The avengers called me 'Helen'."

What little colour was left in Peter's face that hadn't been claimed by blood loss was drained immediately as he drew in short breaths, cradling his injured shoulder while he stared at the woman, hoping that she would spontaneously combust if he simply glared long enough. Helen smiled serenely at him and settled on the metal bed; it sunk under her weight and the springs squeaked obnoxiously.

"Who did you think it'd be?" She asked, a taunting edge to her words. "Romanoff? Barton? Stark?" Helen scoffed out a laugh that echoed and sent chills down his spine. She tilted her head and leaned closer to him. "Oh honey, they're still floundering likes fishes back at their little tower."

Peter stared blankly at the older woman.

He refused to give her an outward reaction. For almost ten years he had survived under Hydra, he'd learnt how to act around the officials and cry behind closed doors- no matter what the emotion was, it would always result in an unethical experiment or a painful punishment.

The only thing he could do that was in his power, that he could control, was not giving them the satisfaction of hearing him in pain.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice even. Peter looked relaxed despite the burning pain throbbing in his shoulder and the anger boiling within in his blood. He was satisfied when Helen's eyes flashed in annoyance at his control- but he had years of experience over her.

She crossed one leg over the other casually and leaned forwards. "For you to cooperate."

"Why would I do that?" Peter sneered, baring his teeth into a snarl as he spoke, "What's stopping me from killing myself? You wouldn't be able to use me then." He bit out.

Unadulterated loathing shone in his eyes, clear in every line of his face.

It was directed at Hydra and the unnatural ability he possessed. It was targeted at all the pain and grief that those powers had caused him over the years- because despite all the good he had done over the few months of his freedom, it couldn't erase his deep-seated anger that seemed to be woven into his very soul. The death of his parents, the endless experiments, the torture sessions, the countless deaths- if it weren't for the powers, could he have died instead of being forced into a weapon? It was a blissful thought that snuffed out Peter's anger, leaving him tired.

Helen watched his war of emotions with a calculated stare before she smiled again.

"We only lost a few men to capture you, Peter. I'd be willing to lose a few more to grab that Keener boy if we lost our experiment too, i.e., you."

The clear threat made Peter's breath hitch in his chest.

Helen looked gleeful as she saw the fear and defeat suddenly flash across his face- every hero had their weak spot and she'd found the infamous Spiderman's.

Peter Parker would never risk Harley. Or anyone else he loved.

It startled the teen, how quickly that decision came to him. Or maybe he wasn't so surprised by the speed of it, but more the unwavering certainty. Peter knew he would never risk any of the avengers- he'd rather grit his teeth and die on the metal slab they'd strap him to again and again, then force a member of his family to live through it instead.

At least, if he did die, he'd find some kind of peace. Maybe Harley would be there. Or Nat.

"Get some rest Peter darling, big things await tomorrow." Helen announced, the bed creaking as she rose to her feet and left the cell. The door locked behind her, an ominous final sound that made Peter slump forwards as exhaustion swept through him.

The uncontrollable urge to sob rose in his chest.

It only took a few more minutes to ensure that he truly alone before his body was racked by an onslaught of tears that ran unabashedly down his cheeks. Peter choked back the sounds, dropping his head to his knees to muffle the sound while his arms cradled around them in an attempt to stop himself from breaking into pieces- they were the only things holding him together when the lights blinked out. He was left in the dark, along with his thoughts.

The realisation that what Peter had been running from for the past year had finally caught up to him had his chest constricting, making it difficult to take in a single breath. He sobbed harder. 

A/N

Lowkey depressing but what can I say? Pete just lost his whole family and he's back at the place that essentially tortured him. Least they're looking for him? :)

Also it is very short but I needed to bridge the gap and I wanted to explore Peter's pov.

Anywho! Let me know of any spelling mistakes! xoxo.