|Towards the Endgame|

•Chapter 117• Sweet Child of Mine

The drive back felt like hours and hours. Suddenly the distance seemed much bigger than when they left earlier. Bucky's foot did not leave the gas and his hands seemed to be glued to the steering wheel. Natasha called him twenty-three times – twenty-three missed calls – and he never saw it. How did he miss that? He could smack his head with a brick right now and he deserved it. Natasha called and he didn't see it. How could he be this stupid? Every turn Bucky made with the car they were all thrown and tossed around in their seats – even Bucky himself. He went far over the speed limit and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to pay attention or care about those little signs. "To your left, Barnes. To your left!" Peter had to restrain himself from jumping in the driver's seat. His fingers dug into the chair in front of him. Harley watched as his knuckles turned white and his hands trembled. He was sure that he would rip it all apart if he lost control. Surprisingly he hadn't yet. His gaze glued to the road ahead of them and every now and again turned to watch Bucky's hands on the wheel. He wasn't going fast enough. Peter would have strapped himself to a rocket if he could have. Doctor Strange has one of those rings, perhaps he should have kept that. He should've stayed with her. What if something terrible had happened? His gut was telling – no, shouting – that there was something wrong. Twenty-three missed calls. As soon as Peter spotted the trees, he told Bucky to go a little faster. He needs to get to that cabin.

Peter almost kicked in the door with his foot when he rushed up the small steps of the front porch. He grabbed the door handle and pulled harshly, almost pulling the door out of its frame. Harley was about to follow Peter when he halted and glanced over his shoulder. "Barnes?" Bucky shook his head and looked at the front porch as if there was an invisible line he could not cross. "Can't." Harley turned to the man. "It's Y/n. Don't you want to know-" Bucky backed away whilst shaking his head again. "Go." There was no time to waste. Harley went after Peter into the cottage. That's where he found Tony standing beside Bruce Banner with red, puffy, wet eyes. Pepper was hiding her face in her hands. At least she wasn't staring at the wall like she had been doing before he and Peter left. Bruce was filthy. The gloves he wore, the exposed skin of his arms, his shirt, it was all stained with blood and other fluid stains. "That doesn't look good." He said. Bruce was sitting down and apparently hadn't taken his eyes off of his hands. "Y/n, Banner, tell me what happened with her." Peter barked at the man. Bruce finally swallowed the lump in his throat and started to pull off his gloves. But they stuck to his skin and made that little gesture seem impossible. "Y/n's... she's not stable. Far from it. She... she..." He choked on his words. With the palm of his bare hand, he rubbed his eye. "Strange is doing his best. Trying- he's trying to put her in some kind of- some kind of- I don't know. He's using his magic." He pulled off his other glove and held it in his hands. "But she's still breathing, isn't she?" Peter heard the tremble in his own voice. Bruce nodded his head and turned to look up at Natasha and Tony. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't- I had to wait for him." Peter would be forever grateful for that. They came as quickly as they could.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harley asked. Peter felt him getting closer all of a sudden. He didn't mind. It was somewhat comforting to have Harley here and this close. Bruce sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He accidentally smudged his face with two drops of blood that came from the gloves. "If we can't stabilize her soon, no." He choked on his words again. Bruce cleared his throat. "Strange is doing his best, but I can't guarantee anything. I want to, but I can't. I can't-" He paused again, "I did what I could about her lung. But if her heart gives out..." Tony put both of his hands on top of his head feeling more powerless than he has ever felt before in his life. Natasha's eyes were red like his and begging to let go of the tears. She wouldn't allow herself to cry. "There is a chance she might make it. We keep a close eye on her brain activity and the flow of oxygen to her heart and mind. That's working just fine." Bruce continued. "And that's the good news?" Natasha interrupted him quietly. Bruce's first instinct was to reach out his hand and grab hers to give her a gentle and assuring squeeze. But he did not move. He only nodded and hummed quietly. Suddenly he turned his gaze toward Peter and locked their eyes. "The Vulture only made things worse." He said, "All that stress- Strange and I figured that she... It's kind of a miracle that she came out of there alive-" The rest of Bruce's words faded away as Peter's mind went blank. It was as if someone held a pillow over Bruce his head and muffled his noises. Peter took one step back, halted, and then turned around ready to leave. His first thought was to go to Y/n to check on her, to see her again, and tell her that it would be okay. No, he needed to get out of this house. His focus was on Toomes. Peter walked away. He heard a muffled call of his name. He did not know who it was and he didn't suspect anyone.