Silence

Twenty-Four

I got home, my anger diffusing a bit. I noticed Sam's car had beat me. I walked inside and tossed my keys on the table. "Hey Pete." Dad greeted, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Just yell at me." I muttered, walking to the fridge and looking for something to drink. "Sam said you walked out." I hummed and found a beer. I grabbed it and popped off the top. Dad reached for it and I evaded his grip. I took a big gulp and hopped up on the counter. "I did." I relented and downed half the drink. "Pete, drinking isn't the answer." I finished it and slid it to the end of the counter. "Never said it was." I slid off the counter. "You have another appointment at four tomorrow. Show up or you're grounded." He called as I started to walk away.

I found myself in the gym, eyeing the silk rope I got for my birthday. I pulled off my shirt and cracked my body. I took a few steps back before running forward and jumping, my hand coming in contact with the rope. I grabbed on and rolled my body into the fabric. I bunched the fabric in my hand and started to swing my body back and forth. I got a swing high enough that when I twisted, half my body lurched into the air and my legs stay tangled. I grabbed onto a ring about ten feet from where the rope was tied. I untangled my legs and started to swing my legs, gaining momentum. I swung and let go of the ring, trying to get contact with the ring another ten feet ahead. Except I didn't make it and I feel twenty feet. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact of the floor. I got it and heard a sickening break in my shoulder.

I groaned loudly and pushed myself up and onto my feet. I looked to where the pain was coming from and found that my left shoulder seemed to have broke in three places. "Fuck." I muttered and left the gym in search of Bruce. "I can't tell you what we talked about Clint. He's messed up, quite a bit but that isn't my right to tell you." I rounded the corner of the kitchen and the two men barely paid attention to me. I reached for the upper cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Friday called Brucey into the kitchen." I jumped onto the counter and waited.

"Tony thi-Pete?" I smiled painfully and handed him the roll of gauze. "So it seems that falling twenty feet will snap my shoulder in three places and I need you to reset it." His eye widened and he turned me. "Oh kid." He put his hand on the back of my left arm. "Okay you're welcome to scream." He shoved up and a half pained, half surprised shout left my mouth. "I thought you were going to warn me!" I yelled through gritted teeth. "You asked for my help." He muttered and a few people ran into the kitchen. He pushed down on my shoulder and I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. "What did you do?" Steve questioned, his face slightly disgusted. "Tried to be an acrob-oh my FUCKING HELL BRUCE!" I shouted when he rammed the bottom of his hand into the side of my shoulder. "All done." He breathed out and I laughed sarcastically. "Peter you're escalating." Sam muttered and I glared at him. "You dismantled your web shooters, then you, without protection, try to indulge in something you've never done. What's next?" I wrapped my shoulder and gritted my teeth when I rolled my tightly wrapped arm. "I don't need you to diagnose me. I'm fine." I growled and pushed myself off the counter.

"You can't pretend you're fine Peter!" Sam shouted and I closed my eyes. "I'm not pretending!" I walked to my room and locked the door. I leaned back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. My mind started to swirl. What did Wade scream when he was being dragged out and why did it terrify everyone? He probably threatened my life, but why would people get upset by that? I have done nothing of importance in this life and all I've done has led to death and pain. And like Wade has said many times before, I'm weak and pathetic. So what if he was mutant, I took on three when fighting Civil War. I wasn't weak back then. Or maybe I was, I destroyed a ferry. I destroyed Tony's plane. I let a building crash down on me. I didn't get the girl.

I had sat up by now. I was struggling to keep my tears at bay, yet it didn't work. "Would you like me to call Sam Mr. Barton?" Friday asked and I shook my head. "I'm fine Friday." I slid into the bathroom and sat down on the floor, my knees up, arms resting on my knees and my head low. My eyes focused on the words carved in my arms. The scars seemed so daunting, seemed to taunt me. I groaned and put my legs down. I reached for the counter, where I found my razor. Tony insisted I needed one, but I don't grow facial hair so I don't know what he was thinking. With a simple squeeze, I broke the plastic around the metal razor. I pulled it out and flipped it over my hand. "Mr. Barton are you ready to shave?" Friday asked and I rolled my eyes. "Friday turn off all cameras and stop stalking me." I snapped and I didn't miss the sound of cameras clicking off.

I pushed my back against the wall and looked at the razor once before shifting my gaze to my arm. "Does this make me weak now Wade?" I growled as I slid the metal across the arm with the word 'mine' carved into it.

I leaned my head against the wall and stared at the bottom of the mirror. "Friday?" I muttered, the energy quickly leaving my body. "Yes?" I shifted my eyes up to the ceiling, as if I were talking directly to her. "What's wrong with me?" I asked, rhetorically I felt. "It seems you're bleeding out at an torrential rate." My head dropped down, though I felt like I wasn't watching it. I let out a breathy laugh when I saw the true damage I had done. "Friday you can call Sam."

Sam
I sat at the table, putting my head in my hands. "Sam?" I lifted my head and a cold chill went down my spine. Everyone was supposed to be asleep. "I'm coming." I stood up and ran down the hall to Peter's bedroom. I tried the knob before I backed up and brought my foot to the side of the door. It popped open and I ran in, going straight to the bathroom. I put my hand over my mouth and slid into the bathroom, putting my fingers to the kid's neck. "I'm not weak. Could someone weak and pathetic do this?" He slurred and I cursed. I ran out into the hallway and banged on Clint's door, then Bucky's and finally Bruce's. One by one they opened and I pointed to Peter's room. "He's dying." I choked out and Bruce pushed past me. Clint put his hands on my face and he looked at me worriedly. "What happened?" Bucky leaned against the wall to Peter's room, waiting for Bruce's help call. "Friday said my name and I knew immediately something had happened. I had to kick in his door." Clint turned his head to see the part of the door I had broke. "He's in the bathroom and there is blood everywhere. An-And there is lots of it. He said 'I'm not weak. Could someone weak and pathetic do this?' He cut all over the carvings, there wasn't a space left for him to not cut."

Peter
Bruce rushed in and dropped to his knees. He grabbed anything he could find and tied them around my arms. "Bucky can you get me some socks from his dresser?" I put my head against the wall again and I finally let myself cry. "I'm not fit to be a hero." I muttered and Bruce lifted his head to look at me. "We all have our hiccups Pete. You're still healing." He tied the long socks around my stomach and picked me up. "I'm going to have to move you to the couch in the common room." He walked us out of the room and Dad rushed to my side. "Is he going to be okay?" Bruce nodded and I lolled my head to look upside down. "Can you go grab me the IV pole, some bags of O Neg and my stitching kit?" Dad ran toward the med lab and Bruce walked me out to the living room. He set me gently on the couch and I reached for a pillow, groaning when my arm burned. I reached for the shirt tied around the cuts and Bruce pulled my hand back. "Sam can you prop his head up with a pillow?" Sam picked up my head and shoved a pillow underneath it. "When you're given the okay to get up and move around, you're not sleeping in your room alone." I hummed and he sat next to my head. "So maybe I am pretending." I mused and Sam lifted an eyebrow, giving me the 'no shit' look. Dad walked in with armfuls of stuff and eyed me carefully. "Pete, I hope you know that I'm not mad. But I also hope you know you're in trouble." I shrugged and Bruce hooked up to IVs to my hand.

Bruce started to stitch up some of the deeper ones. The light in the kitchen switched on and Steve stuck his head around the corner of the living room. "Hey wh-Holy shit kid." He came in and eyed me over. "Need anything?" He asked unamused and I gave Dad a look. "Is too early to say a beer?"