Locked pt.3

They both visit every day. I make a point to not speak to either of them, but they still come back the next day to talk or just sit there waiting for me to reply. Trouble is, I can't even look at Peter—not even in his direction.

The bruises on his face are still fading. I can see the tinge of blues and yellows in his reflection as I pretend to be occupied with the view. It's obvious he sees through the act, but most days he keeps chatting on about anything and everything.

Except for today, when he sighs and just stares. "I don't blame you for any of it."

"I do." I whisper back, which takes him by surprise. "I'm the one that took the swing—even if I don't remember doing it."

"Because of what they did to you, which again wasn't your fault." I shake my head. "It's the same way with Bucky. We don't blame him for what he did in the past."

"Bucky?" The name feels familiar, even if it's lost under a haze. "Who's Bucky?"

"Sorry, you probably remember him as 'the Winter Soldier,' but his real name's Bucky. He was one of Steve's friends back in the day before Hydra did like what they did to you."

"That's the trouble. I don't even know what they did or most of what I've done. How can I be forgiven or redeemed for that?"

"Maybe we can help with that." Peter shrugs with a soft grin that makes me fall into a pit of hope all over again. "We're working on figuring out what they did and how to undo it."

"As if that's possible." I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands. "Just because the soldier got free doesn't mean I can. I can't let myself think that."

"Just give us a chance."

"Listen to the kid." The soldier, Bucky, adds as he leans in the doorway. "It's not an easy road, but it's possible. We aren't just what they did to us, little one."

I furrow my brows at that. It brings something to the surface. "Wait," my head pounds as I struggle to make sense of it, "why does that sound so familiar?"

"Take a deep breath. It will come back eventually." Bucky says as he takes a step closer. "They really screwed with our heads back then."

There's flashes of memories. Scratchy bed sheets, a grate in the wall, unending exhaustion, and "Bucky." I look at him for any sign of recognition, "We—they kept us in the cells right beside each other. Didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did." He sighs. "It's why I meant what I said. I know you, and you are not what they did to you and who you they wanted you to be."

"But that doesn't mean you know everything I've done, Bucky." I stare him down with every word and ignore the instinct to look away. "I spent years with Major after everything happened. Just because you knew who I was doesn't mean you know who I am."

"But we took down one of the file depots you told us about." Peter interjects, and it's only now I finally look directly at him. It breaks my heart to see those kind eyes rimmed in bruises, his soft smile marred by a split lip. "We have everything they did to you. All the details of Project Olympus."

My whole body screams at the mention of it. I can't recall how many times I heard the name whispered like some forbidden secret. Faded pictures that I can never seem to clear. The name has dictated the entirety of my life.

"I want to see it." I retort, which clearly shocks both of them. "I need to see it—to know what exactly they did to me. Strap me to a chair, put me in chains, I don't care. I just need to know."

"I'll talk to the others." That's all Bucky says about it before leaving as quietly as he came.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Peter asks as I stare at the door.

"Without a doubt." I whisper. "I can't undo what they did if I don't know what was done."

"Okay."

"That's it?" I turn to him. "No argument? No trying to convince me there's another way?"

"No, if you're sure, then all I can do is help."

"Why?" I ask as tears well in my eyes, but Peter doesn't seem to understand. "Why do you care so much? Why are you willing to help me after everything I've done—after I hurt you?"

"Because it wasn't you. That was the Nyx you were forced to be, not the one I've had movie nights and take out with."

"And if I'm not that person?"

Peter just smiles softly like a kid with a secret, "I'm not too worried about it."

Bucky comes by early the next morning with a large box in his hands, and Peter is right behind him with food a soft smile. I tuck my feet under me and ask, "I'm assuming that's the file?"

"It is, but I need you to be sure before I give this to you."

"I am." I look him dead in the eye. "I need to know—no matter how bad it is."

"Okay, but I think someone should be here." Bucky replies as he sets the box on the edge of the bed. "Trust me, it's not gonna be easy."

"I can assure you, I've dealt with a lot worse."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you should deal with it alone." I grit my teeth and nod. There's no way he's going to give me a choice in the matter, so I might as well go along with it. "Okay. Let's do this."

My hands shake as I look at the title scrawled in Russian along the first folder, 'Project Olympus.' I flip it open and begin to read as it details the selection process for candidates. There are pages and pages that detail specific genetic codes, and countless other details. Everything is screaming at me so loudly I feel like I'm drowning in it.

The bed dips beside me and a hand finds mine. "Are you okay?"

"I—Everything that happened to me, everything they put me through was because of a specific set of genes that may me predisposed to enhancement. What a load of crap."

"Got that right." Bucky adds as he grabs a file. "But that's often how it is."

"What are you doing?" I question as Peter grabs a file too. "You really don't have to."

"We know." Peter shrugs and flips it open, "But we want to. I mean, if you do this by yourself, you'll be here for days if not weeks."

"He's right. Plus, this way, we'll also have a better chance of helping you undo whatever they did to your head."

I want to protest, but I'd be stupid to refuse help. "Okay, just let me know if you find anything big."

My chest aches deeper and deeper with every page I read. It feels like someone ripped my heart out when we discover I was one of thirty five children to be a subject of the project, but only one of three that made it to the final stages. "I remember him." I whisper as I look at the picture. "They named him Hades. I think—I think I remember he would always telling me stupid jokes."

"I think so." Bucky adds. "I don't remember much about the other two, but I knew they tried their best to keep the attention off you."

"What do you mean?"

"Like I said, I don't remember much besides you being the smallest, but I think they used to cause trouble so you wouldn't have to fight or get punished." Bucky shakes his head trying to clear the fog. "I was in and out of the ice and getting wiped a lot. So it's fuzzy."

"Wait," Peter calls out as he looks between me and the file in his hands, "Nyx, I think they put you on ice too."

"What?"

"Yeah, look at this." He stares down at the pages in his lap, "It says they were having trouble controlling you without the other two. So they put you in 'holding stasis' until proper restrictions could be developed."

"That helps explain the gaps in my memory." I stare down at the bed sheet as if it can help make everything better, but it doesn't. Not sure anything can, but there's a small comfort knowing the truth.

But knowing does next to nothing when you're reading every detail about what was done—mission details, the physical and psychological torture—all done to you on and off over the span of decades. "I thought I could, but I can't—I can't do this ." I slam my file closed and run to the bathroom.

It feels like with every breath the hope of not being a ticking bomb dies a little more. Those files are just what happened while Hydra was still together and operating. There's nothing about what Major did, and I know he did.

"Nyx?" Peter calls softly from the other side of the door. "I'm not gonna ask you if you're okay because I know you're not. But—um, Bucky thinks he found something that can help you."

"I'm not getting my hopes up yet."

"That's okay." Peter replies, and I can hear him slide down the other side of the door so we're back to back. "I'm going to anyway—for the both of us, and if it helps, I ordered our favorite takeout."

"Do you really think we can do it?" I chew on my lip. "Do you really think I can be something else?"

"Yeah, I do. I think you could be an Avenger given the chance."

"Wouldn't that be something?" I sigh and bite back the tears. "I need you to promise me something though."

"What is it?"

"If it doesn't work, lock me up and forget I exist, please. A life in a cage isn't something I'm scared of, and I need to know everyone is safe."

Peter's silent for a second before he laughs ever so slightly, "You know, that's why I know it's gonna be okay. Because you care so much about everyone else. So yeah, I promise, but only because I'm gonna make sure it works."

I find myself smiling despite the tears and worries that continue. For the life of me, I can't understand what I did to deserve the care and attention for someone like Peter Parker. Maybe it's just the universe or powers that be trying to make up for everything I was put through. Yet somehow, it still feels like that wouldn't be enough.

"So, what movie do you wanna watch tonight?" Peter asks after a long moment of silence.

"How about the—um—the space wars one?"

I can hear him biting back a chuckle, but I don't quite understand why. "You mean Star Wars? We can definitely watch that."

"Sorry, Star Wars. I always call it the wrong thing."

"It's okay. I think it's cute."

I crack the door open and smile at him. "It's cute or I'm cute."

"Both. Both is good." He replies with a matching smile. "Do you wanna set up the movie while I see if the food's here yet?"

"Yeah." I reply and quickly rush forward to wrap him in a brief hug. The simple action makes my cheeks burn as I turn away to clear the files and boxes off the bed.

I'm pretty sure Peter opens his mouth to say something before he thinks better of it and leaves to get the food. It feels strange, to be happy after everything, to see everything that was done to me neatly filed away, and to know that I might finally be close to freedom from everything that's in them.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I can actually set it all aside and just live.

Peter comes back shortly after I get the laptop and movie all set up. He smiles with the food and drinks in his hand. It's that beaming contagious smile that makes my chest feel all weird and palms all sweaty. I swear, I don't know what this boy is doing to me, but I can't quit smiling as we watch the movie, squished together on the bed so we can both see the screen clearly.

As the movie continues, I keep catching Peter glancing at me when he thinks I won't notice. That is until I catch him mid stare. "What? Do I have something on my face or something?" I question as my shoulders hunch.

"No! No." Peter shouts with wide eyes. "Sorry. No, you don't."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"It's definitely not nothing. You're body language is making that pretty clear." He raises an eyebrow at that. "Or did you forget I was trained to be an assassin and spy?"

"Actually, I do forget sometime." He laughs, and I give him a look. "It's just—you're really pretty."

"Oh." I mumble as I wipe my now insanely sweaty palms against my pants.

"Sorry. I probably just made this really awkward. It's just you're really pretty and nice and so cool, and it's like everything you do makes me like you even more."

"You like me?" Peter's eyes widen at the confession and timidly nods. "Why? You don't know my real name. Heck, I don't even know my real name. Why would you like someone you don't even know?"

"Because I do know you." He retorts. "I know you're one of the kindest people I've ever met. You care so much about other people, you're willing to give up your whole life to keep others safe. I know you love Star Wars even if you always mess up the name because this is the one movie you always want to watch. Trust me, Nyx, I could keep going."

"I still don't get it. I've hurt people. I've hurt you. How can you still like me after all that?"

"Because that's not you." He whispers as his hand cups my cheek. A tears slips down my cheek again. "Hey, what's wrong. Why are you crying?"

"Because, nobodies ever seen me that way, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe and happy and—and—ugh, I don't the word for it."

"Loved?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah, I guess that's it. I feel loved." I smile up at him.

There's this moment that passes between us. I swear it's like we're magnets. All I know is that something seems to be pulling me closer to Peter, who's eyes keep flickering from my eyes to my lips. "Can I—can I kiss you?" I nod, not trusting myself to actually speak.

His lips quirk into a soft smile as we both close the distance, and I swear my heart is trying to be a jackhammer to get out of my chest as our lips barely brush.

I don't know what exactly happens, but I impatiently close the distance. My head spins around like a top, and even though it's brief, I can barely catch my breath.

"So, that's what kissing's like, huh?" I ask, still in a daze, which makes Peter laugh. "What? I didn't exactly have a normal teenage experience up until now."

"Yeah, but even this isn't quite normal."

"Oh, shut up." I laugh and pull him in for another kiss.

"Oh, um," someone mumbles from the doorway, which makes Peter and I quickly pull apart to see Bucky awkwardly shifting on his feet, "sorry. I should've knocked."

I have to bite back a nervous laugh. "So, um, anyway, what's up?"

"Well, I called some old friends, and I think I know how to find out what they did and how to fix it." He looks between Peter and I, and his awkward demeanor melts away as a sarcastic grin emerges on his face. "But we'll start in the morning. You two enjoy your night—just not too much."

I furrow my brow and look between him and Peter. "Whats that supposed to mean?"

Bucky just laughs and shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, little one. I'll see you in the morning."