Chapter Text
It was a bad idea. He knew it. Everybody knows it. Or everybody would have known it before.
He had seen the consequences of what could happen. He had lived them.
He could not go back and change it again. He shouldn’t dwell on the past.
He could however prevent it from happening again.
But he could not let him risk his life.
He needed to protect his friends even if they didn’t know who he was.
Peter inhaled the dusty air of the warehouse. It clings to his lungs like a spiderweb clings to you after passing through it.
He had made his decision even before Bucky Sergeant Barnes (they aren’t friends, not anymore) could think of asking the question.
Peter couldn’t know it, how could he, but at that moment, this decision, this action, this need of him to protect everyone would have graver consequences than he could ever imagine -and he could imagine lots.
Peter exhaled. A cloud of warm air in the cold bliss of winter formed before his mask. He made up his mind, there was no coming back from this.
“Let me come with you.” He said with all confidence he could muster.
Sergeant Barnes looked at the Vigilante and all he could think of was that kid who wasn’t one anymore. The one he lost. The one he failed. The same as the one he probably imagined. The one without a face nor a name.
“I think I’ll need a friend.” Was his response. He couldn’t know that he already had a friend in front of him, how could he?
There is this saying that claims that history is always repeating itself. But does it really or are we just drawing parallels because the human mind cannot comprehend what it doesn’t understand?
What is the point of this story if we already know the end? What is the point of writing, reading something that has already happened?
I’ll tell you. Because the past has passed. And the only way we can honor it is by learning from it.