Too Soon For That

Med Bay

Peter

Peter was not prepared in the slightest for what was about to happen. He was terrified of the man dragging him by his arm, guilty beyond imagining over the thought that Violet was in here because of him, and more than a little overwhelmed. It was the first time he's been out of his room for longer than a few minutes in days, the overstimulation was making him see black spots.

Frank finally stopped dragging him when they reached the Med Bay. Everything he'd been feeling disappeared in an instant at the sight of Violet. She didn't look as pale, she seemed alive and well instead of suffering and on the verge of death. She was okay, and that made all the difference in the world. Peter wanted to rush towards her and hug her until the end of time. He felt his body begin to surge forward and do just that but stopped just as quickly.

James and Natasha had stepped in front of the hospital bed, hands raised in a non-threatening gesture while their menacing positioning negated the previous indication. That's not what stopped Peter or froze him to his core. It was the red color on Violet's hospital gown, the blood from Violet's bullet leaking through her bandage and onto the bed. In a flash he was back in that warehouse. He could feel the cold, the pain of his heat, and the absolute, utter terror as he saw Kilgrave pull out his gun and shoot Violet. He heard her scream of pain. He saw her fall to the floor.

He did that. He's the reason it happened. If it wasn't for Peter, Violet wouldn't be here. She'd be in Monaco, New Orleans, or Spain right now hiding from Alphas while living her life simultaneously. She'd be dancing in the street and sipping Margaritas, helping some poor kid and building him up to be the best person he can be, gazing at the sunny skies with nostalgia and ogling the starry night with eyes full of wonder and hope. She wouldn't be sitting in a hospital bed on the verge of death because Peter went into heat. She wouldn't be trapped, vulnerable, and surrounded by people who have their own ideas of what was best for her.

She'd be safe, and it was his fault that she wasn't.

"Peter!" Violet shouted. Blue eyes wide and terrified, body stiff and fighting to sit up. Peter glanced down and was shocked to find that she was tied up.

He pointed to her hands, "what did you do?" He questioned, glancing at Natasha and James. "Why is she restrained?"

"It's only a precaution," James started, "Violet was flailing about after waking up from a nightmare."

"Fuck you!" Violet interrupted, pulling at her bonds and glaring the shit out of them, "I was actually having a good dream for once! Then you assholes showed up and turned it into a nightmare! Restraints, scent glands, mating, and spouting all this chosen bullshit!"

"Enough Violet," Natasha cut in, turning to give Violet a look Peter couldn't see. A look that made his dear friend flinch but couldn't stop the fire in her eyes.

The same eyes that looked past Peter and to Frank.

"What are you doing?! End these bastards and get us out of here!"

Peter fearfully glanced back at Frank, gauging his reaction.

Frank's expression was like a stone. Unmoving, cold, and dead. He stared at Violet with the same unfeeling nature as his expression, and Peter shivered with unease. Peter looked back to Violet, who only looked confused.

James glanced at Frank, giving him a curt nod. "Good to see you Lt."

"You too, Buck." Frank returned the nod with the same curtness. "Widow."

"Frank," Natasha winked at him. "I thought you were you going to wait?"

"I did wait. Now we're here." He gestured to Peter who wanted to melt to the floor. "Let's give them a moment."

"I'm afraid now's not a good time," Natasha started when Violet wildly interrupted again.

"Any time away from you psychos is good time! Now what the Hell is going on?"

"Nat," James spoke softly, drawing Natasha's attention to him, "let's give them a moment."

Natasha stared at him for a long second, expression giving nothing away, eyes not as piercing as Peter thought they'd be. Then she dipped her chin slightly and turned back to the hospital bed. Violet glared at the Alpha. If looks could kill Natasha would already be rotting. Peter hasn't seen Violet look at someone like that since she kicked the Doctor in the groin and told him off for making fun of him after he presented as an Omega. The day Peter knew that he should never give up because people like Violet would always be around. She's been there for him even when she didn't know him.

He needed to be there for her too.

"We'll be back soon," Natasha spoke purposefully, her fingers stroking the inside of Violet's ankle. She tried flinching away, but she was tied there too. "Try to stay still."

Violet spat at her.

Natasha dodged out of the way, smirking at Violet with glee. "I'm going to have fun with you."

"Bite me," Violet growled.

"Is that an invitation?" Natasha leaned closer, her fingers brushing further up Violet's leg.

"Fuck off!" Violet tried kicking her hand away.

"Maybe later, but not before I fuck you first," her fingers kept moving up.

Peter's heart beat out of his chest, mouth dropped open in shock at the sight before him. Whatever doubts he had, whatever guilt tried consuming him, all of it paled in comparison to what was happening in front of him. Violet was fighting her heart out, refusing to give an inch. The fear in her eyes was there for the world to see, but the fire that was her spirit continued to brew beneath. In that moment, Peter realized the one thing in this world that scared him more than the monster of a man standing behind him, or the menacing figure standing resolutely next to the bed, or the salaciously sinister figure threatening to pounce on his best friend was the thought of Violet as scared as he was.

If that ever happened, the world was over. Or at least Peter's was.

He felt his body surge forward, unaware of what he was doing before it suddenly happened. Just as Natasha's fingers brushed to Violet's knee, Peter slapped away her hand and forced himself between her and Violet. He stared up into the green eyes, fighting the urge to pee his pants. He grabbed Violet's hand, hoping it would give him strength to keep standing.

It did, especially when she squeezed back.

"Stop it," Peter meant to say with the brash authority Violet carried, but it came out as more of a whimper, a simpering plea from a dying mouse or something equally small.

No matter how meager and pathetic it sounded, it worked all the same. Natasha stared down at Peter for a long moment, appraising him no doubt, before backing away slowly. Fingers trailing back down Violet's leg before stopping abruptly at her ankle. She stared Violet down with a pleased smirk.

"I'll wait," Natasha winked, then turned her attention to Peter. "You have 15 minutes, make them count."

"And don't forget," Frank spoke up, earning everyone's attention. He pointed up to the over speakers and cameras. "We're watching."

With that, the alphas left the room. Frank headed out first, then Natasha grabbed James' hand and led them both out. Natasha seemed pleased with herself, but James stared back at Violet carefully, eyes filled with worry as they exited the room.

Then it was just Peter and Violet.

There was an unshakeable sigh of relief that it was finally them. Peter turned and quickly started untying Violet from her bindings while she sunk into the bed and focused on breathing. Her eyes were firmly shut, and Peter didn't need to be a genius to realize she was on the verge of crying. Peter wanted to cry too. He focused on undoing the knots.

The moment her hands were free, Violet grabbed Peter by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into what had to be the tightest, warmest, and safest embrace he's ever been enveloped in. Safer than his Aunt's when they were waiting in the hospital for news on his Uncle Ben's surgery. Warmer than his Uncle's when he carried 8-year-old Peter to bed and tucked him in. Tighter than his friends, Ned and MJ, embrace when they opened their letters to see if they got into their colleges. For a solid moment, Peter felt good.

Until he breathed in her scent and realized how scared she really was.

Outside the Med Bay

Alphas

Natasha wondered how long it would take before one of the men pounced on her. Her best guess was 25 seconds from the moment she took James hand and followed Frank out of the Med Bay. It only took 14. She underestimated James' anger at her. He could be mad at her all he wanted. What she just did was one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life, and that was saying something.

The fear fueling her Omegas scent yet the fire from her spirit burning the fear away just as quickly as it arrived. The first crack in the levy, the beginning of the end for her darling. Natasha had a plan. Now that Violet was finally in their grasp, she intended to see it through. Then Tony's chosen came in and ruined her fun, but the sight of them together was something to behold.

Peter, the pillar of goodness and the media's version of hope. Violet, a shadow that symbolizes the underbelly of goodness where real hope truly thrived. Peter smelt like lavender, bergamot, and morning dew on the riverbend, the sun just beginning to rise and the stars fading away. Violet was berries, chocolate, vanilla, and sea salt around a campfire on the beach, the sun setting and the stars coming to life. Two lovely scents, two wonderful people, two different outlooks on life.

She wondered if she and James were like that.

The man in question released his hold on her hand and grabbed the tops of her arms, shoving her into the nearest wall and shielding her from Frank's anger at the same time.

"What are you doing?" James asked, crimson eyes intense on her face.

The burnt sienna stared softly in returned, "what we discussed."

"It's too soon for that."

"It's never too soon to make the first crack."

"It is when she depends on someone else to fix it." James leaned in, his jaw tensing. "What made you decide now was a good time?"

"She can't run, she can't escape, she's stuck there in the Med Bay with FRIDAY monitoring every move she makes, every breath she takes, constantly watching, constantly recording. She knows where she's at, she knows the game is up right now. We need to start breaking her now before we take her away and she realizes that the game won't be up forever." Natasha started explaining, raising her hands to gently grasp her lover's arms. One hand massaging the skin and tendons in his muscular arms, the other feeling the grooves of this metal replacement. "She's smart, resourceful. She'll find a way, any way to escape, hurting herself again and again in the process. We need to break it, make her doubt herself so that this doesn't happen again."

"It's too soon. Whatever cracks you make now will be fixed by Peter just as quickly."

"Not if they don't realize how many there are," Natasha leaned in slightly too, eyes pleading to her lover. "We've waited over five years for her James. Five years of compromising with one another to satiate each other's needs but never knowing full satisfaction because she wasn't there to fulfill them. Five years I resorted to childish notions of hoping for her return, praying to know what it's like to be part of something more than a team of trusted comrades."

James knew what she was talking about, knew where she was headed. He wanted it too.

"A family of our own," James whispered, shaking his head, "will never happen if we get ahead of ourselves. She's like us, Nat. She's seen too much. Her walls, her beliefs need to be broken, but her trust, her affection need to be earned just as much."

"And we will earn it. I promise you, James. We will earn it in time."

There foreheads touched, breathing each other in deeply.

"Trust me, James." Natasha whispered.

James bopped his nose against hers, "I always do." He sighed, biting his lip, "I just don't want to lose her again."

"We won't," Natasha started, "we won't lose her again."

They stayed like that for a long moment. Holding each other close, taking each in, basking in their calming scents. It took a particularly annoyed grunt to the left of them shook them form their daze and brought them to Frank.

Or so they wanted everyone to believe.

"Clint, you look ridiculous. Take the tech off already." Natasha rolled her eyes.

Frank gave Natasha a look of displease before bringing a hand to his face and tearing it off, revealing none other than Clint Barton with black expertly adapted by Natasha and Sharon. The nano technology developed for the mask was something Tony has been playing with for a bit. He called it a photostatic veil, or nano mask. It imitates another person's face and voice, a real life saver when it comes to undercover missions and staying under the radar. Natasha herself has used these masks, same with Sharon and James as well. It was Clint's first time, and that was for a very good reason.

"How was it stepping inside Frank Castle's shoes?" Natasha smirked as James pulled her away from the wall and hugged her to his side.

"Not fun. FRIDAY report back on Frank's status?"

"He's still unconscious, Mr. Barton. I've had sedative gas flowing through his vents off and on over the past 3 hours. His condition remains stable and there will be no ill effects should I continue the process for another 3. If you require more than I'm afraid I'll have to give him a rest period before administering another dose to the air supply in his room."

"Another 3 hours should work just fine, thank you FRIDAY." Clint pulled off the black wig and rubbed his short, dirty blonde hair free from the gel that plastered the locks to his scalp. "Explain to me why we're doing this again?"

"The only person Peter would open the door to is either Violet or someone from their circle of friends and allies. Peter knew through Tony that Frank was around because he brought in Madani, so it makes sense for it to be Frank."

"Did you know Frank apparently scares the kid shitless? If it wasn't for everything going on right now with Violet, Madani, and the end of HYDRA, Tony would have skinned me alive by now with how scared I made Peter. The kid almost shit his pants just by looking at Frank when he opened the door."

"But you got the point across? He's going to convince Violet to come with us willingly?"

Clint shrugged, pulling off Frank's jacket. "I hope so, kid was tougher to crack than I thought. I almost had him with the guilt trip, then FRIDAY alerted me to Violet, and it was time to go from there."

Natasha nodded, staring back at the door that led to the Med Bay, "I hope so too."

"Frank better not find out about this," James spoke with authority, "doing this will lose us a good friend."

"I know," Natasha squeezed his waist, "but it needed to happen."

"Another crack in the mortar?" James asked, "make her doubt the ones she cares for?"

Natasha nodded, "isolation leads to devastation, and through the ruin she becomes, we'll pick up the pieces and build her anew."

James frowned at that, "I don't want it going that far."

"Neither do I. I don't want her spirit broken, just the walls and beliefs instilled in her. Everything else can stay standing." Natasha smiled at James, her free hand caressing his stubbly jaw to ease her lover.

"I hate to say it, but what if she doesn't buy it?" Clint cut in, an uncomfortable look on his face.

James glanced at his brother, "what do you mean?"

Clint shrugged, "she's a smart kid, perceptive, and wildly suspicious. I'm just asking, do you have a plan in case she sees through this?"

Natasha grinned, "There's always plan B."

Med Bay

Omegas

Peter and Violet hugged for a long, long time. Violet knew they had a time limit on them, but she didn't care. She didn't expect to see Peter again, especially not so soon after getting shot, but she wasn't going to waste a moment contemplating. She carefully moved over to make room for him on the bed, and for a solid five minutes they just held each other, breathing the other in while finding safety in the embrace.

"Frank wants me to convince you to go with James and Natasha," Peter spoke suddenly, chocolate eyes staring up at Violet with guilt and sadness.

It took Violet a moment to recognize the names, unwillingly sorting through memories of previous conversations to realize he was talking about the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier. It was hard to think of them having regular names, names that any person walking down the street could have. People working regular odd jobs to make ends meet. People who sit in the park taking pictures, feeding the birds, throwing a frisbee, playing chess, or watching other people pass by while sitting on a park bench drinking coffee. It was odd, and not Violet's primary concern.

When Peter said Frank's name, it didn't click. She thought back to Frank standing in the back corner after pulling Peter in with him. He wouldn't have stayed in the back corner; he would have brought him all the way to the hospital bed. He wouldn't have greeted her tormentors in such a nonchalant manner, he would have had purpose behind his words. Frank doesn't just talk, he's a man of action. When he can't convey what he means through his actions, then he says what he needs to say. He doesn't beat around the bush or act all hokey like he was right there. And most importantly, never in a million years would he have stood by while The Widow, Natasha, blatantly assaulted her like that and then walked out with her like it was nothing.

No matter what side he's on or what's floating through his Alpha mind, that shit does not go unpunished. Due to the lack of screams, breaking glass, shots being fired, and his signature guttural howl of fury, no one was being punished. Meaning no one was being murdered. It all led to one conclusion for Violet.

"That wasn't Frank," Violet mumbled, gently squeezing Peter. "Remember the last time Frank tried to talk to you?"

"Yeah. I was having a really bad day because I failed my test after studying all night. I think he tried to cheer me up, but it ended up making me cry instead."

"Then I grabbed a golf club and aimed for his head," Violet smiled, rubbing up and down his shoulder with assurance. "and he promised me he wouldn't talk to you by himself ever again. Does Frank seem like the kind of person who breaks their promises?"

"No," Peter realized, carefully shifting in the bed to get a better look at Violet, "he doesn't."

"I don't know how they did it, but that man is not Frank."

Peter smirked slightly, "I think I know how."

"How?" Violet asked curiously.

"To make a long scientific explanation short, it's nano tech. A highly advanced form of technology that can be manipulated to use as the scientist, or engineer in this case, sees fit." Peter took a breath, "Tony was showing me stuff he was working on in his lab when we spent that Friday out, the night before I told you about and . . ." Peter trailed, his expression darkening considerably with a sad gleam.

"Highly advanced form of tech that can be used to manipulate stuff, such as faces and voices?" Violet continued, attempting to keep Peter on track.

It worked, "yeah, but Tony said it was a work in progress, that stuff like this wasn't ready for the world just yet."

Violet rolled her eyes, "not the world but apparently for his precious little Avengers squad it's open season for imitating people."

Peter shook his head, "I'm so gullible."

"It's not always a bad thing," Violet smiled at him before frowning once more, "so that means Frank either isn't here, or he's incapacitated and can't help us, which leaves just the two of us."

"What are two Omegas, one injured and the other a marshmallow, going to do against an army of Alphas?"

Violet breathed deeply, tilting her head back to stop the incoming tears, "I don't know, Peter. I'm just glad you're here."

Peter smiled, and sunk back into the mattress next to her, "me too Violet