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Be yourself; everyone else is already taken. – Unknown.
Sam pushes the heavy doors open, slumping as light streams out of the Avengers gym.
The thing about heroes is that they’re much like soldiers. Sam noticed, shortly after he officially meet Steve Rogers – Captain America – for the first time. That ever restlessness that seemed to make the war hero fidget and draw, anything to keep his hands active. The sleepless nights and ever-present guilt.
Heroes are the same. Fighting to make the world a better, safer, place. Willing to give up everything they own, to make it happen. Almost. At least. Almost.
They don’t sleep with rocks as pillows, and a mattress made of dirt. They don’t truly understand the feeling like your bed is made of Marshmallows, and you’re sinking too deep into it to ever feel comfortable. But it doesn’t mean the weight they carry on their shoulders is any less real.
After Thanos… that would only get worse.
Moonlight seeps in through the glass wall, that covers parts of the gym. Sam can find the punching bags in the dark by now, both for him and for Bucky. Because destroying something as lifeless as a bag of sand is the only thing that gives them a sense of peace. It’s something they share after nightmares or sleepless nights. It sounds sad, on some level. But Sam knows better. These are the moments where the team bonds on a never-before-seen level. These are the moments when secret slips past their lips. They open up and become stronger heroes.
It still surprises Sam to find Spider-man being the gym’s occupant. His brown hair is slicked with sweat, a large t-shirt covers up his chest. Web-shooters clasped around his wrists.
The sandbag swings wildly back and forth, as Spidey goes full-out mental on it. Sand is already seeping onto the blue mat. Spidey’s whole body seems shaky. Yet the teen pushes himself, each punch being a little faster, filled with a little more power.
“Webs?” Sam calls out carefully, making his way to the far end of the Gym.
After Thanos killed them, and the Avengers brought them back – blip victims – Spider-man had become a great part of the Avengers. Easily filling in the gap between Steve’s strength and Tony’s brain. The kid had much to learn before he could become the leader, but the beginning was there. The abilities were there.
He just needed to be taught a little. Given a chance to grow into the legacy he had to carry on his shoulders. He, Stark had once claimed, was the best of them.
When Spidey doesn’t answer, Sam takes another step closer. Calling out again. “Pete?”, no superhero names tonight. Secret identities didn’t belong on a team. They’d given him time to feel comfortable with them. The time that had paid off, as red spandex had been pulled off that young face. Though the kid still wasn’t used to his name being called out by the team.
It would come, Sam assured himself. It had taken a while too, for Sam to become the Falcon when he got his call signal. It was just how things were.
Another punch sends the sandbag flying. Crashing against the ground, splitting at the seams. Sand covers the floor around Peter’s naked feet. Face flushed the young man looks up, eyes slowly focusing on his fellow hero. “Sam?” he sounds tired, “Sorry. Di-did you need the gym?”.
Sam waves the worried expression away, smiling kindly at the kid. “Nah, don’t worry. You know how we heroes are”.
“Yeah…” Spidey nods, shrinking in on himself. “Therapy” he waves at the discarded sandbag. It slumps on the mat, like a dead corpse. The hero’s raw, uncontrolled strength, having pulled its soul – or sand – us of it. Left it for dead on the battlefield.
Spider-man’s point stands. Sam takes a seat on a nearby bench, slowly rapping his hands, while Peter goes to fetch another bag of sand. Faint blood stains covered his knuckles. Dark bruises linger against the younger man’s skin. “Rough night?” Sam asks the hero to hang the reinforced bag in the metal chains.
Peter hesitates, shaky hands clasping to the leather of the punching bag. His eyes are glazed over, in an unfocused stare. Distant.
He can hear as Spidey swallows audibly. Adam’s apple wavering in his throat, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes. Peter breaths out, slowly. Lost in another world, far, far away from Sam and Avengers tower. “Yeah. I… you know. Just a nightmare. About…” Peter waves his hands at the nothingness between them.
Sam needs nothing more to understand what the young hero means.
He hates to think about it, but the reality is, that Peter Parker and Sam Wilson, are a lot alike. They are both heroes in every sense of the word, forced into a world of pain and bad guys. Watching someone they loved, killed. Wingman or uncle doesn’t matter in the end. It leaves unseen scars. That was only the beginning. They’d both dusted, Sam remembers suddenly. He’d heard about the aftermath from Steve, about Tony collapsing to the floor. He’d heard about why, Stark decided to try the crazy time travel. Risking everything.
Risking everything, for one boy.
They’d come back five years later to a changing world. Sam had nephews that didn’t crawl around anymore but were running through the world with more energy than Sam had ever seen. Peter had returned to a younger sister and the news of a dead aunt.
Worse… neither of them had, had their mentor – Steve and Tony – to help them through this changing world. Bucky and Dr. Strange wouldn’t ever fill those empty spots in their lives.
“Same” Sam offers into the air. Hands clenched in his lap.
“Sometimes he just makes me so angry” Webs growls suddenly, a powerful punch colliding with the bag in front of him. Sand pooling under his feet, on a small mountain. “He’s dead, yet he still finds new ways to make my life a living hell”.
Taken aback, Sam shoots to his feet. Confused by the sudden rage, from the usually calm and friendly hero. He, Sam decides, must be Stark. Sometimes Stark just makes me so angry. Stark is dead, yet he still finds new ways to make my life a living hell. “Want to talk about it” he offers, placing a steady hand on Peter’s shoulder, “What happened?”.
“Edith” Spidey spits out, “Edith happened”.
“Edith?” Sam questions, trying to place the word – and failing.
Peter nods. “Edith,” he says, “Is Mr. Stark’s gift to me from the grave. A highly sophisticated weapons system, controlled by an Artificial intelligence, under the name of Edith. Even dead, I’m the hero”.
He pulls a small note from his pants, dropping the paper into Sam’s free hand, before pulling away. Passing across the floor, cheeks blushing, as anger raises.
Sam flips the paper to find twelve words. Twelve tiny words. To the next Tony Stark, I trust you. PS. Say, Edith. – TS.
“To the next Tony Stark” Sam reads out and raises an eyebrow. For a long moment, he studies Peter. Watches as he shifts from rage to doubt and sadness. “I’m not sure I understand, Pete. What exactly is the issue? I mean, other than the highly sophisticated weapons system. I thought you’d be happy to know, that after everything, Tony cared about you”.
The kids look up at him with a broken expressions on his face. “To the next Tony Stark” he mouths, “But I’ll never be able to live up to his expectations. I’ll never be like Tony Stark. I’ll…” he shakes his head. A tear slid down his face. “I’ll never be Iron man”.
There it is.
The weight of the world has been placed on the shoulders of a grieving kid. There’s no use denying it. This isn’t the time for excuses or reasoning.
Carefully Sam hands the paper back, but Peter just stares at the outstretched hand.
“I get it, kid,” he says. The card drops to the ground. “Being a hero is hard work. I doubt Tony would blame you if you don’t feel ready-“.
“You don’t get it!” Spidey snaps. The anger returns at such speed, that Sam isn’t prepared. He stumbles half a step back, watching Peter’s eyes darken. “My aunt is dead, Sam. My friends aged five years while I wasn’t here. My mentor, Mr. Stark, died to bring back half the uni-“ he chocks on the words. “Mr. Stark died to bring me back. Because I d-died. He shouldn’t have. He… I…”.
There’s a long moment of silence. He hesitates.
Then, in a whisper he comes back, “He should have let me stay dead”.
You don’t get it. Only Sam does get it. He isn’t a kid, hasn’t been in a long time. But he dusted too. He too returned to a changed world. He too carries the weight of a mentor. A hero… a friend.
Captain America’s shield of a symbol of hope. It’s a symbol of freedom. But Sam would never be Steve Rogers. Sam would never be Captain America. He’s a black man in a wingsuit. Not a super soldier.
That isn’t what Peter needs to hear right now, and so instead Sam asks, voice small but steady. “Pete. Will you be honest with me for a moment? Just one?”.
Peter nods. Sam closes the space between them and asks, “Do you want to live?”.
“What?” distress flashes across his face, “W-why- Sam, why would you ask that?”.
Sam doesn’t stand down. He’s seen more soldiers break down at the VA than he’d like. Peter is practically a kid compared to them. He pushes a little further, and asks again, “Do you want to live?”.
“No” Peter snaps. Certainty clear in his voice, followed by a flash of horror. Unspoken words echo in Sam’s head, why did I say that? How could I say that? “I mean, yes. I… I don’t. I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know”.
Sam opens his arms wide and invites Peter in. The teen hesitates for a long time, worry boiling in Sam’s chest. Then, he practically falls into Sam. His entire weight crashes against his chest, arms around his torso, tears slipping down across his t-shirt. Sam pads him slowly before he starts rubbing circles across the kid’s back.
“It’s okay, Pete” Sam assures. Holding tightly around the fragile body.
“It’s not okay” Peter sobs into his chest.
“No” Sam agrees slowly, “But it is what it is”. Tony and Steve aren’t coming back. Pretending to know what lies behind their thoughts and actions would be stupid. They could never truly know.
“I don’t fit in anymore” he cries, brokenly. “Spider-man has been replaced, and Morgan calls me her brother and my room at the cabin feels too much like a room for the person Mr. Stark wanted me to be… I… I’m not sure who I am anymore. I just want it to stop”.
Peter confesses his heart out in Sam’s arms, as they stand there. Sand on the gym mat, a reinforced punching bag still swaying slightly beside them.
There is no fix for either of them.
They’ll wake up tomorrow and the world will still ask, who is the next Iron man? And the world will still think, Captain America is on the moon. No amount of words or actions would change that. Any promise of things getting better would be a promise broken. A lie spoke in comfort. But still a lie, all the same.
Heroes don’t lie.
Sam’s mouth feels dry, his cheeks wet, but he rasps out, “Be you, the world will adjust”. It has to.
The Falcon and Spider-man are the same in a lot of ways. Left behind the pick of the pieces of a war, that they don’t remember fighting. And while the heroes and people around them stand strong by their sides, they don’t understand the weight that they’ve been asked to carry.
Their life has been changed, not just during those five years that they’ll never get back. It’s still changing right in front of their eyes.
Peter pulls back, drying off his tears the best he can. His cheeks remain wet and shiny.
He looks down into the ground and breaths. Then looks up. Meets Sam’s eyes. “Sam, do you miss Steve?”.
“Every day” he confirms with a soft nod, “I’ll never quite be as good as he was”.
“I think you’re doing just fine” he hesitates, “Uhm… eh, Happy said something, I… I think, maybe… maybe Steve felt the same. Uhm… that, that the one thing he didn’t the second guess was picking you”.
The words ring out as something Happy would say to a grieving kid. The right words for the right time. They also allow Sam to breathe a little easier. Because this kid is right. Steve didn’t, wouldn’t ever, the second guess his choice. Bucky had been right there… just as ready to take on the Shield. But Steve hadn’t thought about it twice.
How does it feel?
Like it’s someone else’s.
Sam lets his arm fall around the kid’s shoulders, guiding him out into the dark hallway. The world feels a little less lonely, if only for a moment. “You know what kid, I think, it’s time to take the Shield back”.
His eyes light up with such passion. He truly is the best of us.