Chapter Text
After seeing a loaded gun in the center console of her legal kidnappers' SUV, Parker Lane crashed their car into a tree. And it took forty-five minutes of constant movement through the dense Illinois forest to realize that she was, in fact, very lost.
That was the recurring thought as she stumbled along a dusty dirt trail, her foot catching on a root protruding from the ground. She tripped, caught herself, and continued on as the leaves rustled in the early fall breeze.
The stitch in her side would not go away. After the crash, she ran as far as she could, forcing herself through underbrush and weaving around branches that ended up scraping against everything that wasn't covered by clothing. Her tank was dark enough that it hid the drops of blood that fell from her lip, but her once-white jean shorts weren't so lucky.
They didn't just have dirt- they had blood. If anyone saw her, they would call 911. She would do it too if she saw a scrawny fourteen-year-old girl wandering through the forest like she just got hit by a car and then attacked by twelve cats.
Which, in all honesty, was not far from the truth.
She even lost two friendship bracelets that she made to the trees. And she would have panicked over that on a normal day, but she was busy panicking over the fact that, if caught, she was going to get a bullet to the head.
The men had a gun. She was sure of that. And even though the men were taking her to a school for 'troubled youth-' which she didn't even need- they didn't need to bring a gun.
That was unusual, right? Had to be- what would they even use it for if their goal was to get her to the school? The thought crossed her mind that maybe they weren't who they said they were and were going to kidnap her, or traffick her, or something bad.
But that didn't make sense. Her dad was a former SHIELD agent, so if anyone could sense bad intentions, it would be him.
A stick snapped behind her. Parker froze. Turned. Listened for the rustle of an animal. Kept going when she did.
Just keep moving, she told herself, forcing one foot in front of the other. Keep moving and you'll find a way home. Keep moving or the men will find you.
She would find a way home. Her parents would realize sending her away was a mistake. They would hug her, tell her how much they regretted signing her up for the program, her mom would cry- maybe her dad, too, and then everything would be okay.
She would find a way home, and it would all go back to the way it was.
Right?
Eight weeks in a residential home in Utah, Parker was told. The two men who she woke up to at five in the morning told her that. Said to get dressed, shove some things into a duffel, and leave. They didn't even say their names.
Her parents were just outside her bedroom door. Her dad didn't make eye contact, and all her mom gave her was a tight hug goodbye as Parker tearfully begged them to let her stay. They wouldn't even tell her what she did wrong, what she could have done to deserve being taken away.
Because she genuinely couldn't think of a reason why. She never fought, never snuck out, always kept her grades up… Parker did everything right. So why was this happening?
She locked herself in the bathroom at one point, punching the numbers 9 1 1 on her phone's keypad with shaking hands. Because being ripped from everything she knew at the crack of dawn with no warning whatsoever had to have been illegal.
But before she could hit 'call,' one of the men- the bigger one- broke the door open and dragged her out and into the waiting car as she screamed and cried in pain.
Parker pushed the hair that clung to her cheek back over her ear, wiping the sweat off of her brow with the back of a hand. From the look of it, there was nothing but trees for miles. She was walking a path that never ended. But the idea of turning back… that wasn't a risk she wanted to take.
She spotted the gun an hour into the drive when the man in the passenger seat's hand kept twitching toward it every time she shifted in her seat. And Parker went hunting with her dad often enough for her to know what a person ready and willing to shoot looked like.
Maybe that's why she unbuckled. Why she screamed loud enough to startle the one driving. Why she leaned forward and grabbed the wheel. Why she yanked it to the trees as hard as she could.
Why she ran when the men were dazed. Because, somehow, all she got was a split lip.
Snap.
Parker stilled, slowing her breathing as her eyes scanned the trees. Probably just a squirrel breaking a stick again. No big-
Snap. Snap.
Nope.
She ran.
Darting off the path, she sprinted deep into the woods, trying to find footing on the uneven ground. Brush tangled at her feet, threatening to trip her, but she kept moving, kept pumping her legs as fast as they would go.
Parker ducked low to avoid a branch, taking the opportunity to look behind her.
No one.
She turned her head to face forward.
There was a person standing twenty feet away.
Parker screamed. Her feet slipped against pine needles as she attempted to turn around, and she landed hard on the forest floor. Her knees scraped against the ground as she forced herself up, running through the densest patch of trees she could see. Sticks whipped against her, but she didn't stop, determined to get as much distance as possible.
Her foot caught on a thick patch of brush. She hit the ground, crying out as sharp pain shot up her ankle. Parker tried to get back up. Her foot gave out. She fell back down.
Run, hide, fight.
Her dad's words echoed in her mind. Every year, before school started, he made her practice what to do if a shooting happened. When she was younger, he made it a game: he pretended to be a monster, she had to try to not get seen, ideally get out of the house. But if she was cornered, she had to fight.
Parker wasn't cornered yet. She still had a chance. But she couldn't run. Not anymore.
So she had to hide.
Her eyes flicked to a fallen tree, and she scrambled towards it, half crawling, half running. She moved behind it, the rough bark digging into her back as she pressed herself against it. Parker covered her mouth to stifle her sharp breaths, trying to listen for footsteps as her heart hammered against her chest.
Her feet struggled to push her against the log, unable to find footing in the fallen leaves on the ground. Her hands shook as the snaps and rustles got louder and louder. Parker squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath.
And then the footsteps stopped.
"I'm not coming any closer. Not if you don't want me to."
Her eyes snapped open. That voice was familiar, but it wasn't the voice of the men that took her. Where had she heard that voice before?
"My name is Steve Rogers."
No. No way.
"The men that took you from your home? They're a ten minute walk away."
His words didn't register in Parker's brain. That was Captain America. Of all people. Captain America. It couldn't be him. He was a war criminal, had been for months. And he was in a random small town in Illinois?
"My friends and I have a car a quarter mile away. We can get you somewhere safe." She heard the crunch of leaves as he stepped closer, and her breath caught. "I know you're scared. You have plenty of reason to be. But those men are coming with backup, and they will find you if we don't leave now."
There was a long silence- at least, as silent as the woods could be- as she took a breath. "Backup?" Her voice shook, and she cringed at how tired she sounded.
"I can explain more, but we need to move." Captain America rounded the fallen tree, staying a good distance away to not spook her but close enough so that she could see him. His hands were up and visible, and he crouched down to her level. "Can you walk? How's your ankle?"
"F-fine," she forced out, her eyes wide. He was hardly recognizable- he wore dark clothes and grew a full beard- and Parker wouldn't be able to recognize him by just his looks. But that was- that was Captain America. Steve Rogers in the flesh. And he was staring right at her.
Her hands pressed against the dirt under her, and she pushed herself up, but the second she put pressure on her foot, her ankle gave out. She grimaced, trying again, but this time she almost fell to the ground.
Get yourself together.
Steve moved forward, and she instinctively flinched away as he steadied her, but he didn't let go. "You're okay," he tried to reassure, but his tone was urgent. "You're okay. I'm gonna lift you up." That was the only warning he gave before picking her up, one hand under her knees, the other supporting her back. She tensed, and her face went beet-red as she tried to decide whether to trust him or not.
Captain America was carrying her.
Was she dreaming?
"I can walk," Parker insisted as he moved briskly through the forest- faster than she ever could. "I really can. I just- I don't really have a good pain tolerance- that's what my dad says, but like if I really tried-"
"Hurt anywhere else?" He ducked under a tree, turning to shield her from any sticks or branches. "Neck, back, head…?"
"No. I really can walk though." She paused when Steve didn't answer. "My head hurts a little. But that's 'cause I hit it when I-" Parker realized that she probably shouldn't tell him about the accident. If she told him about what she did, he might not want to help her anymore. Which would be a valid reaction.
"When you crashed the car."
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he there to arrest her? No, that wasn't it. He was a fugitive. A war criminal, ever since the Accords got signed a few months back. "How do you-"
"Anywhere else hurt?"
Everything hurt, she wanted to say. Her skin stung, her lungs burned, her feet ached, her ankle throbbed. But she just shook her head, staring at the former Avenger as if he was a ghost.
Her mouth moved before her brain could catch up. "My friend Logan, he- um- he follows an Instagram page that's like… trying to see where you are, and he said during AP Lang on Tuesday that you were in Japan fighting terrorists. Showed me a photo of it and everything."
Even though his beard covered most of his lower face, she swore his lip twitched faintly. "That right?"
"Ow." A hanging branch hit her twisted ankle. She grit her teeth, trying not to show how much it affected her. "Yeah. If he knew I was talking to Captain America he would go insane. I'm pretty sure he has a picture of you in his locker." There was a pause. "Wait- why are you here? Did my parents send you? Are you taking me home?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Save the questions for when you're safe, okay?"
Her eyes slowly narrowed, and she wanted to push, but decided against it. "I'm Parker. By the way. Um- Parker Lane." He nodded, and her eyes narrowed further. "You already knew that. Why do you already know that? Did-"
"Later," he responded, ducking down again, being more careful this time to shield her from any stray branches. "You see that road up ahead? Through the trees?"
Parker turned her eyes, squinting. Her head tilted to the side as she saw a flash of white through the green. "Is that a car?" Her voice trailed off as he carried her on to the small back road. "Oh my God."
The Falcon- Sam Wilson- leaned against a beat-up pickup truck. He straightened when he saw them, knocking on the window of the vehicle before he walked closer to them. The truck's engine started- someone was in the driver's seat.
Captain America kept one hand on her arm as he slowly set Parker on the ground, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water. "They're ten minutes away. Maybe closer. We should move."
Sam's eyes scanned Parker's bloodied state, concern in his eyes. Parker wasn't that bad off, was she? She felt fine- well, not fine, but not enough for an Avenger of all people to worry about her. "Steve, she's-"
"Sprained ankle, possible concussion. Can you do triage in the car?"
He slowly nodded, going to open the doors of the vehicle. "Rough morning?"
It took a moment for Parker to realize he was talking to her. She quickly nodded. "Yeah. I guess. I mean- you guys have probably had way worse, but- um. Are you taking me home? Because I really need to get home."
There was an uneasy pause as Steve and Sam made eye contact. "Home isn't safe. Not right now." Steve starting helping her towards the car, but Parker pulled back. His jaw tightened, and he crouched down slightly to be on her level. "We will do what we can to bring you back. But right now, that means keeping you alive."
Home wasn't safe? What did he mean 'home wasn't safe?' Of course it was safe. "But-"
"Parker. I need you to listen to me." Steve put both hands on her shoulders, making sure she was looking at him. "If those men find you, they will hurt you. I'm not going to let that happen." A second passed, and his voice lowered even further. "So I need you to get in the truck. Okay?"
She almost protested until she saw the set look in his eyes. He was serious. Something was wrong- really wrong. Parker swallowed the lump in her throat.
"…Okay."