C174 Old Friends

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As the remnants of his phone smoldered on the hangar floor, Peter didn't waste another second. He sprinted toward one of the Jedi ships docked in the hangar, his mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, each more dire than the last.

"Wait here!" He called out to Bee, "I'll be back soon…"

As soon as he reached the ship, he vaulted into the cockpit, the hatch closing swiftly behind him. He flipped a series of switches, powering up the ship's engines. He didn't bother with the usual pre-flight checks; he was already lifting off before the hangar doors had fully opened.

A second later, the ship shot out like a bullet, leaving a trail of light behind it as it soared through the sky, heading directly toward Mikaela's house.

The cityscape blurred beneath him as he pushed the ship to its limits, weaving through buildings and cutting across the skyline.

As he neared Mikaela's neighborhood, Peter saw the familiar streets and rooftops below. He slowed the ship just enough to avoid causing a scene, but not enough to dull the urgency burning inside him.

Then he spotted it—her house, surrounded by construction vehicles and workers who were clustered around a small figure on the lawn. Mikaela.

Worry surged through him as he angled the ship downwards, landing it directly in the middle of the street with a forceful thud. He didn't care about the secrecy anymore. Whatever was happening to Mikaela, it could be serious. He had to get to her now.

The workers stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn to the sudden appearance of a futuristic ship descending from the sky.

"?!" They stared in awe and confusion, not fully understanding what they were seeing. Some of them even dropped their tools, their eyes wide with disbelief as they took in the sleek, alien design of the ship.

The ship's cockpit opened, and Peter emerged, his expression focused and intense. He paused, raising his hand toward Mikaela. The Force flowed through him, his connection to it a steady, familiar hum that amplified his senses and intentions.

Suddenly, Mikaela's unconscious body began to lift off the ground, the movement slow and gentle. The workers' eyes widened further as they watched her float towards the ship, disbelief and fear etched across their faces. To them, it looked like she was being abducted by some unknown force.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" one of the workers shouted, breaking free from his shock.

A couple of others snapped into action, moving towards Peter as if to intervene, but Peter held up his free hand in a calming gesture, his voice steady and reassuring. "Thank you for your help, but I'll take it from here."

His words carried a weight of authority, and for a moment, the workers hesitated, unsure of how to respond. They could see the concern in Peter's eyes, and something in his tone told them that he was there to help, not harm.

Without waiting for further reaction, Peter sat back down as the hatch closed, sealing the ship with a soft hiss, Mikaela sleeping soundly on his lap.

As the workers realized what was happening, a few of them sprinted towards the ship, shouting and waving their arms, trying to stop him. But before they could reach it, the ship lifted off the ground, engines roaring to life as it ascended into the sky.

The workers watched in stunned silence as the ship shot off into the distance, disappearing in a matter of seconds. They exchanged glances, a mix of confusion and amazement on their faces.

"What the hell just happened?" one of them muttered, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," another replied, shaking his head, "but whatever that was, it was like something out of a sci-fi movie."

Meanwhile, inside the ship, Peter carefully held Mikaela as he flew, his mind racing as he checked her over. Her breathing was steady, but she was still unconscious, her face pale and her brow furrowed as if she were in the midst of a troubling dream.

…

..

.

Arriving at the Red Room, Peter's ship flew quickly, yet carefully, into the hangar he left only minutes ago. He was out of the cockpit before the engines even had a chance to fully power down, Mikaela cradled in his arms. Her unconscious form was worryingly limp, her breathing shallow but steady. He moved with purpose, sprinting as he made his way to the infirmary.

Bursting through the infirmary doors, Peter didn't waste a second. He carefully laid Mikaela down on a medical bed, his mind racing. Thinking quickly, he pulled out his datapad and connected it to the Red Room's internal communication system.

"Medical emergency in the infirmary! I need Jedi healers and Shield doctors here now!" Peter's voice was calm yet commanding, resonating throughout the entire base.

But he wasn't about to wait for them to get here. With a deep breath, Peter centered himself. He had learned enough from the Jedi healers and during his time with them to know how to perform a basic diagnostic check, even if he wasn't as skilled as the masters or as knowledgeable as the Shield doctors.

He closed his eyes, focusing on Mikaela, letting the Force guide his senses. As he concentrated, he felt something—an overload, a surge of energy that didn't belong. It was as if her mind had been hit with a wave of something all at once, something far beyond what a normal human could handle.

"A neural overload…" Peter muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing. "A seizure caused by some kind of influx, but… from what?"

He couldn't make sense of it. There were no signs of external injury, no evidence of trauma that would explain what he was feeling. Whatever had happened, it was internal, something within her body or mind itself. He knew he needed help to figure out exactly what had caused this, and more importantly, how to treat it.

Just as Peter came to this conclusion, the infirmary doors burst open, and a flurry of activity followed as the Jedi healers and Shield doctors flooded into the room. Their expressions were a mix of concern and determination, each ready to do whatever was needed to help.

"What's the situation?" one of the Shield doctors asked, stepping forward quickly.

Peter turned to them, his face serious. "It looks like her mind was overloaded by something," he explained. "She had a seizure and then passed out. I'm not sure what caused it, but it's like her brain was hit with something, maybe energy?"

The Jedi healers didn't wait for further instructions. They moved swiftly to Mikaela's bedside, their hands hovering over her as they checked her over, just as Peter did only seconds ago, their expressions calm and focused.

The Shield doctors, meanwhile, set to work with their own medical tools, preparing to run a series of tests. "We'll need a full neurological scan," one of them said, already pulling up the equipment. "Let's see if there's any unusual brain activity."

As the medical team got to work, Peter stood by, feeling a mix of helplessness and determination. He wanted to do more, to be able to fix whatever was wrong, but he knew that right now, he had to trust in the skills of those around him.

…

An hour later, Peter stood outside the infirmary, watching the hustle and bustle of the doctors and Jedi healers through the glass window.

His mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what could have caused Mikaela's sudden seizure. The memory of their phone call replayed in his head—the strange way his phone exploded, the confusion he heard from her.

Something had happened...

Peter began to piece it together. 'Did she—'

Suddenly, Peter was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. He turned to see Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers walking briskly down the hallway, their expressions filled with concern.

"Peter!" Peggy called out as they neared. "Is Mikaela okay? We heard from the doctors that she was brought in."

Peter nodded, trying to reassure them. "She seems like she'll be fine, but I'm just not sure what caused it," he admitted. "Hopefully, the doctors and healers can figure it out."

Steve frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are they still working on her?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, glancing back toward the infirmary doors. "I'm just stuck here waiting for them in the meantime."

Peggy and Steve exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. After a moment, Peggy turned back to Peter. "Would you like to come with us to meet with Professor Xavier and Bucky?" she asked gently.

Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "?"

Peggy had told Steve about Bucky almost immediately after he had woken up, but Steve hadn't seen Bucky yet because Xavier had asked them to wait until he was ready.

Now, it seemed that the time had come.

Peter nodded, eager to see the interaction between Steve and Bucky. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said, a small smile forming on his lips. He could use the distraction, and the prospect of seeing Steve reunite with Bucky was too compelling to pass up.

Besides, if what he suspects happened to Mikaela is true, he'll need to speak with Professor Xavier as well.

The three of them made their way through the maze-like corridors of the Red Room, heading toward the prison section where Bucky was being held. They eventually reached an open area just outside the prison, where Professor Xavier was waiting for them, sitting in his wheelchair.

"Professor," Peggy greeted him with a nod, her tone respectful. "Thank you for meeting with us."

Xavier gave a kind smile, nodding in return. "Of course, Peggy. I'm glad you could come." He turned his attention to Steve, his expression becoming more serious. "Captain Rogers, I know this meeting is important to you."

Steve nodded, his expression earnest. "I just want to help my friend, Professor. I'll do whatever it takes."

Xavier acknowledged his determination with a thoughtful nod. "Bucky has been making progress, but it's extremely slow," he explained. "While I've been treating him, I've been careful not to force anything. He is my patient, not an enemy combatant, and as such, I'm approaching his treatment with respect and caution."

Peggy seemed confused. "Then should we wait longer? Are you sure he's ready to meet today?"

Steve looked conflicted. He was eager to see Bucky but didn't want to disrupt his recovery. If Xavier believed waiting longer was best, Steve would respect that decision, despite his impatience.

Xavier shook his head gently. "No, I believe now is the right time," he said. "I'm hoping that seeing you, Steve, might trigger a memory or emotion that will help him engage more with his treatment. Right now, he's very closed off, almost like trying to treat a brick wall. If he can remember something, anything, it might encourage him to work with us more willingly."

Steve nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "I'll do whatever I can to help him remember," he said firmly.

Xavier gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Good. But remember, this will be a delicate process. Bucky is still struggling with Hydra's brainwashing, and we need to be careful not to push him too hard too fast."

Peter, Peggy, and Steve all nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. With that, Xavier led them through the heavy doors into the prison section of the Red Room. The atmosphere changed immediately, becoming colder and more oppressive. The sound of the heavy steel doors closing behind them echoed down the dimly lit hallways.

They walked past rows of cells, most of them filled with Hydra operatives or Kree soldiers, each of them watching as they passed. But Peter paid them little attention; his focus was solely on what lay ahead.

At the far end of the corridor, they came to a more isolated area. This was where Bucky was being held, away from the other prisoners for his own safety and theirs. As they approached, Peter could see Bucky sitting in his cell, his head bowed, his long hair falling over his face. He looked lost, as though he was in a world of his own.

Steve took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to see his oldest friend again. He stepped forward, coming to a stop just outside Bucky's cell.

"Hey, Bucky," Steve said softly, a gentle smile forming on his face.

At the sound of his voice, Bucky's head lifted slightly. His eyes, dull and lifeless just moments before, widened ever so slightly in a confused recognition.

A/N: 2126 words :)

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