Chapter 1: Captain America

War.

Not the romantic idea that many civilians believe it to be. Wars are often painted black and white. Good guys and bad guys. Right and wrong.

Not in this case.

Both sides had heroes and villains. Enemies and friends were the same. Soldiers and civilians were too. It was a mess. Couldn't trust anyone or anything. There was no innocence.

Steve Rogers looked back to the skinny form curled on the other side of the plane. Spider-Man (or Peter Parker as Stark said) lost his innocence today. His freedom. His identity. His family. His home. All gone. He was so young too. Far younger than Steve when he joined the military to fight a war. How old was he? Fourteen? Fifteen? Something along those lines. In either case, too young to get caught up in this war.

Peter had been out for almost eight hours. Whatever they hit him with, it knocked the lights out of him. Then again, the weapon wasn't built to strike Spider-Man. It was built to hit Captain America. To take him down and make him inactive.

Steve shook his head. How did it all come to this? He remembered the Avengers forming, coming together to stop Loki's plan of world dominance and assassination. He recalled those fond moments afterwards with the team, sitting around to enjoy each other's company. No arguments. No belittling. Just good old fashion conversation and drinks.

Yet, even back then in those happier moments, it was spiraling to this exact point. Steve, sitting alone in a plane with an unconscious, superhero kid. He was not looking forward to when the boy wakes up from his coma.

After escaping the school and meeting with his friends, Steve got Wanda and Scott to help him cleanse the tracking droids out of Peter's system. Couldn't have Ross and his men find them through the boy. It took some difficulty, but eventually they destroyed the tracking devices and they cut the chains that linked Peter's wrists together. He was free from the government's imprisonment. For now.

Steve promised Stark he would keep the boy safe and Steve never broke promises. It was too risky to keep Peter in the United States. Not with Ross and his team (including former teammates) searching for them. Alas, this was the new age of war and Steve needed to learn to adapt to it in order to survive. Along with Peter Parker.

A stir on the other side of the plane caught Steve's attention. The boy's head moved and a hand twitched. Seconds followed and eyes blinked into awareness. Brown eyes alight in confusion of his surroundings, twisting around to survey the area.

Cautiously, the boy began to rise. "W-Where am I?" he groggily muttered as he rubbed the last bits of sleep from his eyes.

Steve inhaled, mentally readying himself. "You're safe, son," he said to Peter. "You're on a plane."

Peter shot his head up to where Steve sat, eyes rounding on him. "Captain America?" Peter gasped through his croaked throat. "W-What... how—what's going on? Where am I?"

"You're on a plane," Steve repeated, getting up from where he sat and moved across the small aisle to sit next to Peter. "You were shot by soldiers at your school. Do you remember that?"

Peter's face crinkled in concentration before slowly nodding. "Yeah... yeah, I remember," he said, becoming fidgety. Most likely a reaction from his memory. "They shot Mr. Harrington! Is he all right? They didn't kill him, did they?"

Steve shook his head. "No, he's fine."

"What about my friends? Ned? MJ?"

He had no idea who Peter was referring to, but he assumed Ned was the boy who refused to leave Peter's side. "No one was hurt except you and your teacher. Everyone is safe."

That cooled off Peter, but the fidgeting didn't wane. His eyes bounced around the plane, searching for something or someone. "Is this Mr. Stark's plane?"

"No."

The boy's brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh... um… whose plane is this then?"

"King T'Challa's plane."

"Who?"

It appeared Tony forgo introductions between team members. "He's the Black Panther," Steve illuminated for the kid. "The king of Wakanda."

Peter's eyes went wide once more. His lips formed a tight oval shape as the recognition settled through the muddled haze. "Oh—wow! That's, um, cool. I guess. Never been on a plane. I mean, I have been on a plane, but not a royal plane," the kid blabbed, clearly his nerves were overworking. "So, are we like heading back to the compound? Will Mr. Stark be there?"

This was going to be difficult. Steve inhaled, his shoulders rising as he did. Readying himself like he always did right before going into battle. "We're not heading to the compound."

"Oh. Okay, then like a safe house?" Peter assumed.

He wasn't completely wrong. "We are heading to Wakanda," Steve informed him. "To Africa."

Peter shot up from his seat. "To Africa?!" he exclaimed, stunned beyond belief. "I can't go to Africa! I... I have school! My friends. My aunt—Aunt May! Does she even know what's happening? Does she know where I am?"

"Listen Pete—"

"I can't leave Aunt May," Peter rolled on, spluttering his complaints in a series of short gasps as he paced in short lengths before Steve. "She needs me! She has heart problems and needs medicine. I can't leave her on her own. I can't!"

Peter spun around, looking for the cockpit door. "Turn the plane around!" he ordered. "I need to go back. I need to... turn the plane around!"

Steve didn't move. Only stared at Peter in sympathy. This was why Tony Stark shouldn't have involved a kid in the war. Being away from home was too traumatizing.

When Peter realized Steve wasn't going to have the plane turned around, he took matters into his own hands. "Fine, I'll do it," he said, marching over to the cockpit door.

Steve immediately blocked his path. "I can't let you do that, son."

Peter slanted his eyebrows downward, mouth curled. "Why not?"

"I promised to keep you safe and that is what I'm going to do."

"Promised? What promise?"

"Stark," Steve clarified for him. "He asked me to keep you safe and out of Ross's reach."

Hearing Stark's name shattered Peter's defiance. He stepped back, nearly speechless. "Mr. Stark? He... he told you to keep me safe?"

"Yes."

"I-I thought you guys weren't talking to each other."

So did I for a long time, Steve thought. "Only when we're not saving lives," he quipped. "Stark cares about you, Peter. Or else he wouldn't have asked me to save you."

Peter went silent. His body swaying with the plane as he digested what he heard. The poor boy, Steve thought. He looked so lost. The boy ran his fingers through his hair, spiking it in different direction as he deeply exhaled. "Can I... um... can I speak to Mr. Stark?"

Steve shook his head. "There're no phones."

"No phones?"

"Government can track us through technological means," Steve explained the predicament the fugitives must face. "That means no computers, phones, social media and other things… I'm not sure exactly what they are, but anything electronic is a no."

"Then how do I get a hold of Mr. Stark? My aunt?"

"You can't," Steve somberly announced. "Not until this is all over."

It almost looked like one of Thor's lightning bolts struck young Peter. His muscles went firm, mouth thinned to a point it almost looked like he had no lips and his eyes had a shiny coat of tears glossing them.

Steve wished he could tell the boy a different answer. Tell him that they were heading to the compound where Stark and his aunt and all of his old friends were waiting for them. He wished he could tell Peter that he could go back home, sleep in his own bed and wake up to find his friends at school. He wished he could tell Peter the government wasn't hunting him down or that if caught, he would be locked away on the Raft, an unpleasant prison for people like them. Especially for people like them.

But he couldn't. Sometimes, the truth is hard, but it is better than false hope.

"I'm sorry, son," Steve gravely said to the stricken boy. "I know this a lot to take in—"

Pow!

A fist matter punched into the side of Steve's face, embedding his cheek with bony knuckles. It didn't hurt too badly. A slight sting. But the surprise was what offended him the most.

Steve recovered quick enough to stop Peter from launching over him to the cockpit door. He snagged onto Peter's legs, bringing the boy back down to the floor. The kid was a slippery fellow and flexible too. He quickly got out of Steve's grip, shoving his foot right into Steve's face.

He was definitely Tony Stark's protégé.

War experience kicking in, Steve stopped going easy. He pushed himself up, leaping right on top of Peter right before the kid could reach the cockpit door. The kid wiggled and wrangled, trying to throw Steve off him. Steve gave the boy credit. He was strong and Steve had to change grips several times to keep hold.

Steve was never fond of wrestling, but since becoming Captain America, he understood the necessity of learning how to take down one's opponent as swift as possible. Peter, while strong, didn't have the greatest coordination. He was a bit sloppy, not well-versed in hand-to-hand combat nor wrestling. He must not have been athletic prior to becoming a superhero.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Steve finally got Peter pinned down. Peter furiously wiggled, doing his best to get out of Steve's stronghold. Attempt after attempt, Peter's strength waned under the realization that he could not break out.

Peter then freely cried. "Please! I need to go home," he cried. "My aunt needs me! She needs me! I'm her only family member she has left. She can't… I can't leave her! Please, turn the plane around! Turn it around!"

Steve cringed at hearing Peter's plea. It brought him back to that moment he woke up and discovered everyone he loved and knew were gone. He too wanted to turn around and go back to him. But he couldn't. It wasn't possible.

Just like it is for Peter.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured, sprawled on the floor as he held Peter Parker in his strong embrace. "I am truly sorry."

Tears sprung and rivulets of tears streamed down Peter's cheeks. "No… no, take me back! Take me back!" he cried, his hands punching whatever part he could get on Steve. "I can't leave her too!"

Steve took the beatings, but he never once loosened his grip. He knew saying sorry wasn't going to make the kid feel any better about his predicament and telling him it was all going to be all right wouldn't subdue the boy's hysteria. Situations like these left a horrible bile in Steve's mouth. To think, a year ago life was completely different for them. He was part of a team again. A free man with friends who all believed in the same cause—a better world, a better future.

And yet, here he was on a plane to Wakanda as a fugitive from the government he once served, holding a sobbing teenager who wished only to return to his family.

When Peter went lethargic, still crying on Steve's chest, Steve loosened his hold and pat Peter on the back. "I know," he said. "I know."

The rest of the trip was quiet. Peter hardly said a word. He stopped crying after an hour, refusing any food and only accepting water to refresh his raw throat. Steve sat a seat away from him, giving Peter space to console himself over his new living situation. He kept an eye, watching for any signs of rebellion again, but Peter seemed to have given up hope on that matter. He sat in his seat and stared at his knees the entire time.

The plane dipped down and the captain notified Steve they arrived at Wakanda. It didn't take long for the plane to reach the runway. It was a bit of a bumpy landing, but no broken bones or whiplash for either of them. The plane steered its way to the hanger, rolling up the stretch of runway until it arrived at its terminal.

Steve stood up. "Ready, son?"

Peter blinked up. So lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even noticed they landed. "Don't call me that," Peter grumbled as he rose to his feet.

Steve made a mental note to not address him as 'son'. A sore topic for another time. He waited on Peter to get his bearings. The boy's knees wobbled a bit, but he held steady and followed Steve out of the plane.

Wakanda was gorgeous. The surrounding mountains and waterfalls brought a deep sense of peace and serenity. The fresh air smelled of blossomed flowers and fresh greens, which was very contradictory to what stood before him. A vast, advanced technological society. Skyscrapers, ships and even a flying train caught the wild imagination of a child. It was beautiful and powerful and richly growth.

But, Steve still preferred home. Brooklyn, New York. Always.

Steve saw King T'Challa standing up ahead, awaiting for them to come forward. Steve nudged Peter, who was still gaping at the magnificent sight of Wakanda. As they made their approach, Steve saw inquisitiveness lurking in the Black Panther's eyes.

Steve stooped a few feet away and bowed. Peter awkwardly followed his lead and bowed before King T'Challa.

King T'Challa, dressed in his royal gown, accepted their honors. "Captain America," he greeted, taking Steve's hand. "I had not expected to see you for some time."

"Nor I," Steve admitted. "But, a situation arose. One we need your help with."

King T'Challa's gaze dropped to Peter. "Is he the situation?"

Peter curled his nose, but Steve answered. "Peter Parker is in need of protection," he explained to the king. "Ross attacked him at his school, but luckily we escaped capture. He needs a safe place to hide until the whole thing is over."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to bring a fugitive," King T'Challa said, "who is wanted by the United States government, into my country? Into my home?"

Perhaps he was wrong about Wakanda's assistance. Maybe they only accept one fugitive at a time. "I know it is a lot to ask, but Peter can't go home. It's too dangerous," he said. "If Ross gets his hands on him, Peter will be up in the Raft. He's only fifteen years old. He can't go through that."

King T'Challa gestured in agreement. "So you wish for him to stay here? Under my protection?"

"I know you don't have extradition laws with the US. He'll be safe within these walls from any US government operator," Steve said. "I know it is a lot to ask, but he's a kid. Stark wants him safe, so—"

"Stark?" King T'Challa sounded surprised to hear Steve say Iron Man's name. "Stark knows the boy?"

Steve nodded. "So do you," he said and he nudged Peter to introduce himself. "Go ahead."

Peter bowed away to King T'Challa. "I'm, um, Peter. Peter Parker," he stuttered. "Or you'll know me as Spider-Man."

Peter's alter-ego name dawned on the Black Panther. "You are Spider-Man?" King T'Challa asked, curiously looking over Peter as if he expected it to be a joke. "You are only a boy."

"I'm fifteen… Your Highness."

King T'Challa shook his head. "Mr. Stark had no business in drawing a teenager into war," he said in deep disagreement.

Steve agreed, but there was no need to vent. What's done is done. "So, Your Highness," he said, hoping King T'Challa would bless Steve with a vow. That he would accept Peter Parker into his kingdom and protect him from the US government. "Will you let him stay?"

King T'Challa eyed Peter one more time, reexamining him in a critical, but soft manner. "Mr. Parker is welcomed to my home and lands," he declared and he stepped close to Peter. He held out his hand for a handshake.

Peter shook in return. King T'Challa smiled. "Welcome to Wakanda," he said, "Peter Parker."