My Country, 'tis of Thee

My country, 'tis of thee,

Stronghold of slavery. of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,

Where men man's rights deride.

From every mountainside thy deeds shall ring.

-Abolitionist verses by A.G. Duncan, 1843

Prologue

...

...

Peter Parker

A wasp is buzzing in my ears. Prickling and loud and echoing.

I breathe in through my nose and lift my hand to swat at it as I flinch away.

PAIN

I'm choking on the air, on the dank, musty air that's too thin, too dusty to swallow down easily. Each cough and ragged inhale send spears of hurt driving down every nerve. It's confusing, alarming, and my panic builds until I can taste it on my tongue and feel it sliding down my cheeks. Can't tell where the pain is coming from. Here. There. Everywhere.

My mind conjures an image of a Dr. Seuss book. White page. Black words trailing down without structure above a picture of a fuzzy creature. On its front. Screaming. Eyes round and white. Red beneath it.

Here. There. Everywhere.

The air condenses in my throat, swelling into a knot that presses against my windpipe like it's about to burst.

But each breath, each shallow intake, brings a little more clarity to my cloudy mind. I'm starting to register the other sensations around me...in me…

Most pressing is the wasp that is bellowing in my ears.

Not a wasp.

Static. Voices. My...coms, I realize. In my mask. And as it finally occurs to me, my brain begins to make sense of the words.

"-not responding!"

"We need-"

"-already scanning for his signa-"

"Watch your left!"

"I see it!"

I blink slowly, registering the whir of sound as the lenses of my mask contract, then widen, trying to focus. Except there's nothing to focus on. It's totally dark.

My mask is damp against my mouth and nose, smelling stale and dusty. Is that why it's so hard to breathe?

My fingers twitch, wanting to reach up to pull the offensive material away.

I can't move my arms.

Fear coils its way around my stomach, winding up around my ribs, my chest, my throat before it cinches tight enough that I let out a whimper.

"Peter? Pete, is that you?"

Clint's voice. Clint.

I swallow hard and croak, "I'm here."

"Jesus," I hear him breathe, unable to hide his relief. There's almost a chuckle in his voice when he speaks next. "Gave us a heart attack up here, you know that?"

"Ssorry."

"You should be," adds Scott. "Taking a nap like that while the rest of us do all the hard work. You okay, man?"

"...yeah."

"Once more with feeling," says Rhodes.

My eyes burn with welling tears, and I have to swallow a few times, breathing shallowly as I do, before I can speak again. "No. I'm...really not."

"Talk to me," Rhodes orders.

Team leader. Team leader, because Tony, Steve...they're gone. They're all missing and the world is ending and it's up to us and we're outnumbered and losing and why did I ever think we stood a chance-

"Peter."

"I uh...I'm trapped. The-the building came down on me. Karen's offline."

It was coming down, and there were still people trying to get out. I'd rushed in, shouldered the failing structure beams before the whole thing could collapse on them. Just to buy them enough time to get out. Then I'd let the whole thing go down.

Had it worked? Had they all gotten out?

Yeah...yeah I think they did. I remember seeing the last couple struggling to stagger out from the crumbling ceiling and walls. My thighs had trembled. My back and arms and shoulders had screamed from the strain. Too heavy. Too long.

But I had it. I had it, so why-

The Hydra soldier. I'd seen him at the very last second, across the street, aiming down his weapon at me. There had been time enough for my eyes to widen, to shoot to the man and woman just bursting out the shattered window front of the store before pain had ripped through my leg, and my knees had buckled.

Then nothing.

"We saw it go down. We're trying to get to you, but they've called for reinforcements. You gotta hang on a sec, okay?" says Clint, and I can hear the snap and twang of his bow releasing arrow after arrow, even through the muddy feed of my communication device.

"How bad are you hurt?" demands Sam.

"Focus, Wilson!" snaps Rhodes. "On your right!"

I'm trembling. A sharp, pulsing ring is accompanying the war of static and voices in my ears. Weight is pressing down on me, all over, pinning me, not flat to the floor, but to the sharp edges of the debris I collapsed upon. Rough edges of...maybe concrete?...scrape against my ribs, and I'm literally sandwiched between a rock and a hard place, I think hysterically.

I try to brace my palms on whatever I'm lying on, but it's slick and wet, and my arms are stuck in an awkward position, my fingers numb and prickling from where the circulation is being cut off.

Oh god. Oh god-oh god-oh god.

Tighter and tighter-I think it's coming down on me again, because I can't even take a little breath. I'm stuck. I'm trapped. I can't get out. It's driving me into the debris, squishing me like a bug, a spider, and they won't even be able to tell Peter Parker was here because there won't be anything left of me-

"Spiderman," Sam's voice is sharp and clear.

Spiderman. I'm...I'm Spiderman.

"Easy on that air, okay? I imagine you're not getting a lot of it down there, so let's start conserving it."

I'm Spiderman, and I've been trapped before. And I've gotten out. Gotten myself out. I'm okay. Just gotta calm down and think and focus.

"Good," Sam's voice is breathless, like he's running. "We're gonna get you out. Just hold on a little longer."

"Yeah...yeah okay."

After a few minutes, my breathing is back to its original shallow state, and I'm trying to figure out where the worst of the pain is. Definitely have a few cracked or broken ribs. My shoulders feel out of place, but there isn't too much hurt there, because most of my arms have gone numb.

I test my movement, each limb and toe.

The pain from my right leg has white spots needling my dark vision and a choked cry bursting from my lips.

"Peter?"

"I'm...I'm..."

Definitely not okay. I've been shot, just below my knee. It explains the metallic stench weaving through the dank, dusty air. Probably lost a lot of blood, but I'm guessing enough of my enhanced healing has kicked in enough to stop me from losing too much.

"Shit!"

"Scott, get your tiny ass over here!"

"Negative," Clint's voice is tight. Grim. "Retreat down twenty first. We've got a goddamn armada coming down on top of us."

More cursing, grunts, and the sound of fists colliding with flesh.

Cold trickles its way down my scalp.

"Who's close enough to-"

"I need backup here!"

"Damn it, not that way!"

My numb fingers try to curl into fists.

Rhodes takes a breath. "We're gonna have to make a stand, here."

A beat of silence.

"Well, gentlemen," Scott says, forcing cheer into his voice. "It's been an honor."

"Might as well take a few of these bastards with us, huh? Give the world a show?"

They're outnumbered. Outgunned. Hydra's up there, swarming them, but they won't retreat. They won't leave, not without me. They won't leave me here.

And they are going to die for it.

"No," I rasp.

"I'm sorry, Pete. We're gonna be a little late getting to you," says Clint.

"Forget it," I say through clenched teeth. "Go."

"Not happening. We do this together, remember?"

"Suicide wasn't part of the plan. You guys can't...you can't-"

"We aren't leaving you," Rhodes is firm.

My body ripples with a shiver. "Please. Please run. The world is counting on you...you're all that's left. Who's going to save them if you all go down trying to get to me?"

Static and fighting.

"Tell May that it didn't hurt. Tell MJ and Ned that they were the best friends I could ask for. And...and if you see Mr. Stark. Tell him I tried. And that I'm sorry."

"We aren't doing this." Sam's voice is angry. "No way in hell."

"Fight another day. Win this," I breathe. "You're Avengers, not...surrenderers."

"Is that even a word?" asks Scott, but I can hear it now, the apology. The reluctance. The acceptance.

"We'll come back for you," swears Clint. "We'll get you out."

"I know."

They won't. They can't. Not if they're going to stop Hydra from taking over everything. Besides, there won't be anything for them to come back to.

I hope they won't hate themselves too much for having to leave me. Because I get it, and I want them to go. Even if part of me wants to wail and scream and beg for someone to come get me, to not leave me in this cold, dark place to die.

But Spiderman tells them to go. Spiderman tells them that he's gonna be okay. Spiderman tells them to save the world.

I can hear the fight escalating, can hear the reluctant orders to move back, to use the escape route we planned out when we put this mission together. The one we were all supposed to take if things went south.

"You did good, Spiderman," Rhodes says tightly. "Tony would….Tony will be so proud."

Tears soak through my mask before they can slide down my cheeks.

"Thanks, Rhodey," I whisper.

They talk to me, calling out assurances and making promises they won't be able to keep and even throwing in a few light hearted jokes until they slip out of range, and everything goes quiet and dark.

And I'm alone.

Hours later, when the sound of rocks scraping together claws against my eardrums, and the pressure around me shifts and sends prickles and stabs of pain all over, I think deliriously that somehow, they have come back for me. They waited until the area cleared, and they came, just like they promised.

I'm saved. And I'm not alone in the dark.

I take big gulping breaths, eyes fluttering as I try to squint against the shafts of light spearing through the black as the weight is lifted. I fade in and out with each breath, the world swaying beneath and above me, until hands roll me onto my back, and voices begin to speak.

I find my fear again, slithering through me like icy tentacles.

My lenses contract, and I make out the figures standing around me in the dust and debris. The black uniforms and body armor. The weapons held tightly in their hands. The lone silhouette looming over me, capturing my attention whole.

Pale blue eyes stare dispassionately down from raw, crimson flesh.

Red Skull's lips press into a small, victorious smile, and as dramatic as it sounds, I see my death written there, and I suddenly, fervently wish that the building had crushed me flat.

He tilts his head to the side, considering. Then…

"Take him."

...

...

...

A/N: Hello readers!

My Country, 'tis of Thee is going to be an expansion of the two-shot I wrote awhile back called Let Freedom Ring. For those of you unfamiliar with it, you most definitely don't have to read it before this, as this story will be considerably longer and contain a version of the scenes written there. However, you are more than welcome to hop over and let me know what you think.

I hope you guys are excited as I am about this extended fic!

NOTE: This is NOT a part of my Paint it Black series or the CMFU. I repeat. THIS STORY IS NOT RELATED TO THE PAINT IT BLACK SERIES. This one is completely separate, and takes place some time after Spiderman: Homecoming. Details of this new universe will come with the next chapter!

As always, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I can't wait to take you all on this journey! Super excited about this story, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, so drop a review below! I will try to update this as frequently as I can, but I make no promises, as I have a full time job, I'm doing work on an original novel, and I have the Paint it Black universe that I am still hard at work on and nowhere near finished with. Plus, you know, life. XD

That being said, thanks for reading!

-Queen