Chapter Text
“I am a Man of Fortune, and I must seek my Fortune.” –Henry Avery, 1694
If not for the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Peter isn’t sure he’d be able to make it up the side of the prison. The bricks are crumbling away under his hands, barely remaining steady as he climbs. Somewhere below him, Wade and Harry are waiting for news on what’s in Burnes’ old cell.
The Panamanian heat is thick, making the fifteen-year-old sweat through his shirt. Peter curses Wade under his breath for suggesting he be the one who climbs up the old prison tower.
“You’re two years older than me, Wade,” Peter grumbles under his breath. “Me being the youngest isn’t a good reason.”
He reaches an open window and tumbles inside, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat off of his forehead. When he peeks back out to see where the other two are, he can’t find them anywhere.
“I swear to God if they left…” Peter says with a huff.
Within the dingy prison cell, there’s writing engraved on the walls, extending up high enough that Peter wonders how Burnes even got them up there. He lets his hands run over the wall, looking for any loose stones. None of the scribbles indicate any specific spot to look, leaving him to search every square inch.
Suddenly, there’s shouting coming from outside. One of the voices sounds suspiciously like Wade’s. “Dammit, Wade,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes before redoubling his efforts to look for the correct stone.
Peter jumps in fear when the shouting is followed by gunshots. The teen swears as he pulls out the first stone his fingers land on. Luckily for him, it seems to be the correct one. His heart is racing as he pulls out a broken cross, and Peter takes a moment to look it over before tucking it in the back of his pants and climbing back out the window.
Below him, Harry and Wade are doing their best to hold off the guards from the nearby prison while being shot at. They’re outnumbered and need to leave soon before they get killed. Peter hurries back down the tower, going faster than he probably should. He loses his footing in the last ten feet and falls the rest of the way
Unfortunately for Peter, he lands on his feet at just the wrong angle. “Shit!” he bites out as his ankle throbs in pain. He grits his teeth and crawls behind some cover.
“We need to get down to the boat!” Harry yells over to him, and Peter huffs in response. Harry pulls a gun out of nowhere , and begins to return the guards' fire. It’s too bad that he doesn’t have infinite ammo to take out every single guard.
“Can you get up?” Wade suddenly interjects. Peter isn’t sure when the teen made his way closer to him.
He attempts to stand, but his ankle buckles under him. “Kind of,” he grumbles.
Wade curses as his eyes dart around the area. Harry’s gesturing wildly at him to get a move on as the other teen gets a head-start down the hill. “Hang on, baby boy,” is all Wade says before he sweeps Peter off his broken ankle into a bridal carry.
Peter squeaks as his fingers curl into Wade’s shirt at the sudden movement. “What the hell, Wade?” Peter gasps out. He’ll never admit the tiny crush he’s got on the blond, and being pressed so close to him isn’t helping that in the slightest.
“It’s the quickest way,” Wade’s states as his arms tighten a little around Peter, holding him closer as the ground in front of them starts getting steeper. Wade’s feet slip a few times as they head down, trying to avoid either of them getting punched with a few bullet holes.
Harry disappears off into the horizon and Peter can only assume they’re getting close to the water now.
Wade suddenly stumbles, dropping Peter as they both go rolling down the rest of the way. When they drop into the water, Harry’s already on the boat and waiting. They’re still being shot at, and Peter’s movements are jerky as he tries to avoid the bullets. Harry helps him onto the boat before helping Wade.
“Go!” Peter shouts at Harry as soon as they’re all secure. Harry doesn’t waste any more time before getting to the wheel.
Wade grunts in pain and Peter glances at him, taking notice of the growing blood-stain on the teen’s lower left abdomen. Wade presses his hand against it, keeping pressure on the wound even as his fingers grow slick with blood. Peter lets out a heavy breath and fumbles to find their first aid kit.
“I’m not dying, Petey,” Wade says, but the chuckle in his voice soon morphs into a pained groan as Peter shoves his hand out of the way, lifts the shirt, and starts cleaning the wound. It’s going to require stitching.
“You will if you lose enough blood,” Peter replies, giving Wade a firm look.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Fucking hurts, but I’ll live.” Peter shoots a smirk at him as he finishes up. “You’re lucky May taught me the basics.”
“May she rest in peace,” Wade murmurs, earning a soft smile from Peter. “Let me wrap your ankle.”
“When you two are done playing nurse, don’t we have something to look at? You know, the entire reason we’re in this mess?” Harry snaps from the wheel.
Peter rolls his eyes as Wade begins to tenderly wrap his ankle. He winces at the pressure of the wrap and realises it might be broken. When Wade is done, Peter leans against the side of the boat and wiggles to pull out the cross.
“I found this in the wall of Burnes’ cell,” Peter says, turning over the object as he stares into the worn wood.
“A crucifix? Why’d he go to such lengths to hide that?” Wade asks as he peers over Peter’s shoulder.
“It’s not a crucifix.” Peter points to the figure’s head. “Notice there’s no crown of thorns.”
“It’s not Jesus.”
Peter turns it over and runs a finger over the words painted on the old wood. “ ‘Digna factis recipimus’ . It means ‘we receive the due rewards of our deeds’. It’s Saint Dismas.”
“Who the hell is that?” Harry asks from the front of the boat.
“Jesus was placed on the cross in between two thieves,” Peter explains, for once glad for all the times May dragged him to various church activities. “One of them mocked Jesus, and the other accepted his punishment with grace. A penitent thief.”
“There’s a Saint Dismas Cathedral in Scotland,” Harry adds, slowing down to a stop when they’re comfortably out of sight of the prison.
“That’s where Avery’s last sighting was,” Wade says. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
“What’s the cross for, though?” Harry asks, grabbing it from Peter’s hands. “It’s broken and hollow.”
“I don’t know.” Peter shrugs. “Maybe it had some sort of message inside? Leading us to Scotland… anyway, we figured that out without it, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Harry gives Peter’s shoulder a tight squeeze, excitement in his voice, “Let’s get to Scotland, boys.”