Hey everybody! Just wanted to thank you for all of the positive feedback I got after the first chapter, your comments really inspire me to keep writing and really made my day every time I read one. Anyways, I didn't mention it in my last chapter, but I'm gonna try for weekly updates in this story! Also, I won't spoil it but I saw Captain Marvel today and it was FANTASTIC! If you haven't seen it yet you should really go watch it!
Anyways, onto the story! Hope you all enjoy this chapter :)
The first thing he saw was a flash from the alley. The second was a man clad in black. A glint of red hair. And then, those damned eyes.
They were the eyes of someone who felt in control. Who knew exactly what was happening and why. They were smug, even without the accompanying smirk. They met with Peter's own, and he couldn't help the twinge of fear in his stomach, his sixth-sense warning him of a danger it was too late to stop. A syringe was plunged into his skin, and this time the man was laughing, a full and cruel sound, as Peter fell to the ground.
The scene around him slowly shifted as he opened his eyes, this time to somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe. Peter smiled, fear easing away. He was in the Avengers compound.
"Hey Pete," Tony's friendly voice cut in. He was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and had little extra pep in his step. The familiarity of the scene was comforting. "Glad that you finally decided to join me for breakfast." He motioned to two plates of pancakes, one already covered in syrup and half-eaten. He sat down in front of them, cutting off another piece and popping it into his mouth. "Or should I say lunch?"
"It's not that late…" Peter grumbled, sitting across from Tony in front of the other plate of pancakes. He yawned, still feeling beat from his patrol the previous evening. Mr Stark raised an eyebrow towards him.
"Uh huh. FRIDAY, remind me, what time is it?"
"It is twelve twenty-three P.M"
"And at what time do people eat lunch?"
"Lunch is typically eaten between twelve and one PM, sir"
Tony shrugged and sipped his coffee. When he brought the mug back down, he had a smirk on his face.
"Shut up-" Peter scoffed, but there was a smile on his face.
"Wha- Kid, I didn't say a word-"
"You know what I mean-"
The casual bickering faded, and Peter turned away from Tony. When he turned back, he was no longer sitting at the dinner table at the compound, but in the lunchroom at Midtown tech...
He and Ned were sitting at their usual spot, at the usual time, but something still felt unusual. While Ned was eating a sandwich, as he usually did, Peter didn't have any food in front of him, but rather a heavy duty notebook covered in thick black pen. As soon as he noticed it, anguish flared inside of him. He knew this booklet all too well. Peter barely even blinked as he grabbed a nearby pen and began adding onto the pages.
A few moments passed, silent except for the scratching of Peter's pen against paper. Ned eyed Peter warily before clearing his throat. "So, uh- Did you hear about the new BB-8 Lego set?" He asked "I was thinking, I uh, have enough money saved up, so we could-"
"Yeah yeah, sounds good-" Peter's eyes were still on his notebook. It was obvious that he had only half-paid attention to what Ned had said. He was too absorbed with all the locations, names, dates- Trying to connect the dots, to figure out why these particular people had gotten kidnapped. There had to be some sort of link, something he wasn't seeing-
Ned frowned. He knew exactly what Peter was doing, and why he was doing it. He'd already seen it happen once before.
"Look, Peter- I know that you're trying to find her, but… You've been working at that all day- Every day- since… I mean, don't you think it might be good to… Y'know… Take a break?"
"I can't, Ned." There was a pause. Peter stopped analyzing the pages for the first time that day. His hands started to shake, and he closed his eyes momentarily. He felt ashamed, like this was his fault. It was his fault. But he couldn't freak out at school, nor let Ned know the extent of what he was feeling- He'd surely try to convince Peter otherwise. Taking a deep breathe to calm himself down, Peter quickly circled something on the page before continuing, still unable to meet his friend's eyes. "I know you're trying to help me, but-"
"How much sleep did you get last night?"
Peter didn't even need to look at Ned to know how worried he was. He knew all too well that even when things had been better Peter hadn't been getting enough sleep, too busy patrolling late at night and trying to stop crimes. But he'd always been able to cover those eyebags a little bit better than the ones he was sporting now.
"Enough." He said, shrugging half-heartedly. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten more than two hours of continuous sleep for weeks, and was typically falling asleep in class, when he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on the material anyways.
Ned sighed, and Peter knew that he didn't believe him. He felt guilty- He knew he was causing his friend unnecessary worry. But not nearly as guilty as when he'd returned home after a visit with Tony to find May gone, the door to his apartment wide open, and a half written note on the table.
Going out to get some groceries. If I'm not back by the time you get home, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge!
Love, Aunt
The 't' had stretched over the page, as if someone had grabbed her while she was writing and she'd jumped in surprise.
Peter had immediately contacted Tony. The police. Gone out patrolling himself. But that had been the last he'd heard from Aunt May.
If he didn't figure this out, it could be the last he'd ever hear from her.
"Peter… It- It's been over a month… Don't you think…"
"I have to find her, Ned." Peter's voice was tight, yet quiet. It was barely audible, but held more intensity and emotion then a sixteen year old should have been capable of wielding. "I have to. I can't just- Just build some lego robot when she's out there- Probably hurt- Pr-Probably-" He stopped mid-sentence, clamping his jaw shut. He wasn't going to cry, or yell, or let any of his emotions get the better of him. Not when he was in the school cafeteria. Not towards Ned.
Ned sighed, looking down. "I know." He said. The words were soft, empathetic, but not pitiful. "I'm just… Worried about you."
Peter nodded. He felt ashamed, knowing his actions were affecting Ned, too, but also knowing he couldn't stop. It was just like when Aunt May had first found out he was Spider-Man.
"I know." He said.
"And I miss you." Ned continued, relaxing slightly. "We haven't hung out since-
"Yeah…" Peter said, voice taking on a cold edge this time. "Yeah. I know."
Ned's face fell, but he seemed to realize that Peter's coolness wasn't meant for him.
The scene soon melted away to reveal a new one- The Parker's apartment in Queens; Peter was now inside of Aunt May and Uncle Ben's old room.
The bedroom had simple cream coloured walls and dark-green bedding. It was pretty plain; Not too much decoration or furniture, just a modest dresser and mirror. On the queen-sized bed, Peter was curled in the fetal position, shaking and letting out heavy sobs. Nobody was there with him, so he didn't hide anything- The snot, the tears, the occasional screams- He was letting it all out, knowing that once he was no longer alone, he wouldn't be able to do so.
In his pale, shaking hands a wooden picture frame was held, an old photo inside.
There were three people in the picture, all dressed in oversized ponchos. It had been raining that day- Peter remembered it well. To the left, there's a man- probably in his early forties- wearing a plaid shirt underneath his clear poncho, with a huge smile on his face. His green eyes were bright despite his drooping wet hair and rain-covered glasses. To the right, a similarly aged woman has her arm around the smiling man, her warm brown eyes filled with light. She had her other hand raised towards the camera in a small wave and you could tell that she was on the edge of laughter.
And between them is a young boy, no older than ten, with arms held high in the air and the most care-free, loving smile on his face. One would think he'd been brought to Disney world, not a rainy day walk with his family.
Six years later, that same boy, now a little less young, is holding onto that photo, looking back on the times when he had no idea the tragedies his makeshift family would face, wondering how on earth this was fair. Why the world would give him such a loving and wonderful family only to take them away; just like that. The boy in the photo is joyful, whereas the teenager looking at it is filled with sorrow.
"I miss you guys…" He chokes out, bringing the photo closer to his chest. He hugs it so tightly that he feels the glass shatter in his embrace, but he still doesn't let go.
After a moment, Peter feels a light breeze brush against him, and looks up to finds himself on a rooftop by a harbor. The tears and photograph are gone, but the millions of emotions stayed swirling in his chest. A different mix, this time- He looked down towards the familiar boat, feeling ashamed and fearful for the people who had been on it- The people he'd failed to save only minutes before.
A boat where they could've died, if Mr. Stark hadn't come to the rescue.
Peter wasn't even sure if everyone had made it out okay.
He heard the slow whirring of thrusters behind him and turned to see an Iron Man suit, a sight he'd become familiar with in the past few months. A year ago, he would have been star-struck at the sight. Asking for a photo, texting Ned a million heart eye emojis- Instead, in present day, he's terrified that the man inside the suit (if he's actually inside it, which Peter doubts) is going to tell him that somebody got hurt- Or worse- because of him. He turns his gaze back towards the ocean, shame rising to an all-time high as Mr. Stark began what Peter knew would be a lecture.
"Previously on Peter screws the pooch," Mr. Stark's voice filled the air, loud and authoritarian, reminding Peter of how new he was at being a superhero when compared to him. "I tell you to stay away from this, instead- You hacked a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back doing the one thing that I told you not to do."
Peter knew he screwed up; He was very aware of that. He was barely processing what Mr. Stark was telling him at that point, a question he was terrified to ask burning in his mind.
"Is everyone okay?" Peter speaks quietly. He's unsure what he'll do if the answer is 'no'.
Mr. Stark paused, and Peter's heart skipped a beat. "No thanks to you."
Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, and he finally felt like he was able to breathe. However, once he knew that everyone was alright, his other emotions began to give way for frustration.
"No thanks to me?" He turned back to face Mr. Stark's suit, pent up anger at all the ignored and brushed off messages he'd given to him and Happy boiling to the surface. "Those weapons are out there and I try to tell you about it but you didn't listen." He looks up at Mr. Stark, frustration turning to anger. "None of this would've happened if you had just listened to me!" Peter shook his head, mad at himself for feeling so upset, knowing Mr. Stark didn't share his degree of concern about the problem. He was probably off gallivanting somewhere, or working on a new suit this very minute-
"If you even cared then you'd actually be here."
Without even a second's hesitation, the suit opened up to reveal Tony Stark, in the flesh. To say Peter felt shocked was an understatement. Mr. Stark took a few steps towards him, his body language still somehow relaxed. He sniffed.
"I did listen, kid." His voice was sincere, and Peter found himself taken aback. "Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Mr. Stark's eyes stared directly into Peter's, filled with frustration, demanding answers that Peter didn't have.
"Did you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen year old kid-"
"I'm fifteen." Peter corrected
"No. This is where you zip-it, the adult is talking." Peter could tell that Mr. Stark was reaching his wits end. He swallowed and did as he was told.
"What if somebody had died tonight?" Peter looked up at Mr. Stark, who's eyes again were stern and angry, yet sincere. "Different story, right? 'Cause that's on you." Peter flinched. Mr. Stark was right; This was all his fault-
"And if you die?" He held his arms outwards before gesturing towards himself. "I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."
Peter had not once considered that. His shoulders sank, the message resonating deep inside of him, loud and clear.
"Yes sir-"
"Yes-"
"I'm sorry-"
"Sorry doesn't cut it." Mr. Stark's voice was firm, and utterly unapologetic.
"I- I just wanted to be like you."
It was true. All that Peter had wanted to do was be a hero- Save lives. Stop the dangerous people from hurting the innocent. He'd been given these powers for a reason, to help- That's what Iron Man did, had been doing for years, and Peter wanted so badly to do the same, knew it was his duty to do the same. To be like Mr. Stark. To be like Iron Man.
"And I wanted you to be better."
Suddenly, Peter noticed the sound of a car whizzing by. He turned to face it, and impulsively jumped away. The car had been driving much too close to the sidewalk for comfort. He looked down to find he was no longer in his suit, but rather a pair of jeans and a science T-shirt. It had an illustration of the periodic table on it and read 'I wear this shirt periodically'. Peter felt puzzled. Hadn't he thrown this one out a while ago…?
Before he could finish his thought, Peter heard three things almost at once. The rip of a gunshot, a cry of pain, and the thump of somebody hitting the ground. He turned towards the commotion, and saw that it was Uncle Ben who had fallen to the ground, blood seeping through his chest.
Peter later wouldn't remember having screamed. All he remembered hearing was the pounding of his heart as he raced towards his Uncle.
He kneeled beside him, and could practically see the life draining from Ben's eyes. The blood was beginning to pool beneath him, and every breath he took sounded and looked like a struggle, his chest just barely rising and falling. In that moment, Peter and Ben were the only people in the world. Nothing else mattered.
"Call 911. CALL 911!" Peter heard himself shout. It didn't sound like his voice; It was too desperate, too detached, to possibly belong to him.
"Sorry, kid." A criminal said, pushing a gun and a wad of cash into his pocket. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." The man ran off without another word. Nobody followed, too fearful of the loaded gun in his pocket.
When Peter saw the thief, when he heard him- Something deep inside of him broke. Something that would never fully mend. All of his current emotions increased ten-fold.
Because that man- The man who had shot Uncle Ben- Was the same robber he'd seen earlier. A robber Peter had been asked to stop. Who he'd brushed aside, thinking that that was something for the police to handle.
He could've stopped him. Easily. Peter looked back towards his Uncle, who's blood continued to stain the sidewalk.
Peter felt himself shaking, so many tears pooling in his eyes that his vision blurred.
He could've stopped this.
"Pete- Listen to me-" Ben wheezed out, grabbing Peter by the arm with surprising strength. His eyes were wide, but accepting- They held no fear.
"I love you, son. Tell your Aunt May that I love her too. More than anything." The words held astute importance; More importance than the dozens upon dozens of other times Peter had heard his Uncle assure him that he loved him; Because this time, they both knew it would be the last. This time, it was a goodbye.
"U-Uncle Ben-" Peter choked up, blinking away the rapidly falling tears. No, no, no no no- He couldn't do this again- First his parents, and now-
"Remember what I taught you, son- With great power, comes great responsibility."
"N-No- Uncle Ben-"
"I love you, Peter."
Ben's gaze fell and his eyes glazed over. The man who had taught Peter how to ride a bike, who had drove him to his first day of high school, who had laughed with him and talked with him, through hardships and sorrow, through joy and fun- Who was supposed to be there when he learned to drive a car, graduated, got his first job- Was now lifeless on a sidewalk in Queens; The bullet in his chest from a gun Peter could've easily taken away earlier that afternoon.
"NO!"
Peter felt a sudden rush of pain on his left arm. He spotted a a small black and green spider, with its fangs dug deep into his skin. As soon as it released, the creature fell to the ground, dead.
It was at this moment that Peter realized he was dreaming.
As soon as he thought it, his eyes shot open, and he was rapidly brought back to the waking world. Harsh lights shone down upon Peter, who groaned in reply. A heavy dizziness settled itself in his head.
He took a moment to gather himself, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his best to wane off the vertigo. He took a few deep breaths before blinking his eyes open again, and was pleasantly surprised to find the lights a little less jarring this time around.
He was still reeling from the dream- Nightmare? He wasn't sure. Whichever it was, Peter felt as though it held some sort of astute importance. He couldn't place why, but the feeling staying strong and heavy in his gut. He tried to recall what had happened to try and explain it, but found that he couldn't. All the details were gone. All he could remember was a spider, some blurry faces, a scream, and-
The harder he tried to focus on it, the blurrier it became. All he was certain he'd seen now was the spider; Without context, that could mean anything. He wouldn't be getting any help from online dream interpreters solving this one.
With his curious dream abandoned, Peter turned his focus to his current surroundings, which were almost more confusing. He wordlessly propped himself into a sitting position as he looked around, taking in a room that most certainly wasn't his. The ceiling was higher, the walls whiter, and the place was filled with all sorts of fancy machines that definitely weren't from one of Peter's technology dumpster dives. There was a high-tech computer in the corner, some large screens propped onto rolling platforms, and closest to him, a steadily beeping heart monitor. The only non-technological objects in the room were a tall plant in the far left corner, and the bed he was sitting on. Although at this point he wouldn't be surprised if either of them started to beep and explain that they were 'scanning' him or something.
Peter knew that he must be in a hospital, and the fact that he was dressed in a hospital gown confirmed it. He just didn't know why. He also spotted an IV and other bits of machinery attached to his arm and hand. That sparked some panic. It must have been something serious if all this had been necessary.
Peter also had no recollection of the events leading up to this particular ER visit. He'd only been in a hospital once before, when he was seven and was dared to climb a tree, but wound up falling and breaking his arm. So it definitely wasn't a related trip. The two visits felt nothing alike- The anxious twitch in his heart remained the same, sure, but the last time he'd remembered walking through the front door. This time around, all he could remember was going to sleep after a normal dinner with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Had he had a heart attack in his sleep? Or stopped breathing, somehow? Had he swam that day and begun to second-hand drown?
His thoughts were soon interrupted as the door to the ward opened. A short woman wearing blue doctor scrubs walked into the room, clipboard in hand and a smile on her face. Peter was surprised to find himself tense at the sight. This was good- The woman was a doctor. This meant he would be getting some answers.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Parker." She said with a smile, before holding out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Dr. Cho. I've been taking care of you and making sure that everything's in order."
Peter slowly took her hand, the twitch of anxiety morphing into a heart-hammering sensation. He was still feeling extremely overwhelmed, but the idea of finding out what had happened to him- Something that was so bad he'd needed an IV, not to mention a heart monitor- was terrifying. He wished his Aunt and Uncle were here, and found himself wondering where they were… When he'd broken his arm all that time ago, they'd been with him the whole time-
"Do I have to go in there by myself?" He asked, looking at the hospital through the car window. Everything was too big here, too scary, and definitely not somewhere the seven year old wanted to be. He had his left arm cradled against his chest, and tears stung at his eyes from the pain. Peter had never been to a hospital, only seen one on TV; He remembered waking up from a nightmare once, only six years old, looking for his Aunt and Uncle for comfort. They'd been watching a medical show at the time, and Peter had seen bits and pieces of it. He remembered shouting, and images of people being forcibly taken away from their families on stretchers, where the doctors had weirdly shaped metal tools that they used to pick and prod at the patient. Aunt May explained to Peter after that it was only because they couldn't help any other way, and it didn't hurt the person since they were unconscious, but Peter wasn't thinking about that part. All he could picture were strangers wearing surgical masks hovering above his arm, holding out different metal tools they planned to stick inside of him.
Peter shuddered, and pulled his arm a little closer to his chest.
"Of course not, Peter." May's voice interrupted his thoughts. She had decided to sit in the backseat with him on the drive, to comfort him and distract him from the pain. "We'll be there with you the whole time."
She ran a hand through his hair and smiled warmly at him, which made Peter feel a little better, but he could still only manage a weak smile in response.
Uncle Ben pulled them into the nearest parking spot, and as soon as the car was stopped, he undid his seatbelt and turned around to face Peter. He looked him in the eye, and spoke words that Peter would never forget.
"Pete, whenever you're hurting, we're always going to be there with you. Even if we can't be in the room with you, we'll always be right here." He pointed towards Peter's heart. "Our thoughts, our love, will be with you even in times where we can't be." His eyes traced downwards. He swallowed before looking back up. "Just like your parents are always with you. They're right here, right now." This time, Ben pointed towards his own heart. Peter mimicked the gesture with his good hand.
"Right here." Peter said. The moment was bittersweet; Peter missed his parents dearly, but he couldn't have asked for a better surrogate family. Ben smiled, then turned his gaze towards May, who's hand was on her husband's shoulder over the front seat. Their eyes met, and it seemed to Peter as though they had shared some sort of telepathic message. After a moment, Ben cleared his throat before addressing Peter.
"Alright- Now, let's go and get your arm all fixed up, shall we?"
In present time, Peter absent-mindedly placed his hand over his heart, the index finger thrumming nervously.
"Uh, are my Aunt and Uncle here?" He blurted out. "May and Ben Parker?" Dr. Cho blinked in surprise.
It was then that Peter realized she'd already been speaking, and he had completely interrupted. His eyes widened and he felt heat rise up to his cheeks.
When he was met with silence, however, Peter's embarrassment was forgotten. Instead of answering him, the doctor was rapidly scribbling in her notebook. When she finally looked back up again, her eyes were holding barely-concealed sympathy.
Peter knew that look.
His heart dropped to his stomach. He may have only been four when his parents had died, but he remembered that look.
An inappropriate laugh arose in his chest, almost as if his body didn't know how to cope with what was going on around him. No- No, he must be misreading it. He was misreading it. They were fine. Probably just getting food. They'd walk through the door any minute now, smiles on their faces, maybe a sandwich for him in Ben's hand.
"Do they know I'm here?" He asked, thinking of another reason they might be absent. Before Dr. Cho even had a chance to respond, Peter felt his panic begin to rise. In his stupor, he didn't notice himself grab the metal bar by his bedside.
"Peter, I need you to breathe." Dr. Cho's voice was calm and slow, and would've been grounding had Peter been paying it any mind. The beeping of his heart monitor accelerated.
"Peter, focus on me. Breathe in, and out. In, and out." Dr Cho instructed, her voice sharper this time. She placed a hand on his shoulder, which helped snap him out of it. Peter tried his best to obey her instructions.
He reminded himself of how when he'd first gone to live with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, he'd thought every time one of them had left the room that they must've died. The panic that had absorbed him in those moments was similar to what he was feeling now. But they had always come back, no matter his doubts.
They would come back.
They had to.
"Good, keep breathing."
The heart monitor returned to a steady pace, and Peter turned back to Dr. Cho, who was smiling warmly at him, seemingly pleased that he'd managed to calm down so quickly.
As Peter relaxed, he released his grip on the bar at his side, and was startled by the resulting clang. He looked down to see the metal bar he'd been holding onto had been ripped from his bedside, and was now lying on the floor.
"What the hell-" He felt a completely different, new kind of panic rise in his chest. Had he-? He wasn't supposed to be able to do that. Nobody was supposed to be able to do that.
Peter would've thought that maybe it had been rusty and broken easily, or something, except he could see the jagged lines around where the metal had pulled apart. That meant it had taken force.
Dr. Cho grabbed the metal from the floor before retreating from the room, leaving Peter alone. She had spoken to him before she left, but he hadn't processed the words, only nodded reluctantly. His gaze was still on his shaking hand, that had just seemingly pried metal apart as if it were paper.
He stayed that way, in a strange sort of trance, for what felt like hours. He was only broken out of it when he heard a soft, familiar voice.
"Peter?"
Peter looked upwards, and felt a flood of emotions he couldn't quite name. It felt somewhat like relief, but with a heaviness to it that relief didn't usually carry. Whatever it was, it calmed him down, so he counted it as positive.
Ned was standing at the doors, eyes puffy and slightly reddened. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and cracked a smile. "You're okay!"
Before Peter could say a thing, Ned had rushed over and enveloped him up in a hug, which Peter returned with ease. This is normal, he thought to himself, warmth spreading through him, jagged metal pushed to the back of his mind. He guiltlessly let himself relish in the comfort of familiarity. This is normal.
"Yeah… I'm okay." Peter decided not to think too hard about the definition of 'Okay'. He was breathing, so, y'know, that was something. "I'm- uh, I'm still not sure what exactly happened to me?" He admitted. He felt a little embarrassed when he realized he hadn't actually asked what had happened yet. The two broke apart from the hug, and with a little hesitance, he decided to change that. "Hey, uh, what did happen?"
Dr. Cho, who had re-entered shortly after Ned, took over the conversation at that point. "We aren't entirely certain, Mr. Parker." She said tentatively. "You collapsed a few days ago, and have been unconscious for roughly 36 hours. We believe that you may have been drugged, and that it's affected your long-term memory."
Peter blinked, unsure what to make of this. He was aghast. He'd been unconscious for an entire day and a half. Was- Was that considered a coma? And drugged? Him? He was just a kid from Queens! It wasn't like he had any money or power; which, in his experience (which was really just watching a lot of movies), was usually why people got drugged.
The memory loss, however, made a surprising amount of sense. He didn't remember a thing about how he'd gotten here, or the time leading up to it. The night before (that he realized now probably wasn't actually the night before) had seemed extremely ordinary, and not like a time when he would get hurt, or drugged, or anything of the sort. He let himself feel relieved. At least how confused he was made sense now.
But it rose another alarming question. He swallowed before asking it. "How much did I forget?"
Dr Cho sighed. "We aren't certain. Before I can deduce that, I'll have to ask you a few questions." She pulled out her clipboard again, placing it on her lap. "Now- What's the last thing you remember?"
"Having dinner with my Aunt and Uncle, and then going to sleep." He said. "Oh, and it was a school night- I dunno exactly what night, or if that even makes a difference- Wait, what day is it today?"
"Today is Sunday," Dr. Cho replied nonchalantly. Peter didn't miss that she didn't tell him the actual date. She must have done that on purpose. His heart, against Peter's will, starting to race again. Something wasn't right-
He turned to Ned, wondering if he had picked up on Dr. Cho's strange choice of words, and was surprised to see his friend had gone extremely pale. "Ned?" He asked, growing concerned. He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Are you okay?"
Ned nodded, but he didn't meet Peters eyes. After a moment, he plastered a smile on his face and looked towards Peter, but continued to avoid eye contact as much as he could.
"Y-Yeah! I'm uh- Just fine, totally- totally gnarly."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Gnarly?" Ned had never used the word as an adjective, and he was blabbing; Which was usually a dead give away that he was hiding something.
"Yeah?" He said it like a question, not a reassurance "I mean, uh- Yeah. Just- Gnarly."
He smiled widely at Peter. Peter squirmed under his gaze. Ned wasn't telling him something. And he told Peter everything. Something big was definitely wrong. Peter wasn't being told the full story. His thoughts returned back to Uncle Ben and Aunt May, but were soon interrupted by Dr. Cho-
"Do you remember any other details? The date? Or something going on at that time? Or that you were looking forward too?"
Peter screwed up his face, thinking hard, subconsciously pleased to have a distraction. It all felt like such a blur- He couldn't remember the details. It had been a simple, ordinary day… Breakfast, school- Oh!
"My math test got postponed because of a field trip to a science exhibition that was happening the next day- Does that help at all?" Helene nodded before writing this down. Peter felt his chest deflate at the realization. He'd been really excited for that trip, and had probably been unconscious for the whole thing.
"Oh, man, I missed the field trip, didn't I?"
"You were there…" Ned replied. Peter would've felt stupid hearing the correction because, duh, memory loss, if he hadn't been so shaken by how his friend had answered. Enthusiastic, science and tech obsessed Ned had spoken so quietly Peter almost hadn't heard it. He turned towards him, feeling a shiver go down his spine. Peter had been expecting him to launch into a spiel about all the cool stuff they had learnt, then apologize for making Peter feel worse that he'd missed it, but he stayed silent.
Before he could question Ned about it, he was asked another question by Dr. Cho. "Now, how's your head feeling? Is there any pain at all?"
"Uh, a little bit of a headache, but that's it… " Dr. Cho nodded at his response, once again writing it down. Peter was still confused about, well, everything, but particularly how he had been so affected while feeling so unaffected (physically, at least).
"Well, everything seems to be in order, then. Now that you're awake, and decently stable, you won't be needing that IV anymore." She walked over to him and began to remove the IV, as well as the other wires that had been attached to Peter, all the while Ned was still avoiding his gaze.
Once she was finished, Dr. Cho grabbed her clipboard and gave him and Ned a small smile. "I'll leave you two be for a few minutes." She said, walking out of the room.
"Thanks…" Peter replied softly. He didn't think she'd heard him, but that wasn't his main concern right then. He turned towards Ned. The atmosphere felt a little awkward. Neither of them really knew what to say in this situation, and while Peter had a million questions, he wasn't sure where to start, or if Ned would even know the answers to them. Some of them Peter was afraid to know the answers to.
After a moment, Peter decided on a question that wasn't too heavy, that he knew Ned could answer. "So… Did I miss much school?"
Ned cracked a smile, and a little tension dispersed. "You're in the hospital with memory loss, and your first thought is school?"
"Well, I don't want to get behind. If I miss the deadline for one of Ms. West's projects, I'll end up in detention for the rest of the year."
"Y'know, most of the time after you say something I'm not expecting, it's because it's something badass. But that was, quite possibly, the least badass thing I've ever heard you say."
Peter laughed, brushing aside the fact he was certain he'd never said anything badass in his life, in favour of the fact that the awkwardness between him and Ned was now completely gone, the two settling back into normalcy. "Really?" He asked "Even less badass than the time I slept over at your house and we were studying chemistry, so I decided to recreate the rap version of the periodic table, while using your mom's hair-brush as a fake microphone? Nevermind the corresponding dance routine?" Peter supposed that moment wasn't about something he had said, but paid the technicalities no mind.
"Please, that rendition was legendary. Beyoncé wishes she had what you have."
Peter and Ned paused before bursting out with laughter, so hard that their chests hurt and they were tearing up. It was a nice moment, and once again Peter felt himself comforted by the familiarity of it. But it wasn't long before how unusual their current situation was once again dawned for both boys. Peter found himself rubbing the place on his arm where the IV had been only minutes ago. Ned's lips twitched into a frown and the tears continued to fall from his eyes, even once the laughter ceased.
He sniffled, unable to meet Peter's eyes. "I was… I was so scared when we got the call that you were hurt." Ned admitted, eyes filled with a type of worry that Peter wasn't used to seeing from him, someone who was usually so care-free and excited about all things dangerous. "We- We weren't sure you were gonna-" A small sob escaped from Ned's throat. Peter's chest felt tight with shock- He hadn't realized that he'd- He'd almost died. A heavy guilt also resided in his gut- He hadn't meant to make Ned so worried.
"But- I'm okay. See?" Peter said, gesturing at himself. "Confused and forgetful sure, but I've been confused and forgetful my whole life."
Ned let out a chuckle, and Peter's chest felt a little lighter. "Yeah… So long as you don't forget to make all the newest Lego Star Wars sets with me."
"Never. What set are we on, anyways?" Peter couldn't quite remember the last time him and Ned had gotten together to add onto their Lego collection.
"We were in the middle of building the Millennium Falcon. We've been working on it for months. You've been so busy that we've barely even had the time to get together lately."
Peter felt as though his heart had ceased beating. He didn't remember starting that one. For a moment, the world stopped.
"Months?"
Peter hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until he saw Ned's eyes widen.
"Uh- I-I mean-"
"Ned…" Peter asked, feeling apprehensive. "What day is it today…?"
Ned swallowed hard. "It's Sunday."
There it was. Unspecified. Sunday.
But which Sunday?
"Ned, what day is it?" He repeated, more urgently this time. He needed to know how much time he'd lost.
Ned twitched, but his mouth remained firmly shut.
"Ned!"
The door opened, and Peter was about to turn his frustration to Dr. Cho. But this time, it wasn't her.
Holy shit.
A man who Peter had seen many times on TV was standing in the doorframe. While it was unquestionably who Peter thought he was, Peter was shocked at his current appearance. All the times he'd been on the news, he'd either been savvily dressed in fancy suits and jackets, with perfectly combed hair and sunglasses that probably cost more than Peter's entire wardrobe, or flying through the sky like a red and gold missile. Now, the only portion of the man that remained the same as it did in the press was his trademark goatee; He was wearing, rather than a suit, a ratty pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt that Peter noticed had what looked like a flour stain on it. His dark hair was messy and strands were sticking out all over the place.
Where the general public (of which Peter was a part of) usually saw a satisfied smirk and confident eyes, now the man looked like he was holding back tears.
Peter squeaked in surprise, unable to form words.
"Oh, thank god-"
Without another word, the man raced towards him and wrapped Peter in a tight hug, a hand on his head. Peter's arms stayed firmly at his sides, his entire body frozen in shock.
"Never, ever, do that again, kid." He whispered. His voice was filled with a rough sincerity. One that he would not be holding had Peter been a stranger.
Peter couldn't believe his eyes, ears, or anything that was happening. Tony freakin' Stark was here. Hugging him.
Tony-
His mind felt as though it were on a leash. So close to a memory that it could see it, but not quite close enough to touch it.
Peter barely noticed as his arms and legs went nearly numb. He felt as though his awareness of just about everything was slipping out of his grasp. It was an out-of body experience, but he didn't know where he'd gone.
His eyes slipped into the back of his head, and he was once again plunged into darkness.