As is his new normal now, Peter sits at the top of the tallest building he can find with his mask off. He doesn't venture further down on the streets without his mask, but when he's alone with no chance he'll be watched he relishes in the freedom of nothing constricting his mouth and making it hard to breathe. Sometimes he wishes he could talk to Karen without his mask; Peter can trick himself into thinking she's a real human most of the time and his loneliness starts to ebb away when he talks to her.
It's not that he's alone - far from it, in fact. He has Ned and MJ and May (and, occasionally, Mr Stark), so he's not alone. But there's something about dying on an alien planet, literally turning to dust, and being able to feel it that carries a certain air of isolation about it. No matter how many hugs he gets from May and sarcastic teasing from MJ and just pure, unadulterated, amazing best-friendliness he gets from Ned, he can't shake what happened on Titan.
He's not alone, but he's lonely.
And on top of that, his Spider-Sense (as dubbed by Ned) has been going haywire. He's not sure what it even is at the best of times, but he's pretty sure it's not meant to alert him of danger when there is no danger (see: lying in bed getting ready to fall asleep - unless it can sense his upcoming nightmares but, come on, he doubts it). He isn't even sure if it can malfunction but it definitely seems to be doing so. The worst part is the pain that comes along with a severely malfunctioning Spider-Sense, because when it senses that he's going to be near death it is the strangest most painful feeling in the world. And when he's already felt it once before he turned to dust, it's just another in a long list of reminders about what happened.
Police sirens reverberate in his head (his senses aren't at eleven anymore, either, Peter's noticed. They're more like fifty - and that's on a good day) and he swiftly pulls on his mask.
"Karen-"
"Peter, your heart rate is 110 beats per minute."
Peter sighed (he could feel that for himself, thanks Karen). "Where are the police headed?" he asks, getting up from the roof and positioning himself on the edge of the building, ready to swing down.
"I recommend you sit down, Peter, and get your heart rate slower."
"Karen, please just tell me." He was not interested in this part of the AI's system. He was all for tricking himself into thinking she was human, but he didn't want another May or Mr Stark. So what if his heart rate was elevated, it wasn't new and it certainly wasn't dangerous (he chooses to ignore the times when it certainly was dangerous and he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest and his lungs felt like they constricted so much he couldn't physically breathe, because he's Peter Parker, he's Spider-Man and he's fine).
"There are reports of an armed robbery on Parsons Boulevard, five individuals with guns."
(He really hates guns.) "Thanks, Karen," he says as he leaps off the building and slings a web to the adjacent building.
"You're welcome, Peter."
_.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._
He gets there in record time (hah, take that police) and doesn't wait for the cops to catch up. He lands (not-so) gracefully in front of the building and comes face to face with a freaking gun.
"Well, that's not scary at all."
His Spider-Sense triggers a buzzing in his head and as he leaps to his right he feels the bullet graze his left leg. He clenches his teeth from the sudden pain; he should have moved out of the way quicker, he shouldn't have been hit. Spider-Man does not get hit.
A second bullet flies towards him and he jumps out of the direct firing path, feeling another jolt in his shoulder. He knows he's been sluggish recently, dropping the ball on many occasions, but two for two is ridiculous.
"Maybe we could, um, put the gun down, dude?" He flings a web to the building behind the man, pulling himself to rest on the side of the building, above the guy with the gun. "I'm not your own personal shooting range."
The man spins his gaze to Peter but Peter's quicker this time and he shoots a web right at the gun and pulls it right from his hands. Webbing it to the building (far from where anyone can reach it), he flings a second web at the man on the ground, rooting his feet firmly down. A third flies to bind his hands together and a fourth webs his mouth shut, quicker than he cold even blink. (Except he did blink, more than once, and Peter knows he's being far too slow.)
He hears the nearing of sirens and knows he's got another thirty seconds before the area really does become a shooting range, and he flies in through the window, smashing it into pieces (he can't help making an entrance sometimes, but also glass… ouch). "Hey, guys. You need a better lookout."
Three guns turn to point at him and Peter's Spider-Sense is almost so loud and constant it's become background noise, but that doesn't stop the pain spiking his head as it rings incessantly. At least it's not malfunctioning now. There's definitely danger and he can definitely feel it.
"Hey, hey now, guys. Let's not overreact."
A bullet flies past him as he leaps to the left and webs one of the men to the wall behind (sometimes Peter's surprised by the force of which the webs leave his shooters), snatching his gun and webbing it to the ceiling as he does.
"Peter, your two bullet wounds are ser-"
"Kind of busy, Karen."
"The police are twenty seconds away, I recommend you wait for back-up."
He dodges two more bullets (and Karen's instructions) and decides to shut his mouth for the rest of it. His Spider-Sense won't shut up and it's making it harder to think. He works mainly on instinct for the next twenty seconds. The man webbed to the wall exclaims all sorts of curses as he tries to get free and Peter thanks the universe that he's focused on that and not trying to kill him.
The other two still try to shoot at him (seriously - because that worked so well for the first two) and the fifth and final man seems intent on continuing on with the robbery (dude, priorities).
He tries to keep dodging the bullets from the men (yes, Spider-Sense, he's aware there's danger) and he's sure he's unsuccessful a few times, but his body is running purely on adrenaline now and it's the best pain reliever he knows of. His body has a dull ache running through it as he flips and spins through the air, trying to web up the rest of the men (at least the final one has finally stopped trying to rob the bank, like come on dude you weren't exactly going to be successful, were you) before the police arrive. He's not interested in their preferred method of attack - he'd much rather get the guns out of the way before they turn up so they're not lethal criminals. Criminals work just as well. He feels the butt of a gun connect with his back (how did he miss that?) and can't stop his natural defence kicking in and his fist connecting with the man's cheek behind him.
He isn't sure how many bullets he dodges (some so close he can feel them damage the suit) or how many fists and feet that hurtle towards him, but his Spider-Sense hasn't become any quieter or painful and Peter knows he just has to keep going and get the guns away.
And when the twenty seconds are up, Peter swings away from the scene. Five men are webbed to the wall or the ground, with their hands bound. Five guns are webbed to a wall or a ceiling, safely out of reach.
He's done his job.
_.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._.-._.-._-._
"Karen," he gasps, the fight catching up with him as he falls back onto the roof and shuts his eyes. "What are my injuries?"
"You have a bullet in your left shin, your left scapula-"
"Wait, wait wait," he says hurriedly, his eyes snapping open, sitting up straight and grabbing his leg, examining the wound. "In my leg? I thought it just grazed it!"
"No, Peter. The bullet is approximately two centimeters deep into your shin."
Ah, Peter thinks, so that's why it's been hard walking.
"Okay." He sighs deeply. That is not good. So, totally not good. While he's not completely against the idea of trying to remove the bullets himself, he knows he physically won't be able to do it properly. By all means, he wants to try; anything to avoid the inevitable. After all, he can't go to a normal hospital as he's not exactly human which means he has to ask his mentor for help.
Peter considers leaving them in, knowing that's a possibility, but he can't exactly get an x-ray machine from dumpster diving to see whether it's probable. He sighs again. It'll be okay. His healing will take care of the clotting soon and then he can clean himself up and go to Mr Stark looking more presentable and less like he'd just walked out of his own coffin.
He shudders (why did his mind think about his death, goddammit). "What else?" he says eventually.
"You have lacerations on your cheek, right forearm and upper back-"
"Yep."
"-and multiple contusions."
Peter hums to himself, knowing that's exactly why he's beginning to feel so weak, but that's not his concern. He's got two bullets lodged in his body. He shouldn't be that slow, that bad at fighting normal people who don't have spider powers or Spider-Sense. He should have walked away with next to nothing, instead he gets this.
"Would you like me to contact Mr Stark?"
Definitely not. "No, no. I'll be fine."
"I've been programmed to get help when you're this injured, Peter," Karen insists.
"It's fine, Karen. I'm okay."
If AIs could roll their eyes, he's sure Karen just did so. "Contacting Mr Sta-"
"Karen! No, no, no!" He hears the dialing tone. "No, Karen, hang up. I'm fine, please, Karen, I'm-"
"Hey, Kid."
Peter rips off the mask, ending the call instantly. The absence of Karen makes him suddenly feel lonely but he can't risk Mr Stark seeing him like this, sat on a rooftop, bleeding and shaking. He can't have Mr Stark seeing him so weak. He's Spider-Man.
He sighs, closing his eyes and focusing on the pain in his body to ground his floaty mind. He's really starting to feel the sensation of the bullets in his shoulder and leg now, a tingling and lightning sensation at the same time. His Spider-Sense hasn't calmed down and he knows that there's no danger which means it's malfunctioning again (if it can malfunction? Maybe he should look into that). His haywire senses start to make his whole body tingle, and then it starts getting painful.
And then the memories come crashing down much like the tiredness did earlier on, and suddenly he can't breathe.
Pain radiates throughout his body and he's unsure if it's real or imaginary but he doesn't care because it hurts and he's alone and he's going to die. He's going to turn to ash like Mantis and Drax and Quill and Dr Strange and he's going to crumble and fade and disappear and he's going to die.
His body falls back and hits the ground beneath him and he doesn't feel the pain that should have come, it's no more than a dull thud and his hand presses the spider on his chest instinctively. He needs to breathe, he needs to get whatever is constricting him off him but it doesn't help and he still can't breathe.
He hears someone gasping for air and his own lungs burn and his heart feels like it's going to rip through his ribcage and jump through his chest. The horrible gasping turns into choked and breathless sobs but he can't have it in him to go to the person to help when all he feels is millions of needles jabbing into his body and it hurts. It hurts so much.
He rolls ungracefully onto his side and coughs forcefully, feeling something blocking his lungs, blocking his trachea, blocking blocking blocking. And it's ash, he's sure. He's disintegrating from the inside first and it's choking him.
He accidentally glances to the left and he sees the sun and it nearly blinds him so he screws his eyes shut tightly and he hears a noise, a loud, grinding noise like metal and it's too loud and there's too much input and there's too much, there's too much, toomuchtoomuch.
Then he realises those noises, those awful sobs and gasps are coming from him and he nearly throws up because he can't breathe and he's dying and it hurts and he's all alone.
"Pete?" Tony Stark's voice cuts through everything like a warm knife through butter and suddenly he's not alone, he's safe, he's with Mr Stark and he'll protect him and hold him like he did on Titan but he can't because on Titan, Peter faded away, he turned to ash, he dissolved and Mr Stark couldn't stop it so how could he stop it now when he couldn't the-
"Peter, listen to me."
His mind follows the command because it's easier than thinking.
"I need you to open your eyes, okay?"
But that's not a command and he can't and he doesn't want to think and he can't think. There's too much, there's too much it's too loud and bright and there's not enough air and he's running out of air.
"Peter, open your eyes."
He does. He cracks them open and it's too bright and he squeezes them shut but Mr Stark tells him to once more and when he does Mr Stark is there. He's sat with the sun on his back and a shadow is cast over Peter and it's not too bright and it's okay.
"Can you breathe for me, kid? Take a deep breath."
But he can't because there's ash and dust and he can't. But he tries because Mr Stark tells him to and Mr Stark is Ironman and Mr Stark knows what he's doing.
He chokes on a sob and clutches his neck because it feels like someone is choking him, cutting off his air supply and it hurts and he can't breathe!
Strong, large hands grasp his own and pulls them away from his neck, holding them tightly and Peter focuses on them rather than the pain that is radiating all over his body. They're warm and Mr Stark and safe.
"Take another deep breath. I know it's hard but you just have to do it. It'll be okay."
He tries, he really does try, but he can't because he can't. So he focuses back on Mr Stark's hands holding his own and he focuses on the feel of them. He can feel the roughness that show how hard he's worked. He can feel the warmth and the trembles (then he realises he's the one trembling) and it's Mr Stark.
"Kid?"
He chokes on a sob again and managed to look up at his mentor's face. He tries to speak. His mouth opens. All that comes out is a keening sound.
Mr Stark looks at him and supports him into a sitting position. There's worry in his forehead but he smiles in a way that reassures Peter. His hands hold Peter's tighter as if he knows that it's what Peter is grounding himself on. "Okay, breathing exercises not good then. Tell me what you learned in class, kid. Or even better still, what you knew already and everyone else learnt."
Peter's eyes try and focus on Mr Starks face and they act like an unfocused camera. Momentarily focused and uselessly zooming in until they unfocus once more. He opens his mouth again. He feels Mr Stark's hands and he starts to feel the cold ground beneath him and there's a slight wind and it cools him down and it feels like he's sweating.
"I-Insp-" he gasps, "pira-ation."
He smiles again. "Yeah? And what's that?"
"Br-eath-thing i-in." He hears his own voice. He's alive. His lungs must be working because he's talking so there's nothing in them. "U-use-s i-int-ter-co-stal m-musc-les. D-di-diaph-ragm."
Mr Stark's hands squeeze his own and he chuckles slightly. "Of course you'd talk about breathing. That's what you're doing, Peter. You're breathing in. You're using your own intercostal muscles and your diaphragm is helping and - well, anatomy wasn't my best subject but - your ribcage is moving because you're breathing in. And out. And in again."
Peter tries to nod. He thinks he manages it. "M-Mr Sss-tark? D-don'-t w-want t-to die." Because that's what's happening. He's dying, he's sure he is. He is, isn't he?
"You won't die, Pete. You're having a panic attack."
Oh. That… makes a lot of sense. He's had them before, just… this is a bad one. A very bad one.
"P-pan-nic-," he coughs roughly, not able to finish his question.
"Yeah. A panic attack. I know it's scary but it will pass, okay? You just need to focus."
Peter looks up a him, pleading with him to understand what's happening.
"I know it's hard, Pete. God, I know. But you've just got to focus. You feel how cold the ground is beneath you?"
Peter looks at the grey and slightly bumpy ground, his body feeling the chill it provides.
"And this."
One of Mr Stark's hands leave his own and rubs one of his arms, up and down, up and down, up and down.
Peter nods jerkily. "Mhm."
The hand still holding his own brings one of his hands to Mr Stark's chest. "Feel my chest moving, kid. You feel that?"
Peter zones his vision to his mentor's chest. He watches his hand rise and fall with each exaggerated breath. He feels the movement beneath his fingertips and palm. It's rhythmic, constant, the same two things. Up and down, over and over. It's easier to let his mind hone in on that, to focus his senses on seeing and feeling that, then everything else.
So Mr Stark guides him through with each movement and soon Peter feels his own breathing slow and the dust in his lungs disappear. He falls backwards onto the ground, overcome by a wave of tiredness. Mr Stark is holding tightly to one of his hands that rests against his chest but Peter lets the muscles go limp. He can still feel the shudders running through his body and he's sure it's the adrenaline that's preventing him from feeling the pain of his actual, real-life wounds.
"Jesus, Peter. You're lucky I could trace that call."
Peter just lets his eyes close as he slips into darkness.
told you it would get gritty haha. i can't write fight scenes please forgive me, also all my knowledge of the geography of america is from google maps... forgive me #2 (this would have been out much earlier had i not stressed over the awful awful fight scene turns out i didn't think writing for this fandom through considering the amount of fighting ahh regret is nice)
next chapter out within the next week because i'm allergic to pre-writing stories and therefore write as i go (10/10 would not recommend)