Chapter Sixteen
Peter was sitting in the large, comfy chair in his room. Tony sat beside him in a less comfortable looking chair. Peter had the MP3 player going, and Tony was fiddling with his phone again. They weren't talking, but Peter didn't mind. The day had been a struggle, and the quiet was nice. He'd had a hard session in PT that left his arms and chest sore, but it was worth it. He felt like he was helping himself somehow instead of just lying there and watching life slip past.
He picked up his glass of water and sipped it, wetting his lips. His mouth was dry again, and the water only helped a little. They said it was a side-effect of the Prozac they'd put him on, along with nausea. The doctor had suggested he suck on ice chips to help. That was something he could do on his own, but it would look strange to Tony, and he didn't want to raise any flags.
Drinking so much water had another side effect, though, a slightly embarrassing one. He'd have to empty his bladder again, and he still hadn't quite gotten the hang of doing it alone, so someone had to watch which was mortifying. At least it wasn't Tony watching. He didn't think he could bear that.
The door opened, and Tony looked up from his phone, brow furrowed.
A kid was being wheeled in by a nurse, followed by a young woman with a bag in her hands. Peter observed as the kid was brought to the bed.
The boy turned to Peter, grinning widely. "Hi, I'm Harrison."
Peter was wary, but May raised him to be polite. He smiled back. "Peter."
"Harrison is your new roommate, Peter."
Tony watched Peter closely, and Peter had to be careful to hide his emotions. He wasn't happy about the idea of sharing, but he couldn't show that and upset the kid. He seemed nice enough, and if the wheelchair was anything to go by, he already had problems of his own.
Peter was shocked when the kid was lifted out of the chair and settled in the bed. His legs hanging useless, just like Peter's did, which meant he was paralyzed, too.
He thought about how hard it must be to be that young and be stuck in a chair. Peter was sixteen and struggling. This kid was at least a few years younger than him.
The kid was settled, and his mom sat beside him on the edge of the bed. She took a bunch of coloring books and crayons out of the bag and set them on the table in front of the boy.
The kid ignored them and looked at Peter, eyes searching. Peter didn't like the feeling of being studied like he was on display. He wished he was back in bed, so he could pretend to sleep and avoid the whole thing.
Tony seemed to sense the problem as he cleared his throat and said, "You want to head out for a while, Pete? You could have a ride out to the coffee cart. I'll buy you a donut."
Peter was tempted, but that meant Tony would see him being transferred into the chair, the way his legs hung useless, and he'd avoided that so far. He knew Tony wouldn't care, that it wouldn't change anything, but Peter didn't want it yet.
"No, I'm good."
"What's wrong with you?" Harrison asked.
The boy's mother scolded him. "Harri, that's rude!" She turned to Peter. "I'm sorry. He's always been inquisitive, and I think he's made it his mission since we arrived to find out the diagnosis of everyone in the hospital."
"It's fine," Peter said, careful not to show pain in his voice. "I had a fall and hurt my back."
"Paralyzed?" the kid asked.
"Harrison!"
"It's okay. Yeah, I am."
"Me too," Harrison said brightly. "We had a car crash when I was seven, and we flipped." He grinned like he wasn't talking about how he lost the use of his legs. "It was pretty cool, but my back got broke, so I'm in a chair now. I had to come back because they're doing something, so I can poop without the bag."
His mother was apologetic and shushing Harrison, but Peter was listening now. When he'd needed the toilet, he'd had to use a bedpan. He thought that sucked, but the idea of having a poop bag stuck to him like his neighbor Mr. Rosetti had before he died would be much worse.
"That sounds good," Peter said.
"Yeah. It'll be great. That thing sucks." He finally turned his attention from Peter to Tony and stared at him for a moment. "I know you."
Tony smirked. "I don't think so, kid."
Harrison beamed. "No! I do. You're Iron Man! I saw you on the news after the aliens came to New York when I was six." He looked a little abashed, "I wasn't s'posed to watch the news because I was too young, but grandpa let me when he babysat." He grinned again. "I'm eleven now, and I can watch the news, but I don't like to. It's only good when the Avengers are on, and you're not on that much."
"We're not," Tony agreed. "You like Iron Man?"
"Yeah, he's cool. I like Spider-Man better, though. I saw him one time. He was chasing a mugger when I was getting off the school bus, and he ran right past my chair!"
Peter froze. He hadn't expected that. He thought he remembered that patrol. The guy had snatched the purse of a woman on her way home from work. He remembered flying by the school bus. He'd caught the mugger, webbed him up, but he'd not noticed the kid.
Was that because he was on a mission at the time, focused, or was it because the kid was in a chair? Had he averted his eyes automatically so as not to stare, or was it just coincidence? Were people going to avert their eyes from him when he was in the chair?
He had to stop thinking about this stuff. He could feel everyone watching him. He was starting to freak out. His breaths were coming too quick. Tony squatted in front of him. Peter tried to ask for help, but he couldn't find the words. It felt like his throat was closing. What could Tony do, anyway? He couldn't empty the room for him.
Tony's palm pressed against his cheek, and he was whispering, "You want to get out of here now? Will it help?"
Peter nodded, unable to talk.
"Okay." Tony straightened up and went to get the chair. "Me and Peter are going to get a sugar fix. You want anything brought back for you?" He was talking to the kid's mother.
"A coffee would be great if you don't mind."
"Donut or anything?" Tony asked as he got Peter into the chair.
Peter didn't even care that Tony was holding him, his useless legs dangling. He just wanted to get out of there.
"Donut!" Harrison all but shouted excitedly.
The mother laughed. "Just this once, but maybe just a glaze. He's not good with the additives in food colorings. Makes him even crazier than he usually is."
The kid laughed and made a face. "Yeah, real crazy."
Tony was laughing, but it sounded forced. He wheeled Peter out of the room.
Peter felt better once they were out. The walls didn't feel like they were closing in, and his throat was opening up. It was easier to breathe. He was thankful to have avoided a full meltdown. He was becoming too familiar with those.
When they got to the ground floor, Tony wheeled him to a spot by some free seats. He didn't squat, which Peter was grateful for, he sat beside him instead. He didn't want even more people staring. He didn't want to look, but he could feel their eyes on him. It didn't occur to him that it was probably Tony they were looking at. Even before Iron Man, Tony was pretty famous.
"How are you doing?"
Peter drew a breath through his nose. "I'm okay. Sorry I freaked out. It was just…"
"A shock. I know."
It wasn't just that. It wasn't like he'd never heard people talking about Spider-Man like that before. Hell, he'd heard it from Flash how amazing he was, but that had always been kinda funny as he was telling Peter how much he sucked in comparison. This was about the fact he'd not seen that kid before, and it had made him question himself and his future.
"Yeah. I guess."
"But you handled it. You beat the attack back. That's big, kid. I've never been able to do it."
Peter wondered if it was the medication that had helped. He couldn't tell Tony about it, but he hoped it was. They said it would take a few weeks to really help, so that meant it would get even easier to handle as time progressed.
"Yeah. That's great," Peter said.
Tony leaned back in his chair. "So, you're out of the room, what do you want to do? I figure we can get away with half an hour before your new roommate starts screaming for sugar. You want to get some fresh air?"
Peter didn't want to go outside. Too many people. Too much space. "Tony, I'm wearing pajamas."
Tony appraised him. "I think those are technically sweats, so you can get away with it."
"No. Let's just get the kid his donut. His mom will probably be hearing about it until we get back."
Tony nodded. "He seems like a good kid, but you don't have to share a room if you don't want to. I can arrange for you to have a private one again."
Peter bristled, and strangely, Tony looked pleased. Peter wondered what he was seeing. "No, I'll be fine."
"Great. Hang here, and I'll get the caffeine and sugar. Anything special for you?"
"A soda and donut, please, but just a glaze. I don't want the kid seeing me with one with sprinkles."
"I can get you two? You can get the sprinkle for now and a nice, responsible glaze for when you get back." Tony looked so pleased with himself that it made Peter laugh.
"No, glaze is fine."
"You're a hero, kid, saving a mother from a tantrum."
Tony went to get the stuff, and Peter was left alone. He thought about what Tony said. Was he a hero? Was he ever? He was Spider-Man, still was in a way, but he wasn't like the Avengers.
He wasn't like Tony, but he had the man on his side. That helped more than Peter could tell him yet.
xXx
Peter was tired, but he couldn't sleep. He had his earbuds in and was listening to music. Harrison was on his bed, doing something on his tablet. Despite closing his eyes and trying to focus on the music, sleep wouldn't come. Everything felt too busy in his mind—too crowded.
Tony had stayed all afternoon, and May had come by before she'd started her night shift. They'd chatted easily with Harrison, and his mother, who they learned was called Molly. He'd felt awkward, though. He couldn't relax with the strangers in the room. He was going to have to get used to it, though, as Harrison wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Between his surgery and recovery, Peter wouldn't be surprised if he was there for a week.
Part of him regretted not taking Tony up on the offer of a private room, but he hadn't wanted to take his money. Tony had already done so much for him. Besides, it didn't feel fair either. Why should he get special treatment?
He tried to roll over, away from Harrison, but he couldn't manage it without a lot of work, still not used to manhandling his legs. He didn't like touching them. They felt dead and unnatural. It was unsettling.
Harrison laughed softly, and Peter covered his exposed ear with his arm and buried the other in his pillow. The stress was starting to get to him. Then he felt a strange twitching sensation on his stomach, right where he began to feel things. He opened his eyes and looked down to see the blankets were moving. His leg was moving, tugging the blanket.
He felt a rush of happiness, joy. The doctors were wrong. His leg was moving. He struggled to sit up, using the bed controls, and tugged back the blankets.
His right thigh was jerking and jumping like he was being electrocuted. It was weird to see, but it was moving, which meant everything.
"Oh, wow." He started to laugh, happy tears springing to his eyes.
Harrison set down his tablet and looked over. "Oh, that sucks."
"No. Look at it," Peter said excitedly. "It's moving."
Harrison looked surprisingly old for someone so young, sympathetic. "It's not happened before?"
Peter shook his head, beaming. "I can't feel it, but…"
"You won't feel it. It's just muscles twitching."
"I know but look."
Harrison looked like he wanted to say something and then pressed his call button. The door opened after a moment. Peter was still staring down at the jerking pants leg, feeling great.
The nurse came in, going to Harrison's bed. "Harrison, you okay?"
"Peter's got the twitches."
Peter looked up, face shining. "It's moving."
"Oh. I see." The nurse looked sad. "It's called muscular spasticity, Peter, or spastic hypertonia. It's common in some kinds of spinal injuries, though less so in complete paralysis. The messages are still coming from your brain down your spine, but the nerves aren't able to process them, which is causing the spasm."
The nurse's explanation crashed into Peter, crushing his fragile hope and leaving him devastated. He didn't want to break, didn't want to fall apart, but it was a struggle to hold himself together. He couldn't fall apart in front of Harrison, though. It was embarrassing enough when he did it in front of Tony and May.
"Will it stop?"
"Yep," Harrison chirped. "I just ignore it till it goes away." He shrugged. "It always does."
Peter turned his face away.
"Can I get you anything?" the nurse asked.
"No. I'm okay."
The nurse slipped out, leaving them alone. Peter was struggling, and feeling Harrison's eyes on him wasn't helping. He wanted to tell the kid to stop staring, to leave him alone, but the words didn't come out. The kid had looked so young before, but now he looked far older, sympathetic, and wise.
"You got a wheelchair yet?" Harrison asked.
"No. I mean, I've been in one a couple times, but I don't have one of my own. I don't think so anyway." The ones he'd been using were all stamped with the hospital logo.
"You picked one out?"
"You pick them out?"
Harrison's eyes brightened. "Yeah! My first was black with flames on the wheels, and the one after was blue with spirals on the wheels, so they made people dizzy when I went too fast." He grinned. "I keep growing, so they keep giving me new ones. It's great. The one I've got at home now has a motor which is cool, but it doesn't go as fast as I can go on my own. And I can't do tricks."
Harrison flexed his arms. "When I'm older, I'll get one I can do myself again, and then I'll go much faster. I'm stronger than all my friends already, but when I'm grown, I'll be able to go even faster. I want to play basketball, too, but they don't have a team for kids yet. I'm still waiting."
Peter found himself smiling. The kid was so enthusiastic. He wondered if it was because he'd been living in the chair longer or if he was just a sunny personality. Would Peter ever find that kind of excitement about choosing a wheelchair? He was going to need one. He wouldn't be able to wear the braces all the time.
"I'll ask about it."
"I can help you pick if you like. Or…" The kid grinned, his eyes twinkling. "You could have Iron Man make you one! He'd make an awesome one. He made his suit, and mom says he's a genius. I bet he could make you one that goes really fast."
Peter was already relying on Tony to make braces, but he could just picture the chair Tony would design—something fast and super-powered. Peter could just picture himself crashing into a wall at high speed. He didn't need more injuries on top of a broken back.
Harrison looked a little embarrassed. "How do you know Iron Man? Is he really your dad? I heard him say it."
"He's not my real father—but pretty close. My real father died when I was little, plane crash, but Mr. Stark, Tony, he's kinda like my dad now, yeah."
"Wow. That must be so cool. Does that mean you know all the Avengers? Do you know Captain America?"
"I've met some." He thought of Cap and what happened at the airport in Germany. He'd definitely met them and had some stories to tell. "They're cool."
Harrison looked hopeful. "Have you met Spider-Man?"
Peter froze for a moment and then realized he could give Harrison something here in return for what he gave him, a distraction and a smile. "I have, yeah."
"What's he like?"
"He's pretty great." It felt strangely good to say. "He would like you a lot."
"You think?" Harrison was vibrating with excitement.
"I know. You're just the kind of person he likes. You're kind and brave."
"Brave?"
"Yeah. Brave. You're having surgery, right, but you're so calm?" He shared a little honesty. "I've been here for a while now, and I've spent it all freaking out and being kinda an"—he couldn't say asshole, but it was the truth—"a jerk because I've been scared, but you're amazing. You're not scared at all. Spider-Man would be scared."
Harrison looked pleased. "Surgery isn't so bad, and it'll be better for me after. I go to sleep, wake up sore, and then I won't need the bag anymore. I'll be able to go to the potty alone." He blushed a little. "It kinda sucks when your mom has to do it."
"Yeah, I bet, but that's what I mean. You're dealing with it all so well. I've been kinda a baby about it all."
Harrison shrugged. "It's not like we've got a choice in it. You and me, we're in the chairs. That can suck, yeah, but we get to do stuff other people can't. They can't run as fast as me when I get rolling, so I win the races, and they don't get to pick out cool chairs to use."
Peter nodded. "And that's what Spider-Man would see in you."
Harrison grinned. "I guess. Hey! If you know him, you think I can meet him, too?"
Peter was a little sad. That was the one thing he couldn't do for the kid. Spider-Man in a wheelchair wasn't worth meeting. "I don't know, he's kinda shy about stuff like that, and he's got to keep his secret. I think you already saw the best part of him. You got to see him fighting crime. I've never seen that."
"Yeah, I did."
Peter had an idea. He couldn't tell Harrison who he was, but that didn't mean Peter couldn't write him a letter.
Harrison rolled onto this side, showing no sign of minding shifting his own legs the way Peter did. "Tell me more about him."
Peter sighed. "Okay, well, he's fast, but you've seen that already, and he really loves helping people. Like I said, he'd think you were awesome. I know one thing, he could never handle a chair the way you did. Spider powers wouldn't help with that."
"Yeah. Cool." Harrison yawned. He was starting to look tired.
"You should get some sleep."
"So should you. Your twitches have stopped."
Peter hadn't noticed. He'd been so absorbed in what Harrison was saying, how good it had felt, that he'd forgotten what had been bothering him.
"Yeah, we both should."
He settled himself back and rolled to his side, moving his legs himself and not caring as much as he thought he would.
"Night, Harrison."
"Night, Peter."
He closed his eyes and began to drift off. He was feeling better now, almost good.
When he slept, he didn't dream of falling. He dreamt of being in the suit and running with Harrison. The kid was laughing, and they both were free.
So… What do you think of Harrison? He'll be around more as the story develops.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx