Tony had never flown faster in his life, then when he heard Bruce's code being input. All he wanted, was to make sure Peter was okay, but when he got there, he couldn't make himself move.
Peter was so still, and so...broken. Medics were already swarming into the room, as Bruce called out his assessment.
"He's hemorrhaging, and already in shock; he needs to be in surgery now."
Someone else said something about intubation, as hands began pressing and turning Peter, trying to keep him alive. He didn't move or react at all; not even when they straightened out his mangled leg, and wrapped it in a splint.
His hair was soaked in blood, head turned to the side, towards Bruce. He looked so young, it was hard to believe Tony had been talking to him just that morning, about pizza. If he had just listened to the kid and let him come, they wouldn't be in this mess.
He had watched, Peter beg for help, and fight for his life, and he had watched him say goodbye as he gave up. And as much as he wanted to be there for Peter, he couldn't help like the medics could, and he couldn't watch anymore.
He didn't know when Happy showed up, or how much he knew about what was going on, but he appeared behind Tony, his hands gentle as he tugged him away from the mess.
"Come on. Let them work."
Tony felt numb, as he allowed himself to be led away. He swallowed thickly, as his stomach turned. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."
Happy rubbed a hand over his shoulder blades, voice resolute. "You have to, they need to operate."
Tony knew that, but his mind was already gathering up reasons to feel guilty, and there was no shortage of them. "I told him he'd be okay. He trusted me."
Happy stopped walking, to stand in front of him, and grip his arms. His face was calm, but his eyes were sad, as he tried to reason with Tonys demons.
"You know there was no way to get in. The system was designed that way. There was nothing you could do; it's not like you could tell Peter that. You did everything you could."
Tony sniffed, lifting a hand to his face as he realised he was crying. He wiped away his tears, and tried to shake away the fog taking over him.
"I need to tell May."
Happy sighed, nodding. "I'll get his friend."
Steve offered to help Tony break the news, for which he was immensely grateful. Steve was quieter than usual, and so pale that Tony thought he may pass out. He figured it was the guilt for what he had suggested they do, but Tony didn't hold it against him, because he had been right when he said it was what Peter wanted. And Tony had been about to go through with it.
Just because he understood that it had been the best option at the time, didn't mean that the guilt of making that decision wouldn't kill them inside everytime they looked at the teenager. Although that depended on weather Peter survived the next few days or not.
Tony jumped a little, at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Steve's face was creased slightly, in concern.
"You're starting to hyperventilate. You need to get out of your own head."
Tony nodded, rubbing a hand over his face, as they approached May's apartment door.
Jesus, what was he going to say?
He thought he may throw up again, and took a deep measured breath as he knocked on the door.
God, her face. As soon as she opened the door, her smile slipped right off. She had been attempting to cook something, and burnt it, given the smell in the air, but she had been smiling, before she saw them standing there.
Her bright eyes, flickered between the two, becoming somber behind her glasses, as she came to the realisation without them having to say anything.
She swallowed, her voice trembling. "Is he-?"
She couldn't finish her question, and Tony couldn't answer. He squeezed his fingers until they hurt, looking at the floor and trying to keep together, as Steve answered.
"He's in surgery now."
She took a breath, as her eyes began to dampen. Her hands fluttered over her shirt, straightening it and smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles, in an attempt to calm herself. It didn't work.
"What happened? Is he going to be okay?"
Steve answered again, always polite, always the leader. Tony hated himself for his silence.
"There was an attack on the tower, and Bruce lost control. Peter did all he could to keep Hulk in the building. If he hadn't, others could have been hurt. He protected everyone in the city."
Tony raised his chin, finally meeting her panicked eyes. "We have the best medical team with him, and I'll do everything I can to fix this. I'm so sorry, May."
She had hated Tony for the longest time, but had only recently warmed up to him, for Peter's sake only. She let out a sob, and surged forward, wrapping Tony up in her arms and pressing her face to his shoulder.
He hugged her back, feeling her shake as she cried. And he hated himself for that too.
…..
Happy sighed, pausing outside the Leeds family door. He didn't want to do it. He could hear the family laughing inside.
He had been in the same position, a few times before. When Peter fell from his webs, and landed on his arm. It had been a bad break, and his concussion was bad enough that Bruce had been worried about damage. He'd had to tell the best friend then, and here he was again; dead and worry eating at him, stopping him from knocking until he could muster up the courage.
When he finally did knock, it was met by a muffled shout from the teenager. "I'll get it!"
He opened the door, taking in Happy's expression. It was usually grumpy, but this time it was sad. Ned paused, paling.
They just stared at each other, a quiet understanding between them, until the teenager finally spoke. "It's Peter?"
"Yeah."
"Is it bad?"
Happy only nodded this time, pointing inside. "Go get your bag. May's already there."
He nodded, looking scared, and went off to say goodbye to his parents, with an excuse of a sleepover.
It struck Happy, not for the first time, about how sad it was that the teenager had a go-bag always at the ready, for when he needed to stay at his best friends bedside while he healed.
The car ride to the tower was silent.
….
May wrapped Ned up in her arms, as soon as he arrived; her face already red and streaked with tears. Ned sniffled against her.
"Is he okay?"
She ran a hand through his hair, and kissed his forehead. "I don't know."
Tony was sitting with his head in his hands, next to a line up of other Avengers, who all looked as shattered as he did. Ned was used to them by now, and took a seat with May, hand clutched tightly in hers.
They waited for hours, to hear any news, and all stood as Dr strange came out; having been called in to help.
"He made it through the surgery, but there was a lot of damage. He has a severe concussion, a bruised heart, internal bleeding, broken ribs right across his chest, his arm was broken in several places, and his leg was crushed. I've placed pins in the leg and put it back together, but it's going to be a long road to recovery, even for him. He's also got heavy bruising across almost every part of him; the worst over his arm and his hip."
May had a hand over her mouth, Ned crying quietly at her side, and everyone else looked different shades of green, at the long list of injuries. Stephen sighed, and took one of Mays hands.
"He's holding his own right now, and I do think that he has a very good chance of recovering, but it's going to be a while. I have him in an induced coma, to help him heal, and he's probably going to need to go into surgery a few more times, but he's doing really well."
May sniffed, voice choked with tears, as Ned let out a sob behind her. "When can I see him?"
Stephen looked sympathetic as he gave her a small smile. "I need to run a few more tests, before we clean him up, and get him in a room, but I'll come and get you as soon as we're done."
She nodded, gratefully, and thanked him before he left.
…..
Bruce scrubbed his hands down, and tried to breathe. He had just spent a few hours fixing the teenager that he broke. It had been almost physically painful, to have to look at what he had done, but he endured it.
He pressed his guilt down, until he had put the broken boy back together. He helped clean the blood off that pale skin, keeping a close eye on his vitals and scans as they moved him to his bed; and only left when Peters family came in to see him.
But he didn't stop to rest, or take a break. He went straight to the lab, the broken mess of glass, metal, and plaster, and began picking up the remnant of his work. Peter needed medication that would work better with his system, and Bruce would find it. He wouldn't stop till he did.