Peter had always hated hospitals.

Everything from the impersonal nature of the hallways and the rooms, the loud beeps of machinery, the constant hum of noise from both patients and hospital employees to the artificial smell of chemicals in the air had Peter fighting the urge to run.

Last time he was in a hospital was when he had been twelve- Peter had crashed his skateboard into a street barrier when he tried to avoid a swerving car. He ended up breaking his arm in two places, and was promptly rushed to the emergency room. While he only had spent a few hours there, and Peter hated every moment of it. Since then, he had done everything in his power to avoid it.

However, it would only be fours years later that Peter finds himself in the hospital once again. Only this time it was not for himself.

.

.

The fact that Uncle Ben made it to the hospital at all as a miracles in itself. Like a half forgotten dream, Peter remembers kneeling on the ground next to his uncle with his shaking hands pressed tightly against his chest (OhGodTheBloodTheBlood). Vision blurred, Peter babbled to Uncle Ben to stay awake and please don't go and screaming to anyone, everyone to call 911 and help him. It felt like forever before the paramedics arrived, and even longer before they started moving him into the ambulance.

Peter climbed onto the vehicle only to be promptly forgotten. Shoved into a corned, medical jargon flew over his head as they attempted to keep Uncle Ben alive. The only medical knowledge Peter had known came from television, but even he knew that shrilling alarms was not a good thing. When they finally arrived to the hospital, Uncle Ben was promptly rushed to surgery and Peter was left behind. It was not long before the police showed up to ask questions- Peter did not remember what he told them, but he would never forget accusatory tone in their voices. They were gone within minutes, leaving behind false promises and forced sympathy.

Peter could have stood there forever, if it were not for the nurse shooing him to out of the emergency room. It was in a fit of compassion that the same nurse promised to call Aunt May for him before scurrying away.

Peter sat down in the waiting room in his blood stained clothes.

He was alone.

And his hands would not stop shaking.

(WhatHaveIDone?)

.

.

Uncle Ben looked small in his bed.

Curled into uncomfortable hospital chair, Peter watched the ventilator forcing his uncle to breath while listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

At first, Aunt May was a constant presence. Looking wane and frazzled, her hands would grip Uncle Ben tight, eyes glittering with unshed tears. Some days she would patter on with neighbourhood gossip or recipes- anything to fill the silence. But other days, Aunt May would sit there silently, shoulders hunched with the weight of the world upon her.

It did not stay that way for long.

When it was declared that Uncle Ben was on the road to recovery, Aunt May had returned to work. Bills had to be paid, and their insurance could only cover so much- there would only be more debt with Uncle Ben's medical bills. It was not before long that Aunt May had begun to pick up extra shifts. It had become increasingly rare to see her at home, seeing how she was either at work or at the hospital and only to return to get some sleep.

Peter had stayed around the hospital for a week before returning to school.

"He wouldn't want you to stop living because he got hurt," Aunt May said with her hand curled tightly around his, "School is important to him."

So Peter went- avoiding well-wishers like a plague, going through the motions before returning the hospital to sit at Uncle Ben's side.

Just like today.

Peter sat in silence, his homework lay forgotten on his lap. He found every beep, and every hiss reminding him that Uncle Ben had survived.

Uncle Ben is alive.

Alive.

.

.

That solace never lasted long.

When Peter was alone at night, dark thoughts would emerge. Any relief he had at Uncle Ben's survival would slip through his fingers like smoke, and overwhelming guilt would consume him instead.

He did this.

It was his fault that Uncle Ben looked so small and pale. It was his fault that his uncle was near death's door. It was his fault that Aunt May works all hours, never making enough. It was his fault that the bills are piling up and despite whatever they do, there would never be enough.

He did this.

He did this.

He did this.

And Peter will never forget it.

A/N: Surprise? Sorry for disappearing for 6 months… lots of stuff happened and this sorta ended up being forgotten. What happened? Well, a family member ended up going to the hospital as I was writing this chapter (oh, the irony). Thankfully, they are much better now and this entire situation really just reinforced how much I hate hospitals.

That said, it should be noted that I am not a doctor nor do I hold any medical knowledge beyond what I learn from TV, internet, or my own visits to the hospital (patient or visitor)- so please excuse any medical discrepancies in this story.

Thank you to everyone who had favourited/followed the story! And special thanks to opukata, Guest of honor, greece60, Nerdyicesk8er Update2soon, Excited reader, HetaliaIShipIt and lilyblaney for their reviews!