So here is the second chapter, I'm thinking there will be two more after this so thank you so much for everyone who has continued reading!
I hope you enjoy it!
The medical wing of the complex was never a place anyone wanted to be, a lot like a real hospital. Its walls were more than eggshell white and the nurses and doctors were familiar with each Avenger so they received the best treatment but it still was a shitty place to be. None of that escaped Peter's mind as he sat awkwardly on one of the beds while the doctor poked and prodded him. His cheek was broken. The deep bruises where the bo staff had cracked his ribs would heal in a few days and the black eyes and various contusions he did not even realize he had, would take a few more. But Peter barely heard any of it. He dutifully sat with his hands clasped, so tight in his lap that his knuckles were white, and listened to the doctor but his thoughts a few hundred feet away. Thankfully, Happy had not left his side since he had brought him in and was listening to the doctor for him.
"Peter, you should try to get some sleep. You'll be alright in your own room tonight just make sure to stop by tomorrow to get checked out again or I'll be here all night if you need anything sooner." The doctor's voice was kind as she said it and Peter managed to drag his tired eyes up to her face, nodding gently and whispering a soft thank you.
Realizing Peter was not really listening, th doctor looked over at Happy, "Mr. Hogan, can you help him to his room?"
Happy started to nod when a sudden shout of "Wait!" stopped him.
Peter was ramrod straight in the bed, almost like he had just woken up, and he quickly added, "I don't want to go to my room yet." He felt a wave of panic wash over him as his gaze darted between the two adults in the room, "I want to know how Mr. Stark is doing."
The doctor was a bit caught of guard by his sudden energy and stuttered her response, "I – I can find out for you. Give me a few moments." And she disappeared out of the room, again leaving Happy and Peter sitting silently.
Peter was twisting his fingers together, desperate for an answer when the creaking door announced the doctor's reappearance and demanded his full attention. Her voice was sad when she gave him the answer, "I'm sorry Peter but he's not out of surgery yet, I can't tell you how he's doing."
His posture deflated a bit as he asked, "Can I stay here until he does?"
"You can…" she answered hesitantly, "but I would imagine your room would be more comfortable."
He just shook his head in the negative, "I would rather wait."
Realizing she was not going to win the argument, she looked over at Happy, "Mr. Hogan, would you be able to stay with him for a while." She knew he was not going to be awake long and if he wanted answers, he needed someone there to give them.
Happy agreed with none of his normal annoyance, settling into the chair he had already taken over in the corner of the room. The doctor looked less than pleased but did not press the issue and instead went to let the attending know that Peter wanted to know about how Mr. Stark was doing, she knew he would know what that meant.
As soon at the doctor closed the door softly behind her, it did not take long for Peter to fall asleep. He tried to fight it, tried to stay awake but he was just so tired.
It only felt like fifteen minutes had gone by when he woke to someone shaking his arm. Groaning into consciousness, Peter mumbled at the arm, trying to get it to stop making him sick. Only after the shaking stopped, did he wink an eye open to see Happy staring down at him and another man that Peter did not recognize standing over his shoulder. As he opened his eyes farther, Peter recognized the doctor's scrubs the man was wearing and he remembered exactly why he was asleep on a hospital bed. He shot up, barely registering the pain from any of his numerous injuries, and asked the only thing he cared about, "Is he okay?"
The doctor nodded but it was stilted, "He's okay for now, but I need you to know that Mr. Stark is still in critical condition. It's good you got him here when you did, Peter."
Peter could feel the tears welling in his eyes again and he knew his face had crumpled even though he did not want it to.
The doctor noticed and quickly tacked on the last of his diagnosis, "I have to tell you that I am optimistic that he will make it. We were able to repair most of the damage and while it will take time to heal, he has a good chance of surviving." Then he turned his well practiced gaze onto the battered teenager. Squinting a bit he gave some more medical advice, "Peter, you really should get some sleep in your own room."
Peter was not really listening though, his mind was still trying to wrap itself around the not quite positive response he had gotten, "Can I go see him?" His voice was so quiet and he felt hate burning on the back of his tongue at how pathetic he sounded.
"I'm sorry I can't let you right now, we're getting him set up in a room and you can see him tomorrow," the doctor's voice held very little room for argument but the sliver of opportunity he gave was room Peter was willing to work with.
Pleading with the doctor, he tried to get his way, "Please, just let me see him. I won't stay."
"Not tonight Peter. I'm telling you that you need to get rest or you will end up hurting yourself and I can guarantee you, Tony Stark would have my job if I allowed that to happen." The man's eyes were hard and when he refused to back down, even to Peter's pleas, the kid relented, he was just too tired to argue.
When Peter did not carry the argument any farther, the doctor looked to Happy, "Mr. Hogan, could you please take Peter to his room? I do not want to see him in the medical wing until tomorrow."
Happy scowled at being told what to do but did not argue, instead helping Peter off the bed and out of the wing. His room was not really that far away but it took far longer than it should have. Peter managed to walk more or less on his own but Happy hovered just at his elbow incase he was not able to make it. It was slow, but they made it and standing outside the door, Happy finally spoke, "Kid, are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want."
Peter just wanted to be left alone. There had been a weight that had been sitting on his chest since he had woken up and he could feel it was slowly crushing him, he just wanted to sleep. Still he could not tell Happy any of that, "I think I'm okay Happy, thanks. I'm just really tired and I'm going to try to get some sleep." Peter pressed the door open and stepped through the threshold before trying to smile at Happy. It ended up as more of a grimace but Happy did not press the issue as Peter quickly shut the door feeling worse than he ever had.
He shuffled over to the bed and collapsed on the soft dark blue cover as the tears he had not realized he had been holding back overwhelmed him. Peter curled the sheets in his hands, feeling the material twist and give under his fingers, and sobbed until his chest hurt and his tears soaked the sheets. He found himself wishing for a comforting word or calm hand to make it a little easier. But they never came and instead he sobbed until he passed out.
"No! Please no, come back!" He screamed as Mr. Stark's chest rattled to a stop while that man's laughter rolled and built in the background like a wave coming to shore. The laughing rolled over him as he sobbed and the pain and fear turned into wrath and horror, the feeling terrified him but he could feel himself acting with it. He clawed at his ears with hands bloody from Mr. Stark's wounds but the laughter would not stop. Then he was in front of that man again, pummeling him. Feeling the bones break under his hands as he landed punch after punch on the unprotected head. Then when the bloodlust had been satiated and the laughter finally stopped, he looked down to an unbroken, but clearly dead, face he knew well. "Uncle Ben?" He whispered before whipping back to look at the body of Mr. Stark on the ground. Peter looked between the both of them before stumbling back into a wall slick with blood. He started to scream again…
Peter bolted up in his bed, his heart trying to thrum out of his chest and his breath trying desperately to strangle him. He twisted in the plush sheets as they constrained him, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than even the thinnest, scratchiest sheets he had ever owned. His senses slowly adjusted as he desperately tried to get a handle on his spinning head.
As soon as he got a slight inkling of where he was, images of everything that happened slammed into him, nearly splitting his head in two. He dug his fingers into his hair and felt the sobs rising in his throat but this time there was no comforting hand on his shoulder, no soft words to focus his pain. Instead he was left in his room, writhing in his bed and trying to breathe through the stranglehold Mr. Stark's death had on his mind. The hiccups sped up, his breath coming in inconsistent, shallow gasps, not helped in the least that he was still trying to warn, or beg, someone who was not there.
Then suddenly, there was a hand on his arm and a quiet voice managed to break through the inescapable, terrifying panic slowing grinding him down, "Peter…Peter…you need to breathe." The voice was vaguely familiar but he was so far into his own nightmares that figuring out why was outside of his ability so he closed his eyes tighter and dug his fingers into his scalp so hard he could feel slick wetness prick at the pads. But once his oxygen starved brain realized that wetness was blood, he was instantly transported back to the warehouse watching Mr. Stark bleed to death under his hands and…what came after.
"Peter!" Whoever was talking to him was not going away but the voice became more insistent and hands were pressing on his arms, pulling at them, "Peter, please you have to listen to me. You need to stop."
Then he heard the panicked voice turn away from him before there was someone on his other side, a second set of hands. A soft cadence joined the other voice, just like before he recognized it but could not place it, "Peter, you need to move your hands. You're going to hurt yourself." He wanted to listen, wanted to obey but the pain helped to stop the memories and he dug in farther. Then he felt the arms dragging at one of his hands and it started to move from his head. Peter tried to be stronger but the lack of oxygen was starting to affect him, he was hyperventilating and in his weakness, his hand slowly started to move. As soon as the voices pulled one hand away, the other was not far behind and Peter found himself still sobbing but without the protection of his arms over his eyes. He was forced to put faces to the voices. There still were no names that he could latch onto but at least Peter knew he could trust them.
Bruce was busy fighting with his arms but Natasha was staring at him. He locked onto her eyes and held on with every bit of determination he had left. He was still trying desperately to drag air into his lungs but having another person to cling to was helping a bit. Natasha held his gaze and then she laid one of her hands on his chest and ordered, "Slow down your breathing, Peter." Her voice was harsh but her eyes held a warmth that he urgently needed. As she ordered him to do that, she deliberately exaggerated her own breathing deeply, tapping on his chest as she took a breath in and then again as she slowly let it out. While she did that, she held his gaze with a steely determination. Bruce sat next to him on the bed, holding his arms at his sides and massaging the muscles in his wrists, trying to get him to loosen the fists his hands had curled into. The tears continued to course down his cheeks but the shallow gasps that had been making it through his sobs were deepening into breaths as Natasha continued her ministrations.
Peter could feel himself calming down and the names slowly worked into their way into his muddled brain. Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanoff. That was who was helping him. Slowly he unclenched his hands and steadied his breathing, he could feel his heartbeat slowing down to the point where the organ was not trying to escape his chest anymore. When he finally was able to pull himself completely out of the dream, he looked away from Ms. Romanoff's eyes, embarrassment suddenly replacing the panic he had felt.
"Don't." She ordered suddenly, laying her hand on Peter's chin and pulling his eyes back up to hers, "Don't do that." He could not help but nod into her hand, understanding exactly what she was trying to tell him. The soft look in her eyes returned when he nodded, and she added, "Good," before smiling and releasing his chin. Then she looked over Peter's head to Bruce.
"Peter," Bruce started and then paused, unsure exactly what he was going to or ask the kid. Still Peter had turned to look at him so he figured he should say something, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Peter definitely did not want to talk about his dream, he was not even completely sure if he understood what it was but he knew he did not want to vocalize anything he remembered of it. So he shook his head. But there was one thing he wanted an answer to, "How is Mr. Stark?" His voice was quiet and would have been inaudible in any other situation but given their focus, it rang out like a bell.
Bruce could not help but sigh when Peter shook his head, of course he would not want to talk about it. So he did not press him but then Peter asked about Tony and he easily made the connection, "He's doing okay, Peter. He's not out of the woods yet but he's alive." Bruce laid his hand on the kid's back and rubbed a few soothing circles to keep him grounded when he said it. Happy had told him what he knew when Bruce had gone to investigate the commotion in the medical wing. Bruce knew Peter had brought Tony back to the complex and that Tony was not doing the greatest but his doctors were mostly optimistic. Peter had been told all of this but rational thought rarely accompanies nightmares.
Peter took in a shuttering breath, "Thank you Dr. Banner, Ms. Romanoff. I'm sorry if I woke you but I…tha-thank you."
Bruce spoke up, "You don't have to thank us Peter. I'm just glad we were able to help." He looked over Peter's head again as Natasha almost imperceptivity nodded down at the still agitated kid and he continued, "Peter, do you want Nat and I to stay with you for a bit?"
Peter seriously considered the offer but did not want to be a burden, "I'll be alright. I think I'm going to take a walk for a bit, try to clear my head."
Bruce, for a second, thought about ordering Peter to let them stay but thought better of it. He did not know what Peter did to deal with his nightmares and figured now was not the time to start telling him what he should do. Instead, he sighed and laid his hand back on Peter's shoulder, "We're just down the hall if you need anything, please don't worry about asking for help." Peter sat calmly and when he met Bruce's eye, the doctor saw exactly why Tony was so proud of this kid.
Peter was genuinely touched by Dr. Banner's offer and he said as much, trying desperately to convey just how thankful he was for the compassion they were showing him, "Thank you for saying that Dr. Banner, I really appreciate you offering, but...but I think I need to move around right now."
"If you're sure Peter. Just remember what I said." Bruce told him before standing and stepping toward the door, waiting for Natasha to do the same.
Peter watched Ms. Romanoff gracefully slide off the bed and headed toward the door, her quiet confidence a comfort. They gave him one last look before they closed his door behind them. Frustration at the nightmare bubbled up inside him as the door snapped shut and he fell back into his pillow, willing the tears not to start falling again. He was just so tired and worried. And weak. Sprawled back on his bed and trying to figure out how he was going to fall asleep, another thought came to his mind, "FRIDAY, are you there?"
Peter was not sure why he expected any different but he still jumped a little when the Irish AI quietly answered his question. The voice was a comfort he did not even know he needed and he could not help but smile.
"Of course I am, Peter, what can I do for you?"
She was kind like Karen and Peter suddenly had the urge to put his mask on but instead, he focused on FRIDAY's voice, asking, "What room is Mr. Stark in?"
Her voice only paused for a moment before she answered, "He's in room 14 in the medical wing. Would you like me to show you how to get there?"
A solution solidified in his mind, "No I think I'll be able to find it. Thank you FRIDAY."
"You're welcome, Peter."
Sliding out of the bed, Peter pulled an old hoodie off the chair next to his desk and set off to find room 14. The doctor might have been trying to protect his job but no one could blame him if Peter found out on his own.
Well that's it for now! I hope you enjoyed and I will try to get the last couple of chapters up as soon as I can. I hope everyone has a good day!