Chapter Text
Tony rushed onto the wooden floor right next to the unconscious teen, his heart leaping out of his chest. The man grabbed the teen and checked his pulse; the boy's heart seemed to palpitate. He discerned footsteps approaching Peter's room, when suddenly, a horrified, disheveled May Parker flung the door open, running into the room.
"What happened?!" Her eyes were wide, voice frightened. She dropped down next to Tony, who was trying to find the reason why the boy passed out. Tony checked his pulse near the boy's neck, it was faint. The teen's breathing was shallow, his skin was even more pallid than before, perspiration beading on his forehead. The boy was sweltering to the touch, almost like he was a ball of fire, it was worse than before—
"FRIDAY, what's going on with Peter?!"
After a stifling minute, with Tony anxiously waiting and May stroking the teen's hand, the AI responded, "He's going into hypovolemic shock. His blood volume has been too low for too long. The gash was too big for Peter's healing factor to keep up if he is not treated immediately, major organs within his body can be affected. Heart attacks, kidney failure, liver failure, and even brain damage are all possible."
May looked at him with eyes full of terror, her mouth was hung open, and she was shaking, probably from shock, "What do you mean his blood volume is low?! How? Did Peter get hurt fighting again?! That's it Peter's not—" May grabbed Tony, shaking him.
The AI cut her off, "There seems to be an infection that is ravaging his body. I cannot seem to pinpoint what exact bacteria is causing the infection, but it seems to have entered from his gash and is now in his bloodstream. It is causing major inflammation in his right leg, specifically in the popliteal artery around his ankle. His liver is also heavily inflamed, it seems that the infection is inhibiting him to process toxins causing his jaundice. Septic shock is possible. He needs medical attention immediately."
Tony pushed out of May's grip and picked up Peter in a bridal style. The boy was limp in his arms, it already looked like he was too far gone. His chest was barely moving when he was breathing—. Tony felt a headache coming, the adrenaline rushing through his veins was causing his whole body to ache. Tony began to sprint towards the door of the boy's room but was abruptly stopped by May.
"What's going on?! Where are you taking him?!" May seemed just as alarmed as Tony, her pupils were dilated and her voice had a panic-stricken edge to it.
"I'm taking him to Bruce, I'll send Happy to get you!" Tony ripped out of her grip, running out of the room. The only thing he could hear was the monotonous sound of his feet hitting the floor, his heartbeat pounding in his head. His chest burned, everything hurt, but Peter was worth all the pain he was feeling.
….............
May stood in Peter's room, frozen and rigid, as she could only watch the man leave with her boy. Her mind was spinning, rushing with insidious and intrusive, hopeless thoughts...She felt herself collapse onto the ground, her knees buckling underneath her. The cold, burgundy wood floor seemed welcoming to her despair. All she could do was wait, while the one she was entrusted to take care of time and time again got hurt. She was powerless, oh what she would do to take away her boy's pain. She felt a sob wrack her frame, hands hugging herself tightly. Her mind delved into dark thoughts, ‘what if Peter never comes back?’ Her breathing became uneven as her head met her knees.
She was an idiot. She knew something more was going on and yet— she didn't do enough. May knew she could have done more... but she didn't. Another sob left her lips, as tears fell out of her eyes. She was trembling, so many emotions rushing through her. It made her feel hopeless—
She wished it was her instead.
………….
Tony burst into the compound, rushing to the lab in which Banner ran his experiments. His heart was racing, the room was racing. His vision went blurry, and he could feel the adrenaline rush through him; it felt like molten lava rushing through his veins. His mind was hazy, everything was blurry and his head was filled with worry. When he sprinted into the laboratory, Peter limp in his arms, he ran up to where he saw the back of Bruce hunched over his desk.
"Bruce!"
The man spun around in his chair, his eyes widening at the form running towards him. As soon as Tony came close enough to the man, the scientist's mouth hung open, his face going sheet-white.
“Wha- What happened?!” He ran over to the billionaire who was gasping for breath, clutching onto the fragile form in his arms. Tony looked at the boy in his arms, he was frangible, like a porcelain doll, still frozen in time— not aliv—
Tony snapped out of his daze, “Get a blood transfusion ready for Peter, now! We could lose him!”
Bruce snapped out of his trance, nodding, “What’s his blood type?”
“B-, and hurry! I'll give you more information when you get Peter in a more stable condition!"
Bruce nodded, holding out his arms. Tony gave the boy who was slack in his arms to Bruce. As soon as the boy was placed into his arms, Bruce ran to the infirmary. Tony could only watch as the boy left in scientist’s arms. He felt his heart sink as his knees buckled and his legs hit the floor. He bit his lip and his breath hitched; without Peter here— He began to tremble; he didn’t have to put on a frangible front anymore. His stomach lurched, as he was finally able to sit in his own thoughts. The words caught in his constricted throat were finally able to escape into the white void that was the vacant laboratory. The bright lights seemed to prick at his eyes and lash at his back. The man squeezed his eyes shut. The room was too white; it reminded him of the stodgy look of a hospital. It made him feel overwhelmingly nauseous.
Tony pounded his fist into the grey tile floor, he felt the spike of pain rush through his bones. The physical pain somehow made emotion weight sitting on his already weak chest, lighten. "I'm such an idiot." He let out a forced laugh.
"Too damn worried with work to even care about those who matter to me—" Tony let out a trembling breath, voice barely a whisper.
"Too damn worried about myself... Too damn worried about everything not important—"He slammed his fist into the tile once more, feeling the heat in his hand from the blood rushing to his first. "Pathetic..."
He felt his whole body tense, shockwaves of emotions now shooting through his entire body. His ears were ringing, perspiration beading, head pounding, and his fists were clenching. He let out a shaky breath, feeling queasy.
He was terrified— begging whoever, whatever might be listening, that Peter would wake up—
…............
As soon as Happy arrived, the woman jumped into the car. She was sweating, hyperventilating and she felt herself heating up. She was petrified, 'what if Peter dies? What if... What if I'll never see him again?' The car ride was grueling, every second felt like an eternity. She wasn't quite sure how long the ride actually was, but every minute was precious time.
It began to drizzle, the pitter-patter of the rain on the car was almost painful. May curled up into a tight ball, praying that she would see her boy alive again once more.
When she arrived, she wasn't at the compound like she thought she would be. She was at a hospital and that... worried her even more— What was going on with her boy? Everything was a blur, from Happy opening the door to the many people going in and out of the hospital. Her body went on auto-pilot, she just wanted to see Peter...
"Miss?" A voice spoke from the blur. May snapped out of her daze; blinking rapidly, and hands shaking. The woman handed her a small sticker, "Please wear this at all times while in the hospital. A security guard will take you to Mr. Parker's room."
May nodded tightly, looking at the sticker reading 'May Parker, visitor in building C'. She placed it on her chest, following the man that gestured to the elevators further down the hall. The woman at the front desk smiled at her warmly as she made her way to the elevators. It was deathly silent between the two. May kept her eyes glued to the floor as the elevator ascended upwards. The woman twiddled with her fingers anxiously, following the guard blindly. Their footsteps rung in her ears, only amplifying her worry tenfold. Abruptly, the man in front of her stopped, to which she halted as well. She looked up the see Peter being wheeled out of his room—. The woman only caught a glimpse of the pallid skinned boy as he was rolled away.
The guard was speaking but she could not hear him over the ringing in her ears—. A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of the haze that encased her mind. In front of her stood Tony Stark and Bruce Banner; both of them had disquieted expressions on their faces.
"Where's Peter going?" May's eyes met Tony, there was desperation in her voice—
The man let out a sigh, pursing his lips, "He's being transferred to the ICU to prepare for emergency surgery."
"Emergency surgery?!" May's breathing escalated; she was trembling, "for what?!"
"Necrosis of the Liver—"
"Necrosis!?" May grabbed Tony's shoulders with both her arms, "What's going on with him!? Why won't anyone tell me anything!? He's my baby! I—" May's puffy eyes began to tear, she was shaking, she was a mess.
"Let's go to Peter's new room— I'll tell you everything from there." When May's eyes met the man's she— could see some emotion that she wasn't excepting, sorrow. She was hesitant to call him but a few hours ago because a part of her believed that he was a selfish, egocentric billionaire... and while one of those were true, she was beginning to rethink her view of the man. She followed Bruce and Tony down the corridor— unsure of what to feel— what to think. She just wanted Peter to be okay...
.
.
.
.
The first thing Peter noticed when he came to consciousness was a throbbing headache he had, it sent zips of pain through his body. His abdomen hurt like hell—His muscles felt sore, everything ached, his breathing was labored. His arm was piercingly cold, from whatever was pricking at his arm— Wait... where?
Slowly, the teen cracked open his sealed eyes, stinging with the brightness of the room. The boy blinked a few times, feeling a searing pain in his left foot. He sat up, the white sheets pooling at his waist. To his right, he spotted a heart rate monitor, the monotonous staccato rhythm loud in his ears. There was a small window to left, the outside veiled with blinds. The walls were a bleached white, no wear, no tears, just pristine white. There was a wooden table next to his uncomfortable cot. On it laid hand sanitizer, a tray of untouched food, and a glass of water... Come to think of it, the room smelled. He couldn't quite place the peculiar scent, but it kind of smells like... sterile? Like iodoform or... stifling antiseptics, yet it still had the underlying scent of sickness...It was a bit overwhelming. He moved his left arm to grab water and felt a prick and winced, letting out a soft hiss of pain. Wha?
There sat intravenous drip, sending cold fluid into his arm, sending chills up his weak physique. Peter let out a frustrated sigh, 'guess I can't get water then.' He licked his parched lips, a faint rustle made him flinch. Only now did he hear a soft snoring coming from the far-right corner of the room. There was Aunt May, skin pallid, breathing softly... in some ways, she probably looked sicker than him... He could tell that he presumably worried her to no end. She was sitting on an old small chair. It was tattered, the green fabric covering on part of it was torn, the legs and armrests were both severely covering in chips and scratches. Peter let out a soft sigh, eyeing the back of his right arm. His heart rate picked up, he not only could feel it, but he could hear the monitor's sounds spike, becoming more rapid and frequent. He remembered what— what happened... He felt his heart clench with— an odd emotion... guilt perhaps? He wasn't sure.
Peter chuckled internally, shaking his head. 'What an idiot I am... aren't?' He began tapping his fingers from the anxiety spilling into his body. Of course, his mind sucked it up like a sponge because he can never have an anxiety-ridden brain for more than 5 minutes. The boy looked around at uninspiring, stark white room.
'Now what? You're such a failure, you even failed at killing yourself—' Peter clenched his hands, now balling into fists, sending up rockets of pain in both arms. It was strange, having things to be somewhat normal after he tried to... The boy pursed his cracked lips. He has to continue living— right? It felt so wrong to be alive... it just—
Peter let out a groan, plopping backward into his reclined bed... Curiosity overcame him when he slowly began to turn his arm around—
"Peter you're awake!"
Peter flinched, looking up to see May whose eyes were wide, puffy, red, and full of tears. May shot up, running over to the boy, giving him a tight embrace. She held him so tight his abdomen began to hurt. He felt her warm tears spill into his hospital gown— she was sobbing, shaking... Peter tentatively wrapped his right arm around her, not knowing what else to do.
May hugged him even tighter, violet sobs leaving her lips, "Peter— I'm so glad." The boy froze in her arms, "I thought you— you were never gonna wake up—I"
Peter forced a fake laugh, "It's okay— I'm okay! I'm awake now..." May's grip became slack, Peter felt her breath become uneven.
"Is it really okay?" Peter was taken aback by the seemingly random question. "Are you really okay?" Slowly May escaped the embrace. She looked at him, her expression full of sorrow— "I know what happened... Stark— he told me everything."
He stayed silent, refusing to meet his aunt's gaze, not wanting to answer to May's horrifying revelation. Peter bit his lip, and May rubbed his shoulder tenderly, "Peter, please look at me." The boy's eyes were still glued to his cheap bedsheets. May let out a sigh, but continued on, "You don't have to suffer alone anymore—…. I don't want you to think you need to. Please, Peter, don't think that killing yourself is the only way—" May's voice became tense, tight, and more desperate as she carried on.
Before she could continue, however, the door to his room opened, revealing Mr. Stark. Peter watched the two adults exchange mutual glances; May nodded and got off of Peter's small cot.
"We'll continue this conversation later—" May whispered to Peter, voice laced with guilt. She exited the room and Stark stepped in, closing the door being him.
The room was quiet as Mr. Stark moved the tattered chair in the corner next to Peter's bed. He sat down, calculating gaze never taken off Peter. Before things got too uncomfortable for the already distressed teen, Stark spoke, "How're you doing, kiddo?"
Peter let out a soft sigh, "Honestly— I don’t know how to feel." Peter looked down at his wrist that once housed the bloody, infected, puss-filled gash. But a mere handful of stitches laid in its wake, a large roseate scar sat there as well. "I'm faced with the reality that life— it goes... it goes on even when things like this happen... I just don't know how I'm— I'm gonna get better— it's... not fair." Peter looked Mr. Stark in the eye, "I just didn't live feeling like this— but now I don't know if I believe I can get better— I don't even remember what it's like to be happy!" Peter fell backward onto the cot, left arm stinging from the IV prodding in his arm. Peter let out an exasperated sigh, "Enough of that— what happened to me anyway?"
Mr. Stark stared at Peter with an unreadable expression, "We'll get back to your mental state in a bit," he answered hesitantly. "For physical state—" the man's voice suddenly softened, "we thought we were going to lose you. You've been in a comatose for over 2 weeks." Peter looked at the man, bemused. Stark just shook his head, "Your infection was a lot worse than I had originally anticipated, that's why you're in the hospital. While Bruce did have the necessary equipment for a blood transfusion— he had some complications. Your symptoms seemed to worsen instead of improve once you had the appropriate amount of blood in your system" Mr. Stark pursed his lips and ran his left hand through his hair. "He tested your blood— turns out you were going into septic shock, we didn't have the antibiotics so we brought you to the nearest hospital to the compound. Then, when doing a chest X-Ray it seemed as if there were pockets in your liver—. You had abscesses of puss forming in it due to the septic shock from candidiasis fungus; that caused your jaundice."
Mr. Stark began to bite his lip, and Peter's ears began ringing, his eyes meeting his hospital gown, tuning out the rest of the world. He felt numb, unsure of what feel from this new revelation. "Doctors performed an emergency surgery to remove the puss from your liver and the dead tissue as well from necrosis. Luckily, the liver can fully regenerate itself. You have the IV not just for food and liquids, but for antibiotics as well. On top of all that— your leg became so inflamed from the mold, that the popliteal artery became so narrow that blood could no longer reach below your left kneecap— The result of this... Is—" Stark became quiet. Peter looked at his feet confused, he slowly peeled back the cover to see— somewhat of a nightmare. There his left foot, the toes gone—. The boy couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him. He felt a foreign hand on his own.
"Gangrene..." Peter felt Stark squeeze his hand, "The only way to stop the spread of dead tissue was to amputate— There's nothing else we could've done..."
Peter just felt himself nod, maybe just an instinct at this point... he just wanted to be alone in his thoughts. Though numb— he felt tears roll down his face, yet still, he kept silence. Words were trapped in his throat, refusing to leave, maybe it was the shock— or something else he wasn't sure. He felt Tony's gaze on him, it bored into him; making him feel heavily uncomfortable. He felt the hand on his squeeze tighter.
"Once you're fully healed, you'll probably— be transferred to another hospital and admitted into its psych ward...."
Peter tensed, his body going fully rigid. His mind reeled to a halt— what?!
Mr. Stark seemed to notice his inner turmoil, so he moved his hand from Peter's hand to the boy's shoulder, "I know... It's a lot to take in, but you need help. You need to find a way to cope— believe me when I say life isn't as bad as it seems right now."
The boy's hands turned to fists feeling somewhat betrayed, "A psych ward? Really? I'm just gonna be treated like an insane person. I'm not going to be the same as I used to be. It's hopeless! It's not like I'm going to go there and magically get better! I'm a waste—" He jeered, doubt dripping his tone.
Stark just sighed heavily. Peter heard the sound of the man's collar moving, presumably from shaking his head, "Y'know Peter? I can only help you so much; these people are trained professionals who do this for a living. They don't pick the job just for any random reason; they pick it because they want to help people like you. You can talk to them, get all that weight lifted off your chest, you can be administered medicin—"
"Medicine?" Peter hissed, "Come on— Like I'm going to take medicine for something so stupid..."
"Peter, believe it or not— it can help you. I know you don’t want to take medicine because you think it's a weakness... You told me before that you're a failure of a superhero... You're not. This isn't your fault, you don’t have to blame yourself. I mean look at me, I basically almost ended the world when I created Ultron... that was my fault, even if it was a mistake and my intentions were good. You're not a failure because you're sick. Mental illness is just as real as a physical one... taking anti-depressants isn't a weakness. It's like not taking medicine when you're sick, you might be able to fight it on your own, but usually, you can't."
Peter finally slowly looked up at the man, his eyes were full of doubt, yet he nodded softly. He doesn't really really believe Mr. Stark, even if what he's saying is true, he still thinks somehow he failed— he knows it's pretty irrational, but it's all his brain wants to believe. His body still tense, his heart was still palpitating. He brought his knees to his chest— "What's going to happen to me?" The teen whispered, lip quivering.
"I don't know, kid"
Peter hung his head... everything began to well up in his mind. It became overwhelming and then.... everything just caved. He felt hot tears pour down his face, and he let out a stifled sob. He turned and grabbed on to Mr. Stark suddenly, embracing him, "I'm sorry— I'm sorry— I'm so scared— I don't know what I'm going to do... Please, I'm scared—" the boy clutched onto billionaire, not wanting to let go.
He felt the man embrace him back with tentative arms, "I know— but it's okay kiddo. I'll be here with you every step of the way... Soon, you'll be back to your old happy self— I promise."
END
(Please read end notes for some important information)