Tired
When Peter Arrived at the Police Station
The building was as busy as ever, filled with the noise of detectives talking, phones ringing, and criminals loudly protesting their arrests. Peter wasn’t a stranger to this place. He had been here before, working as a medical consultant for cases that regular hospitals refused to handle.
He walked straight to the reception desk, where the on-duty officer was typing something on the computer without looking up.
"Peter Parker. You called for a doctor?"
She glanced at him briefly before nodding toward a side door. "Officer Murphy is waiting for you. Second floor, room 4B."
Peter nodded and made his way through the familiar hallways. The air always carried the same scent—cheap coffee, old paperwork, and exhaustion. When he reached the room, he pushed the door open to find Officer Murphy, a man in his mid-forties, standing beside a table where the mutant sat.
The mutant was young, maybe in his early twenties, with rough, gray, scaly skin that resembled a reptile’s. There was a deep wound on his shoulder, slowly bleeding, but he showed no sign of pain.
Instead, he watched Peter cautiously, as if ready to run at any moment—despite the cuffs on his wrists.
"Finally, you're here," Murphy said, crossing his arms. "Every hospital refused to take him in. They claim they’re not ‘qualified’ to treat mutants."
Peter glanced at the mutant, then back at Murphy, his voice cold. "Oh, of course. They can’t treat a mutant, but they have no problem handing out bills to any millionaire who walks in with a broken finger."
Murphy sighed. "Don’t start with me, Parker You know how things work."
Peter didn’t reply. Instead, he walked over to the young man, placing his medical bag on the table. He sat down slowly, pulled on his gloves, and took out some bandages and disinfectant.
"Name?"
The young man didn’t answer.
Peter sighed. "Alright, let’s make this simple. I’m a doctor. My job is to make sure you don’t die on this floor. I don’t care what you did or why you’re here. I’m just here to treat you. That’s all."
The young man stared at him for a while before finally muttering, "Rick."
"Alright, Rick. I’m going to touch your shoulder now. If you plan on biting me, give me a warning first."
A faint smirk appeared on Rick’s face, but he stayed silent.
Peter carefully began cleaning the wound, his fingers brushing against the scaly skin. It wasn’t quite human, but not entirely reptilian either—something in between. But Peter didn’t react, didn’t show any sign of discomfort or hesitation. He just worked in silence, as professional as always.
"How’d you get this?" he asked while applying the bandages.
"One of the guards hit me when I was running."
"Running because you were stealing, right?"
Rick didn’t answer He just looked away.
Peter finished his work and said, "Alright, the bleeding has stopped. But don’t push yourself too much, or it’ll open up again."
He stood up, packing away his tools, while Rick watched him for a long moment—studying him.
"Why do you do this?" Rick asked quietly.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Because it’s my job."
"No, it’s not." Rick’s voice was sharper now. "Any other doctor would’ve refused to treat me, just like they all did. But you didn’t even hesitate. Why?"
Peter looked at him for a moment before answering simply,
"Because I know what it’s like."
He didn’t explain further. He didn’t need to.
Rick’s eyes widened slightly, as if something suddenly clicked in his mind. Then, silently, he nodded.
As Peter finished, Murphy looked at him and said, "Thanks, Parker. We appreciate you coming in."
"Yeah, yeah. Don’t thank me. Just try not to beat him up too badly next time." Peter said sharply as he picked up his bag.
Then he turned and left, heading back to the train station—without looking back.
Peter Returned to His Clinic
After a long trip from Queens, Peter arrived back at his clinic, exhausted but used to it. He pushed the door open, tossed his medical bag onto the table, took off his coat, and dropped into his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed for a moment.
His mind was still occupied with Rick. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last. Mutants like him had no real place in society, trapped between fear and rejection. Hospitals wouldn’t take them, the police beat them, and the public either feared them or exploited them.
Peter, more than anyone, understood that feeling all too well
But he wasn’t in the mood to dwell on it now He needed rest.
Of course… he didn’t get it.
The door swung open without a knock.
"Man, you look like you just walked through a war!"
Peter didn’t even need to open his eyes to know who the intruder was.
"Johnny," he muttered tiredly, not even bothering to move.
"Oh, great! You finally remember my name!" Johnny grinned as he shut the door behind him and strolled in uninvited—just as always.
"Why are you here?"
"Oh, don’t be like that! I’m just checking to see if you dropped dead from exhaustion." He plopped down on the chair in front of Peter, casually propping his feet up on the table like he owned the place.
Peter opened his eyes and stared at him for a long moment before asking flatly, "Do you have any concept of privacy?"
"Not really." Johnny smirked. "Anyway, where were you?."
"I was in Queens."
Johnny blinked in surprise at the straightforward response, then continued with curiosity, "Queens? What were you doing there? Don’t tell me you were visiting a girlfriend."
Peter closed his eyes again and didn’t answer.
But Johnny wasn’t the type to give up easily "Let me guess… You were treating someone?"
Silence.
"Oh, so I’m right! Who was it? Another criminal? A hitman? Or maybe someone worse?"
Peter slowly opened his eyes, stared at Johnny for a moment, then simply said, "A mutant."
Johnny paused, clearly not expecting that answer.
"A mutant? Like… one of the X-Men?"
"No," Peter said calmly, rubbing his forehead before leaning back in his chair. "Just a regular guy… or at least, he was before he mutated."
Johnny studied him for a moment, then said, "Let me guess, the hospitals refused to treat him."
Peter nodded silently.
"Damn…" Johnny muttered, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t stupid, even if he acted like it sometimes. He knew how society treated mutants, but he hadn’t really thought much about the medical side of it.
"So, you just went on your own to help him?"
"Yeah."
Johnny straightened up, speaking with rare seriousness. "You know… You’re the weirdest doctor I’ve ever met in my life."
Peter stared at him blankly. "Thanks."
Johnny laughed. "That wasn’t a compliment, but alright, I’ll let you have it." He was quiet for a second before adding, "You know, you don’t have to do this alone."
Peter raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I’m part of a team that includes the smartest guy in the world, my genius sister, and a rock guy who can punch through buildings. Maybe we can help with this kind of stuff."
Peter looked at him for a second before replying
"I don’t need help."
"Dude, that’s not the point! The point is, you don’t have to be alone in this. Even doctors need a team, right?"
Peter considered his words for a moment before giving the same answer. "Thanks for the offer, but no."
Johnny sighed dramatically as he stood up. "Booo, you’re no fun. At least think about it. Anyway, have a good night, Peter!"
He left the clinic, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.
Peter sat there in silence, staring at the spot Johnny had just been in before muttering, "I need to clean my medical tools."
Then, he got up and started cleaning.
_____________
A Knock on the Door
Peter sat at his desk, scrolling through the news without any real interest. The clinic was quiet, the atmosphere perfect for some rest, but he knew moments like this never lasted long.
Then… a knock on the door.
He raised an eyebrow and sighed, hoping it was just a salesman he could get rid of easily.
But when he opened the door, it was nothing he expected.
Standing at his doorstep… was a group of X-Men.
He froze for a second, then slowly shut the door.
Silence.
Then, he reopened it.
Same scene.
Same people.
"...Wow." Peter muttered, staring at them.
'More trouble.'
Professor Charles Xavier was at the front, seated in his wheelchair, smiling calmly. Behind him, Wolverine stood with his arms crossed, looking skeptical. Storm stood with her usual elegance, while Cyclops glanced around the clinic looking a little impressed—almost like a kid in a toy store.
Peter blinked and looked at Xavier, muttering in his head,
Oh… This guy reads minds, doesn’t he? Can he hear me right now? That would be—
"Yes, I can hear you," Xavier said smoothly.
Peter froze, then narrowed his eyes. "Stop that."
"Sorry, old habit." Xavier smiled.
Wolverine chuckled, while Cyclops smirked and asked curiously, "What’s he thinking about now?"
"Trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going on in my head," Peter said flatly, crossing his arms.
Xavier simply smiled again and said, "Dr. Parker, we’re here—"
"To thank me, right?" Peter cut in. "Yeah, I could’ve predicted that without reading anyone’s mind."
Storm smiled. "Indeed, we’re here to thank you for treating young Rick. We’ve taken him into our academy, and he’s safe now—because of you."
Peter looked at them for a moment before replying, "Well… thanks. Are we done?"
"That’s all you’re going to say?" Cyclops asked in disbelief.
"What do you want me to do? Am I supposed to hug all of you or something?"
Xavier chuckled again. "We just wanted you to know that what you did was important. It’s not every day we find someone outside our community who cares about us."
Peter nodded slowly, then paused before looking at Xavier. "You’re still reading my mind, aren’t you?"
"Maybe," Xavier said with a small smile.
"Stop that." Peter narrowed his eyes.
"Sorry, old habit." Xavier coughed into his fist.
Peter gave him a blank stare before crossing his arms again. "At least tell me—what does my voice sound like in your head? Is it my normal voice, or more dramatic?"
Xavier chuckled. "More like a documentary narrator."
Cyclops actually laughed at that. "Oh, that’s amazing!"
Peter muttered in confusion, "A documentary…?"
Xavier spoke again, "We won’t take up more of your time, Dr. Parker. But remember, if you ever need anything, the X-Academy is always open to you."
Peter nodded slowly. "I’ll keep that in mind."
The X-Men turned to leave, but before stepping out, Wolverine stopped beside Peter, eyeing him silently before saying,
"You’re weird, but I respect you."
Why did everyone keep calling him weird?
"Uh… thanks?"
They left, and Peter shut the door, letting out a long exhale.
He looked up at the ceiling and muttered, "Oh God… even the X-Men are showing up at my door now. What’s next? Are the Avengers gonna knock too?"
He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, no, don’t think about it… Don’t attract the bad energy, Peter."
Then, he went back to his desk, hoping—just hoping—he’d finally get some peace.