Heartless Dreams
Peter had arrived in Gotham a couple hours ago. The Bleak city full of grey clouds and streets of rubbish slowly got darker as the sun set in the horizon, barely leaking glowing streams of light through the suffocating abyss of the surrounding fog.
He had paid for a motel for a couple of days until he could get his bearings and a firmer plan in place other than the sketchy outline it already was.
As he trudged up the metal stairs towards the open balcony, he walked along with his suitcase in tow, the floor shuttered loudly under the wheels of his suitcase, banging from time to time when a dent in the floor came up. The rails across the balcony were painted an aqua blue, the paint peeled in some sections leaving the rusted silver beneath it. Peter didn’t touch the rails.
As he walked, he eventually made it to room B12, Peter unlocked the fly screen before an old wooden door appeared. There was a peep hole in the door and lines creating the pattern of squares in the mahogany wood but other than that nothing interesting.
Peter put the key into the knob before twisting it open, it rattled from his grasp as he pushed the door wide. He felt against the wall for the light switch before he flicked it on, the light above him flickered with a buzz before an orange glow surrounded the room. He led his suitcase in and let his eyes gaze around in a silent judgement.
Even though the room looked old and ratty it wasn’t bad. The floor was a carpet throughout the whole room except for the bathroom where it turned to tile. The bed was a single that was pushed up to the wall, the sheets were clearly washed, however Peter didn’t know how clean it really was despite the small hint of lavender that came from them. There was a bedside table with an old lamp on top.
On the other side of the room there was a wooden dresser that had a draw missing, next to it was a bench with cupboards, a basic silver sink and a fridge. Peter wasn’t even going near it; he didn’t even care that he couldn’t smell anything from it.
Peter placed his bag next to the bed before he walked over to the bathroom, the light was already on. All the lights were connected from that one switch at the door. There was no door between the room and the bathroom, but Peter didn’t mind considering he was the only one staying.
The floor tiles were a mix of blue and white, there was a sink with a small mirror screwed in above it, Peter could barely fit half his face in it. The tap on the sink dripped continuously, the sound an annoyance. Peter grabbed the hand towel that was looped around the handrail beside the sink before he placed it under the leaking tap. It didn’t mute the sound, but it was a lot quieter.
There was a shower in the bathroom also, he hesitantly pulled back the curtain to see nothing but a normal shower. There was the shower head hooked into the wall, it was one that you could take of the wall and drag around. There were also three dispensers, labelled ‘shampoo’ ‘conditioner’ and ‘body wash’ all in that order. Peter wasn’t going to use them.
Despite the peeling walls and the small bubble above the sink that was definitely from water damage Peter didn’t mind the room, only paying $36 dollars a night.
He wasn’t worried about his car either, due to being Mr Stark’s ‘apprentice,’ Mr Stark had made Aunt May’s car almost invincible. The windows were completely bullet proof to the point where they were pretty much completely unbreakable…Unless someone comes up to it with a massive ray gun or had the strength of a hundred men.
It only happened once though, so it’s fine.
The car handles and car keys were also made with fingerprint readers, so if Peter hadn’t touched the handle first, or if something is applied unless it was rubber it would send a shock. Not enough to kill someone but enough to make them randomly spasm for a couple of hours…or days.
Peter definitely didn’t test it on himself. He did, however, randomly get fifty bucks from Mr Stark afterwards for the bet they placed for a totally different reason that was not testing the car.
Either way he wasn’t worried, so when he parked the car he just went to the front office to check in.
The lady at the office in the front had already given him a small brochure welcome with a bunch of information on it.
There was an emergency evacuation on it in case of a fire, which was also on the same wall as the light switch, along with where the public washing machines and dryers were, a bunch of numbers, such as emergency numbers, maintenance and the front desk. Even with the leaking tap Peter would just report it when he was leaving, he wasn’t staying long, and he had no interest in having someone else in the room.
There was a page talking about the food served along with a timetable such as breakfast, lunch and dinner, down at the front near the front desk, Peter just skipped that. There was a section letting parents know about the playground which Peter saw when he came in, it was just a sad slide and swing set.
Lastly there was the codes. Peter looked up at the corner of the room where a small circle was, in the brochure it explained that during an emergency regarding a villain it would create a light and flash in a certain colour.
The main ones were:
Grey for Poison Ivy.
Purple for Riddler.
Blue for Mister Freeze.
Orange for Scarecrow.
Green for Killer Croc.
Pink for Harley Quinn.
Yellow for Mad Hatter.
Brown for Bane.
Red for Joker.
And Black for an Akrham Asylum Breakout.
Anything else and it was a plain White.
There would also be a quick siren that would play three times every thirty seconds when the lights first come on and then a long siren that went for a minute when the threat had been dealt with.
It advised that everyone should stay inside during the time that the light is on. Peter wasn’t worried, he was only staying for a couple of days if all goes to plan, but he was aware of how dangerous Gotham was considering the few times he had been there. Even Mr Stark always made him stay in when there was a rogue on the loose and they were in the city.
Mr Stark, however, did not.
Don’t do anything I would do and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. There’s a little grey area in there and that’s where you operate.
He hated that bloody phrase with a passion. If he got a dollar for the amount of times Mr Stark had said that to him, he would have enough to pay for weekly groceries.
Peter sighed as he chucked the form on the bed before going towards his suitcase to grab some flip flops, he was going to shower to get the sweat and dirt of and he did not trust that tile floor even if someone told him it was drenched in bleach.
He took his shoes off and placed them beside his suitcase before grabbing a towel that he had brought from a small shop when he first planned to have a shower in a communal shower area. That is where he also had brought the flip flops and some hygiene products.
There were a few small public restrooms with showers, the water was always cold but they were enclosed with a door and walls to provide some privacy.
He made his way to the shower and turned on the tap to a temperature he liked. It felt warm, made his skin tingle from the heat. It was strange to have a hot shower after shivering in cold ones for so long.
He washed his body down before using his own shampoo and conditioner, he scrubbed it in and watched the dirty water swirl towards the drain. It was satisfying to feel clean again, being in a hot car all day made him feel fatigued and gross like most road trips did.
As he ran a hand through his hair he felt the weight of the day finally fall on his shoulders making him slouch under the water.
Peter felt heartless.
He turned his burning gaze to look at the ratty old ceiling of the motel, he placed a hand on his chest to feel his heart thump against his skin.
Thump…Thump…Thump…
It was a continuous rhythm, a confirmation that he was alive, that blood was being pumped through his veins.
It was proof that he had a heart, yet even so he still felt heartless.
He had only felt like this only four times before and usually came around during the times of death, times where people were meant to grieve.
The first time was when his parents had passed away, it was more obvious then it was now due to his age. He wasn’t able to hide his true feelings, so instead of covering everything with a smile and laugh he got pitying and worried looks from Aunt May and Uncle Ben as they dragged him to a therapist in relation to grief.
He didn’t talk much, only fiddled his thumbs or stared into walls. Sometimes he would have a conversation, but it never went past anything besides what he had learnt that day in pre-primary.
Aunt May would rub his back as he stared mindlessly into space, placing kisses on the top of his head. Uncle Ben would stay up with him as he had a restless night, making hot chocolate before they sat in silence as they watched a random cartoon on the TV.
Eventually he was able to start feeling things again and staring mindlessly into space became daydreaming to saying whatever was on his mind. He started to smile again; despite the many years it had taken to even slightly recover.
The second time he had ever felt like this was when Uncle Ben passed away. He had been there when he was shot, his hands covered in blood as he sobbed desperate apologises. He remembers the police dragging him away for a statement as they placed the black blanket over Uncle Ben, he remembers Aunt May’s car speeding onto the scene and jumping out.
However instead of breaking down like she wanted to when she saw her beloved husband’s body on the ground, she just rubbed her nose once and then grasped Peter in a hug so tight it left him a breathless sobbing mess. She had stayed strong for him in that moment, despite her shaking breaths and cracked words.
Aunt May hadn’t cried about Uncle Ben until she was sure Peter had fallen asleep, his head against her chest she felt her silent tears dampen his washed hair as he held him tight in his bed, continuously placing kissed on the top of his head as she ran her fingers through his hair.
He wasn’t asleep.
After that night he went back into his numb state of mind. He could just hide it better.
Later when Aunt May had taken him to the school counsellor for the free three sessions, he remembers the counsellor asking Peter if she could speak alone with Aunt May about what they talked about, he agreed and sat outside the closed door.
His hearing picked up everything.
“What do you mean he doesn’t feel safe enough to grieve?” Aunt May had asked.
He heard the sounds of tissues being plucked out of the box as the counsellor spoke again. “Peter has gone through a traumatic experience; his survival instincts have taken over. Even though he is in a safe place his mind hasn’t comprehended that and is protecting itself.”
“So what do I do?” Aunt May had asked desperately. “How do I make him feel safe? I don’t want him to be living in constant fear.”
“You are already doing everything you can Mrs Parker.”
Peter had heard Aunt May sobbing later that night.
The third time he had felt like this was when Mr Stark had passed, it later worsened when he learnt that Miss Natasha had died too. Even though he smiled, Aunt May, Happy, Ned and MJ could see how he was truly feeling.
MJ was careful with her words, teasing remarks disappeared as she treated him like glass, instead of putting her arm around his shoulders, she would hesitate before dropping her arm back down to her side.
Ned started to take over his schoolwork, they both knew Peter already new the material, so he just filled in the blanks.
Happy would come around more often, his presence drifting around the apartment, not only for his own comfort at the loss of his boss and best friend but also for Peter and Aunt May. He would help with cooking and cleaning while also driving Peter everywhere, despite his sarcasm lessening it was still there and he wasn’t afraid to make a comment or two about Peter. Peter appreciated it.
Aunt May, poor Aunt May. She did everything she could for Peter. Helped get him out of bed, washed his hair in the sink and picked out his clothes when Peter couldn’t. Backed off when Peter needed space, sat with him on late nights, hugged him, talked with him, called teachers and friends, kissed his forehead.
She made him know it was going to be okay, and always made Peter know how much she loved him.
“I will love you enough for the both of us Peter, until you love yourself again and when that happens, I will continue to love you until the end of time, you are everything to me Peter. I love you.”
He had stopped eating as much, instead relying on muesli bars to keep him going. He had become more brutal on patrol, not controlling his punches as much as he should, a few extra broken arms for something as simple as a stolen bike, a ripped spinal cord for a mugging gone wrong, leaving someone paralysed in hospital from the neck down.
He didn’t really care, however when Aunt May had found out that was when she stood in. She made him take a break from Spider-man until he got back on his feet again and when he did eventually start to feel again, she was there to wrap his wounds.
The fourth time he felt like this was when Quentin Beck, Mysterio died. Peter didn’t even care about his betrayal at the time, didn’t even feel it. However, he did feel the overwhelming amount of guilt until his mind decided to numb itself out again. Despite the villain and evil nature of the man he was still a person, someone Peter shared his guilt to, someone Peter had trusted with his life, someone Peter had come to see as a comrade and a person who could understand what he was going through, even with the fact that it was all a lie.
Peter later dug into his life and what he found made him close up even more. Quentin Beck was a middle child, having an older sister named Andrea and a younger brother named Blake. Andrea was currently working two jobs, one as a waitress and the other as a cleaner to help provide for Blake and their sick father. Meanwhile Blake was studying nursing in University and was only a couple months away from graduating.
Ned and MJ couldn’t understand why this man that had played with Peter’s fragile mind to later stab him in the back was effect Peter so much, but Happy and Aunt May could see where Peter was coming from. Even so, Ned and MJ were still there for him just as they were before.
It was a cycle that had begun again and had eventually ended with Peter feeling like himself again.
Now however, Peter had lost his main pillar in life, his Aunt May. The person he came to for everything was gone and he had no one to lean back on this time. He was alone with his thoughts that all ended in.
Could be worse.
What’s the point?
Whatever.
I don’t care.
I’m heartless.
He hoped that counsellor from all those years ago was right because otherwise he was heartless.
Peter didn’t want to be heartless.
With his mood ruined he placed his hand on the hot water tapped and turned if off. It made the water run cold in seconds, causing his heart to suddenly jump against his chest at the abrupt change in temperature against his hot skin.
He could feel his heart pound at the small shock, it made him swallow as his eyes closed.
A shiver to roll down his spine like a snake slithering down a tree, he felt the cold drops of water hit his face and run down his neck. He took a deep breath and let the water run down his back in streams before he turned the water of completely.
Peter wrapped the towel around himself before he got out and headed towards the main room where his suitcase was, he didn’t even go near the mirror.
He had been avoiding mirrors a lot lately, not always but more often then he usually did.
Peter rummaged through his suitcase, grabbing some comfy sweats and a plain top he got dressed and put his dirty clothes in a washable bag, he would just chuck it all in the laundry when he had the time.
He zipped up the suitcase, plugged his phone in one of the outlet provided by the sink and turned the light off before he headed over to the bed, as he laid down on the sheets, he felt his energy drain out of him as if a floodgate had been opened, he melted into the bed. He felt tired, so tired.
He closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.
His eyes opened to see a field all around him, he could feel the sharp blades of the grass beneath him, prickling into his skin. Peter sat up, the field went on as if it was never-ending, just forever going into the horizon.
Peter took a deep breath, his lungs expanded inside his chest as the breeze ruffled his hair. He licked his lips as he looked around him, he saw a large blob in the distance slowly come towards him.
He stared at the growing blob before he made out the features of an elephant, the tusks a shiny ivory, the wrinkly skin a deep grey as its long nose flicked around. Its ears flapped around in joy as it’s large feet stomped towards him.
As Peter looked harder, he saw a baby hiding behind it, walking innocently as it wrapped its nose around the older elephant’s tail.
Peter smiled as the two elephants slowly trudged towards him. As the heat of the sun blazed against his skin he watched as the baby elephant finally noticed his presence and started to trot towards Peter, raising its nose to let out a loud trumpet of pure happiness.
Peter smiled, finally after a few minutes the baby elephant reached Peter. Despite the elephant being just as tall as Peter he wasn’t scared; he felt a connection between them.
He held his hand out and watched as the baby elephant bumped its head against his skin, rubbing against it. Peter pet his head as the elephant started bumping against his chest affectionately.
Suddenly a big shadow erupted over Peter and the baby elephant, Peter turned around to see the older elephant behind him and before he could do anything the older elephant raised its trunk and plopped it on top of Peter’s hair.
Peter felt the trunk mess up his hair before it wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him towards its large leg.
Peter felt his shoulders relax, completely content.
He could see the wisdom inside the elephant’s eyes as it stared down at him in pure love as if Peter was its own.
As the trunk tightened around him, Peter felt protected and safe. The elephant’s kindness towards him made him feel like he belonged somewhere.
The baby elephant came up behind Peter and started nuzzling between Peter and the older elephant.
Peter felt something bubble up inside him, something nice, positive.
However, the sky suddenly went dark, the sun being exchanged for a moon and cloudy skies. Peter stared up in the sky in confusion as the time shifted in seconds.
He felt a coldness suddenly seep into his arm; droplets of water ran down towards him from the sky making him shiver. The older elephant brought Peter and the baby elephant in closer, trying to protect them from the rain as it began to pound down.
As Peter hunched his shoulders and hugged the baby elephant close for warmth, he heard the sound of a rifle in a distance, the loud bang sizzled in the distance.
Peter’s eyes drew to the sound to see a shiny silver bullet blaze through the wind towards them. Before he could even process anything the older elephant had moved in front of Peter and the baby elephant in a protective stance as if keeping its family safe.
“No!” Peter heard himself yell as the bullet shot straight into the side of the older elephant.
The elephant wailed with a cry, loud and painful, the bullet large enough to leave a gaping hole. The red blood seeped from the wound, overflowing.
Peter glanced to where the bullet had come from, he saw a man with a mustard yellow shirt and a black jacket. The man had thin strands of silver hair on the top of his head that faded into a black along the sides. He had a grin on his face as he watched the elephant fall towards the ground with a thud.
The man put his rifle on his shoulder and spun around, walking away as a free man.
Peter ran around the slouched elephant with the baby following behind him. The sound of the baby elephant’s whimpers haunted him as he placed his hands over the wound trying to stop the blood that bled around him.
Tears fell down his cheeks as pleas and apologises fell from his lips in a stream, he didn’t realise he was screaming out for help until the sound of a siren came up beside him, lights of blue and red surrounded him.
An ambulance swerved towards him, Peter watched two paramedics rush out of the truck, running towards him. The world around him shifted into a street, cars were parked beside him as a familiar deli shop sat across the road.
Peter looked back down towards the elephant to instead see Uncle Ben, bleeding out underneath his shaking hands.
The baby elephant was gone.
“Sir, you need to move. Sir? Move, please.” Someone who was walking past the scene dragged Peter away from Uncle Ben as he screamed.
“No Stop! That’s my Uncle! That’s my Uncle Ben!” He grabbed on desperately to the hands that were holding his chest and pulling him closer.
“Don’t worry love, the paramedics will do everything they can. Take a deep breath.” A man said behind him, as Peter scratched at the man’s hands he went to glare at the man behind him before seeing his own face staring back at him.
Peter was now in the bathroom, looking into a mirror. There was blood on his and deep within his nails, his Spiderman suit had blood drenching it.
Aunt May was behind him, Peter could barely see the top of her head over his shoulders as she started to unzip the back of his suit.
“Peter, my grey hairs are out of control at this point.” She sighed as she helped Peter pull the suit down around his waist.
Along his chest was a deep slash from a stray knife that had caught him during a carjacking.
“Aunt May, I have only seen a couple grey hairs.” Peter smirked as Aunt May suddenly glanced at his eyes. “Wait what? I was joking.” She gasped. “Are you serious?”
Peter rolled his eyes as Aunt May glanced towards the mirror to check her long brown hair that had zero grey hairs.
“Advanced eye sight, did you forget? I see them all the time.”
Aunt May huffed before she went back to cleaning the cut that ran along Peter’s chest. “Tomorrow you and I are going to the chemist and are grabbing some hair dye.”
Peter nodded, “What colour.”
Aunt May tilted her head in thought as she started to get the needle out. “I’m thinking maybe a deep blue, or green. I have always wanted green hair.”
Peter didn’t hide the grimace, “Green like the Joker? Ew, Aunt May. What about pink or something? Maybe purple or red.”
Aunt May smirked, “You really think my skin tone could pull of the Joker’s paper white? Wow. Thanks Pete.” Aunt May joked with a huff as she pulled the string just a little too tight. They both knew it wouldn’t hurt due to Peter’s pain tolerance and healing, however it didn’t stop Peter from whining.
“Ow.” Peter mumbled. “That hurt.”
Aunt May shrugged, “Sure it did, wuss.”
“I would like to see you try taking stitches.”
Aunt May raised an eyebrow. “Once the neighbour threw a rock and it hit me right here.” Aunt May said as she pointed towards Peter’s sternum.
“Wait, where?” Peter asked as he looked down to see where Aunt May was pointing before her finger flicked up and hit him lightly on the nose.
Aunt May snorted a laugh at the face Peter pulled. “Oldest trick in the book, can’t believe you fell for that, surprised your Peter tingle didn’t pick that up.” She said as she pulled the last of the stitches before tying it in a loop at the end.
“It doesn’t work like that and please don’t call it a Peter tingle, Aunt May.”
Aunt May just smiled. “Go wash up, I’ll order in.”
“Thai?” Peter calls out as Aunt May walks out of the bathroom.
“If I ever order anything else then I am an impaster.”
Peter sighed at the stupid pun before he went towards the sink to wash his hands.
As he turned the tap off, he looked into the mirror and found himself wearing a red bowtie and a black suit. It was clean and fitted perfectly.
He fixed his bowtie before he walked towards the paper towels and dried his hands.
As he headed towards the door he felt his spider senses tingle causing him to stand back a step, lucky he did or the door that was suddenly flung open would have broken his nose.
A man, completely drunk staggered in, his face slightly green. “Sorry lad,” The man said as he walked pass towards the toilet.
“Uh, it’s alright. Do you need any help?”
The man shook his head no before Peter suddenly heard the man gag into the toilet.
Peter decided he would get a staff member to help the man.
He walked out the door and flagged the first wait staff he saw. “Uh, excuse me.” He said to the man.
The man smiled at him, “How can I help you, Sir?”
Peter bit his lip, he didn’t have much experience at galas. “Uh, there is a man who is sick in the toilets.”
Before Peter could continue the wait staff had already nodded and headed towards the toilet.
Peter watched before he felt a hand land on his shoulder giving him a small shock.
“Woah, watch it rookie.” Mr Stark said as he flung his arm around Peter.
Peter flushed. “Sorry Mr Stark.” However, Mr Stark shook him off. “No troubles kid, I know better than to sneak up on you like that.”
Mr Stark grinned before dragging him towards a corner of the gala. “Anyway, I want you to meet someone.” Mr Stark leaned in a whispered quietly in his ear, “He’s a bit of an idiot, but we’re childhood friend’s so he was sorta dumped on me and now I’m responsible for him.” Mr Stark smiled, “Kinda like you.”
Peter rolled his eyes at Mr Stark’s teasing before a voice popped up next to him. “You say that and yet I was the one that had to stop you from spiking the punch.”
A man with broad shoulders and black hair walked up to them. His eyes a clear blue and a small smile on his lips. In his hand was a glass of Champaign that he casually slipped on while the other sat in his pocket.
“Ah,” Mr Stark smirked. “Bruce, how do you know I was talking about you, a bit self-centred, right Pete?”
“Uh.” Peter mumbled, he wasn’t sure whether to side with his mentor or the man in front of him. However, before Peter could stress anymore the man rolled his eyes with an easy-going grin. “I know because I’m the only childhood friend you have here.”
Mr Stark pulled his head back, “Well, now you’re making me sound like a loser. Thanks asshole.”
The man just sighed in amusement before holding his hand out to Peter. “I’m Bruce, or as kindly put by Tony, the ‘idiot’ in this situation.”
Peter smiled back shyly, “Um, hi sir. I’m Peter.”
Bruce waved him off. “Just Bruce is fine.”
“That won’t work.” Mr Stark said with a shrug. “I said the same thing, and I’m still called Mr Stark.”
Bruce sipped his Champaign. “So you told Peter to call you Bruce too?”
Mr Stark just rolled his eyes with a disappointing sigh. “You know what I meant.” He turned to Peter. “See what I mean? Idiot.”
Mr Stark glanced around the room, seeing people dressed up in fancy dresses and beautiful makeup, he looked towards the dance floor and saw a bunch of people waltzing around.
“They should play some heavy rock, hell.” Mr Stark leant on Peter in despair. “I would take pop at this point and you know how much I hate pop music.”
Peter rolled his eyes before Bruce spoke up. “I’m sure if you start doing the macarena in the centre people will enjoy it.”
Mr Stark grinned. “Yeah, enjoy taking my picture and blasting on TV. I can already see the headlines. ‘Tony Stark loses his marbles, is this genius really all sane?’”
Bruce hummed, “You’re right, can’t have people knowing how much of a lunatic you are. It already stresses me out enough.”
Mr Stark rolled his eyes patting Bruce on the shoulder. “You love me, anyway imma show Pete my moves.”
Before Peter could even see, Mr Stark had grabbed his wrist and was dragging him towards the ballroom dance floor.
Peter scrunched his eyebrows. “How come I’m the follower.” He asked as Mr Stark placed a hand in his and another on his back.
“I’m older and more experienced. Plus, I’m the boss and you’re the Underoo. I do what I want.” Mr Stark grinned.
Peter frowned. “This is like…age discrimination.”
“Do you even know how to dance Pete?” Mr Stark asked as he pulled Peter towards him to start doing the waltz.
Peter looked towards his feet in a panic. “Uh, no. I don’t, I can do ballet? That’s it though.”
“Well you should have told me before I dragged you here, chin up buddy.” Mr Stark said. “Just shuffle your feet, I’ll do the rest.”
As Mr Stark pulled Peter around the dance floor while he fumbled over his own feet. Peter suddenly smiled. “Hey Mr Stark?”
“Yeah rookie?”
“This is like…” Peter tilted his head in thought before nodding. “This is like those father, son dances that people do.”
Mr Stark just stared at Peter with a raised eyebrow. “You just made this so awkward.”
“Oops.”
Mr Stark sighed, “It’s fine kiddo, cmon, bring it in.”
Peter leaned in and as he rested his head against Mr Stark’s shoulder he heard Mr Stark sigh fondly above him. “I meant let’s finish this dance, but okay.” He said as he wrapped his arm around Peter’s back a little tighter.
“I have a reputation, so this hug has to be quick.” Mr Stark said as Peter smiled with a laugh.
As Peter sunk deeper in Mr Stark’s shoulder, he suddenly felt the weight of his whole body fall sideways and before he knew it, Peter woke up on the old, creaky bed of the hotel room.