Peter smiled at MJ across the lunch table, tossing a potato chip at her. Her hair was loose around her face today, and he thought it made her look exceptional.
“Eat your lunch, loser. We only have five minutes before class.” She said, looking back down at her book.
He glanced down at his plate, frowning at the half-eaten sandwich. He hadn’t been hungry for several days, he’d still been forcing himself to eat, but it hadn’t been much. He had hypothesized that his body was finally watering down the spider bite’s crazy side-affect that had him eating like an elephant every day.
The bell rang and the Ned, Betty, and MJ all headed in different directions. Peter waved them all off and stood up himself. His feet led him down the tiled floors of the cafeteria. He stepped into the hallway, about to head to his class. It was time for… Peter stopped, staring at the floor. What class was he going to? He racked his brain, thinking as hard as he could to no avail. He shook his head, remembering that he had read that doorways cause you to lose your train of thought. But it was March of his senior year of high school, he should remember what class came after his lunch period.
A laugh shook him from his stupor, Olivia Yung grabbed shoved his arm, a smile on her face. “Come on, Parker! We’re going to be late to Western Civ! You don’t even have your notebook, geez! You Americans! Come on, you can borrow a piece of paper and pen from me. We have a quiz on Thursday, you better start taking some good notes!” She tugged him along, and Peter shook his head. Olivia was really nice. She was a genius Foreign exchange student and had quickly joined the Decathlon. MJ and her really got along on account of Olivia was obsessed with politics and her and Michelle could talk about current events for hours.
Peter sat down in class, a bit shaken from the weird memory lapse thing, but he just pushed it away, and began to take good notes. Mr. Harrington wasn’t the best chaperon, but he was pretty good at teaching. So good that Peter struggled to keep up with the points the man was making about the reformation. Peter looked up at the projection and paused. There was a misspelled word on the board. He stopped, furrowing his brows. He looked around, why was no one else noticing this? The word wasn’t even a real one, why would Harrington put it up? Peter looked down at his paper, then looked back up. He dropped his pencil while he re-read the sentence. It said, “Martin Luther posted the 95 These on the Wittenberg church.” The word Peter hadn’t been able to place was church. How the hell had he been so confused about that? Peter shook his head. This was getting a bit too weird for his liking. But he figured he would talk to Mr. Stark about it that afternoon at the internship.
Peter got in the car with Happy, but the man was on a business call, so he had the partition up. Peter pulled his mask out of his bag and slipped on over his head. “Hello, Mr. Parker.”
“Hey, Karen. Weird question for you.” He said.
“Anything that I can answer I will.” She responded.
“Um, have I hit my head recently on patrol?” Peter leaned back and waited, already knowing the answer, but needing to double check.
“I have no record of you hitting your head recently. I am automatically required to alert Mr. Stark of any and all head injuries upon incident. I have not alerted him in exactly three weeks, and last time you hit your head it was nothing but a migraine inducer.” Peter gnawed on his lip, trying to come up with a reason behind the strange things that had gone down earlier in his day.
“No reason, K.” And he pulled the mask off. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, maybe that was it. Peter closed his eyes. With the New York traffic, they’d be at least another forty-five minutes to the tower. His last thought was that’s just enough time to take a nap.
It had been three hours that Peter and Tony had been in the lab when Mr. Stark turned to Peter with a look of annoying amusement on his face.
“Kid, you’ve been tapping your fingers on the table for the last ten minutes and if you don’t stop, I’m going to absolutely rampage.” Peter looked up, and smirked.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry Mr. Stark.” He stopped his fingers, a bit confused as to how long he had been tapping them anyways. Truth was, Peter could care less about the work in front of him. He and Mr. Stark had been doing updates to FRIDAY, and Peter’s attention span had been waning for the last hour and a half.
Peter rolled his neck, the muscles in his back stiff as he looked at the clock. He still had three more hours of time in here. Normally it was too short of a time with Tony in Peter’s eyes, but right now, he just wanted to lay down.
He cried out suddenly, dropping the pen he was holding. “What the heck?” He blurted, short gasps of air coming from his mouth as his arm locked up.
Tony looked over at Peter, concern in his eyes. “What’s up kid?” Peter hunched over, laughing through the pain.
“My arm is like- ow- spazzing!” He laughed through the pain, it didn’t hurt enough for him to scream, it felt like the one time on patrol when he had been shocked with a woman’s stun-gun when she thought he was trying to grab her. It didn’t necessarily hurt, just locked his joints up a bit. Tony just rolled his eyes and went back to work.
Peter spent the night at the tower. It was Friday night, and May was on a weekend shift. Peter would normally either stay with Ned or Tony on these weekends, and Ned had called Peter saying he had come down with a cold. So, Stark tower it was. He sat opposite of Steve and Bucky who were watching the newest Yankees game. Peter felt exhaustion pulling at his eyes, but he forced himself to look back down at the homework he had been working on. Tony was on some conference call that Pepper had forced him to take, and he could hear Clint and Nat in the kitchen arguing about how to properly cook spaghetti while Wanda just laughed.
The Avengers floor had a large commons area. There was the television, kitchen, dining area and a couple of video games. It was a flat and open space. It had two sides to it. The left side led to the bathrooms, and training area. The right side led to all of the bedrooms. Tony had offered to put Peter on his private floor, but Peter just shook his head. He liked being a part of the team like that.
As the night wore on Tony and Pepper filled into the commons room. Clint had ruined the Spaghetti, don’t even ask Peter how because he didn’t know that was possible. So Tony had grumbled and ordered pizza from the nearest store.
Peter looked at the food on his plate and sighed, his appetite still completely gone. He forced himself to take a couple of bites before he set it down, wincing at the tightness in his jaw. He began to tap his fingers on his leg, there was an itch in the back of his mind like his hand was being forced to move. Peter watched the movie in front of them. Wanda had gotten to choose tonight, and she had wanted to watch Chasing Mavericks. It was a movie Peter had never seen, but so far, he had kind of liked it. It was about this guy that, against the bad hand the world had dealt him, had found a father figure to replace the lack of his own. The older man, Frosty, took Jay under his wing, teaching him how to not only surf some of the largest and most dangerous waves in the world, but also how to be a better man.
Peter couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking over to look at Mr. Stark. The older man had Peter’s feet laid over her legs, an arm around Pepper and a pen twirled in his fingers. As Peter watched the movie, seeing as Frosty lost his wife, and Jay helped him back from his guilt and grief, he felt every emotion that the characters felt. He saw as Frosty watched, heart in his throat, as Jay almost died surfing the mavericks. Then, the pain in Frosty’s eyes when Jay did die, taken too soon by his own drive for greatness.
The movie ended, and Peter saw Tony, wiping his eyes as he leaned back. Natasha had passed out, sitting with her back up against Bucky’s legs. Bucky and Steve had been squished onto the couch together, looking a bit uncomfortable but relaxed, nonetheless. Clint had fallen asleep with his head on Bruce’s shoulder, who in turn had his chin on Clint’s head. The two would freak when they saw woke up.
Peter went to sit up and frowned at the tightness in his limbs. He felt like his joints had been bolted together and were unable to bend. Peter cracked his jaw and rolled his shoulder. He was still a bit too emotional from the movie to talk, so he stood up and sighed.
“See you tomorrow, kiddo. I was thinking that we could just have a lazy day at home. Watch some movies, fool around in the lab. The works.” Tony said as he helped pull an exhausted looking Pepper to her feet.
“Great sounds, Mr. Stark.” Peter turned to go to his room, stopping at Tony’s chuckle.
“Yeah, you do need to go to bed if you’re talking like that, Pete. G’night.” Peter didn’t know what the older man was talking about, so he just continued walking towards his room.
And with that, the boy made his way stiffly to his room, fumbling for the king-sized bed and essentially collapsing onto it. School and patrol had really been kicking his butt recently. It had totally zapped his energy, so he was pretty glad to be able to just relax this weekend. Peter closed his eyes, and that was it.
After the weekend at the tower Peter had finally felt rested. He went to school on Monday happy as could be to be there. Then of course it all went to hell. He had been having a fine weekend. His memory had been a little short, and he kept getting his words mixed up, but Peter had just attributed it to him having been so tired. And, no one had seemed to notice so it wasn’t a big deal anyways.
He was at Decathlon practice when it happened. Peter had been sitting beside Flash and Betty, answering question after question when there was a strange popping sensation in the back of his head. Peter sat up a bit straighter, but he just ignored it, waiting for the next question.
“Uh- Peter?” He looked up to where MJ was standing with the flashcards in her hands, a strange expression on her normally straight-laced face.
That’s when he heard the dripping noise and felt liquid on his mouth. Peter put his hand up to his nose and pulled it away. More shocked and annoyed by the sight of the bright red liquid than anything. That’s when he noticed that it wasn’t just dripping, his nose was pouring blood.
Peter pulled his jacket off, holding it up to his nose as he pushed his seat back clumsily.
“Mr. Parker, do you need to go to the nurse?” Harrington asked in his normally panicked voice. “No, I-I’m…” He frowned, completely losing his train of thought as the jacket in his hand kept getting wetter under his nose.. “Bathroom, I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
He pushed past the others, bending his knee in annoyance at the stiffness it held. It made him think of his old bike. The kickstand had been rusted, so he could flip it down easily enough, but whenever he tried to pop it back up it would just stick down, aching and squealing in protest as he forced it upwards.
Peter walked, albeit gimpily to the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped into the fluorescently lit room.
And his mind blanked. Why was he in the bathroom? Why was his hand pressed to his face? And why on earth did it feel so sticky? Peter turned to leave, pulling the jacket away from his nose when he stopped. His nose was bleeding? When did his nose start bleeding? It didn’t feel like he had gotten punched and he was still at school, so he shouldn’t be having any injuries from school.
Peter grabbed a couple of paper towels and bent over the sink. He closed his eyes, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It just continued gushing, running down the sink. He breathed out, praying it would stop soon.
“Peter!” Ned’s voice had Peter snapping his head up. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend, his head pounding. When he looked at himself in the mirror he stopped. Under his nose was a smear of dried blood, and there was a deep red mark on his forehead from where he had been leaning against the edge of the sink.
“What, jeez, Ned! Don’t scream at me like that, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”
“Dude, you’re Spiderman and me saying your name is going to do you in?” He said in a voice that made Peter pause. Ned had this tone to his voice that he only got when he was freaked out about something.
“Ned!” Peter looked around in wild panic as he dampened some paper towels to wipe the blood from his face. “Someone is going to hear you!” Ned just looked at him. His friend’s face was completely slack and dumbfounded.
“Peter… it’s been two hours! Tony called me, and I told him you had to have goen home because you never came back to practice! I thought you’d gone home after the whole nosebleed thing. Then- then I just come in here to pee before I go home and you’re just like- dude, you were in some freaky trance! Eyes closed, bent over the sink! Are you okay? Is this, should we like, call Mr. Stark about this?” Ned asked so many questions that he just frowned.
“No, no I’m ok, Ned. I think- I think I’m just tired. I need to go, ok?” Ned just watched as Peter pushed past him. “I’m fine, really! I’ll see you tomorrow!” He said, bringing his hand up to his jaw as he began to rub it again. God, his bones felt so stiff.
Peter stepped outside and pulled his phone into his hand. His heart plummeted. Twelve missed texts from Tony! He was so dead!
Hey kid, you still coming to work on the new update for Karen today?
Yo- you ignoring your old man now? I’m completely offended.
Blink once if you are in trouble.
Peter, kid? You’re friend Ned said you left to go home? Everything peachy clean?
Alright, I’m kind of panicking. Please call me.
Now.
Kid, I mean it. Like NOW!
Ok, your phone is saying it has no signal.
So help me GOD if you turned off your tracking again
PETER!
Alright, I’m sending the avenger’s out now.
Call me!
He didn’t get service in the bathroom he had been in, and Peter hit the call button. One ring later and Tony was yelling in his ear.
“Mr. Stark.” He winced again, pulling the phone from his ear. Something was wrong. He couldn’t think. Peter looked around him and stopped. He was in front of some massive building. He could see a football field and stairs. The building behind him looked somewhat like a prison as Peter turned in a circle. “I’m-” He lost the word for it. “I don’t k- I can’t think!” He finally forced out of his increasingly uncomfortable mouth, rubbing his jaw once more.
“Ok, your tracking is on now.” Tony’s voice was deadly serious as he picked up the predicament his kid was in. “Your friend said he found you bent over the bathroom sink, Bucky is closest to you, but I’m on my way.”
Peter wanted to speak, but he was hit by a wall of fatigue. He heard someone calling his name, but his phone clattered to the ground as his hand fell limp at his side. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been completely cut.
He swayed. Peter heard yelling, but he couldn’t comprehend the words. He was exhausted, feeling as though he had been running for three hours.
He fell. Unable to hold himself up on his shaking knees anymore. Then he felt arms on his,
lowering him to the ground.
“Hey, woah- woah kid. Hang on, Tony’s almost here. Geez, what did you smoke?” He heard Bucky above him, and Peter could feel as the ex-assassin sat him up, leaning Peter back against his chest to keep him supported.
“I- Buck- I can’t think- I don’t. Working, words aren’t.” He could feel the man looking at him, but Peter just wanted help. He was so confused, and nothing was making sense. And what was this happening to him?
He heard the sound of repulsors and felt more hands on him then Tony’s worry ridden face was in front of him.
“Kid, what’s going on?” It was then that Peter realized he was crying.
“I don’t- Tony- I can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” The older man held his hand out, eyebrows creased heavily.
“Okay, alright. Brucy is waiting on us at the tower, and he’s going to get you all figured out. I swear, if you have alcohol in your system, I’m going to lose it.” Tony’s voice was deadly serious, but Peter knew he was just teasing to work through the anxiety he was feeling.
“Where- where- are? Where am I?” He stuttered out, looking around, his eyes doing everything they could to put two and two together.
Tony jerked his head to look at Bucky, he was still holding Peter’s limp head up. “Did he hit his head?”
“No, I caught him when he fell. I looked, no dilated pupils or bumps on the skull. I have no clue what’s going on.” He said, concern evident in his voice.
“Kid, we’re at Midtown right now.” Peter blinked. Midtown. That was his school. Terror began to grip at his heart and Peter looked around him. He had walked these sidewalks for years. He had been going to midtown for four years, and now he couldn’t even recognize where he was.
“What’s wrong with me?” He whispered. Saying it so quietly that only Tony heard. The man bent down, hands around Peter’s face, looking him dead in the eye.
“I don’t know, buddy. But I am going to figure it out, okay. You just relax. We are going to get everything taken care of.” Peter just stared at him; eyes wide. Tony then stood up, one hand on Peter’s bicep and one on his forearm. Bucky also shifted around, doing the same on Peter’s left side. He was completely limp, muscles absolutely exhausted as he was pulled up. Peter’s legs were completely straight as he stood. Bucky and Tony were the only reason he wasn’t falling flat on his face.
“Think you can walk, Kid?” Bucky asked from next to him. Peter grunted, moving his legs forward carefully. It was like he was being forced to walk through a mud pit, his limbs feeling as though they weighed thousands of pounds. He could see the car pulling up, a worried Steve and Clint watching him from the front seats. They leapt out, opening the door closest to the trio.
“Hey, kid. You’re looking like you had a bit too much to drink.” Clint quipped as he helped bend Peter’s knees to get him into the seat, but Peter knew he was terrified. The more time you spent with Clint, the more you realized that his humor covered up all other emotions that he felt. Bucky slipped to the other side of the car, helping to pull Peter through.
He leaned his head back, sinking into the leather seats as Tony and Bucky supported him on both sides, hands hovering as they wondered what to do. Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed into his thigh. Peter cried out, hunching over. Hands were on him immediately, sitting him back as he continued to cry out.
“What’s going on?” Steve asked from the driver’s seat. Tony and Bucky were bracing Peter back, holding him up against the seat as he continued to squirm in pain.
“I don’t know, just get us to Bruce!” Tony kind of yelled, the team just knew that whenever someone Tony loved was in harm’s way, he got like this. Tense, agitated, and quick to snap. But, no one cared. They all knew that it was only because he cared so deeply and couldn’t stand to see anyone he loved in pain. Strangled cries came from Peter’s mouth, and a hand quickly cupped the back of his head.
“Kid, we are going to get all of this figured out. Hang on for us, alright? I think you’re having a muscle spasm right now, good ole’ Charly Horse, yeah? No big deal, guys that play football get em’ all the time. They hurt like a bitch, but just try and relax.” Bucky said as Peter just let his head go limp. He was so, so tired, everything around him seeming to sap every ounce of energy he had.
“That’s a good idea. Kid, just try and close your eyes and relax, alright?” Peter grunted, whether in agreement or agitation he didn’t know. His eyes closed, but his mind stayed awake.
The conversations making less and less sense to him as he drifted somewhere else.
“I don’t know what this is.” A panicked voice started. “He’s been acting weird the past couple of weeks, losing his train of thought and stuff but, God, this? He just, he seems completely out of it. He didn’t know where we were, and I- God, if I didn’t know better it seems like the same thing that happened to my grandmother.” Tony said from beside him. Peter listened, but he didn’t hear.
“Like what?” Steve asked from the front.
“Like- I hate to say this…” Tony paused, obviously deep in thought. “It’s like Alzheimer’s”
Peter woke up to Bucky and Tony pulling him carefully from the car. Natasha was holding a wheelchair in place, her normally placate face creased with worry at the sight of the teen who could hardly stand on his own. It as something straight from a nightmare.
“Bruce is getting a room prepped for him. He wants to start him on an MRI scan first.” Her flat tone said, but her hand found Peter’s face and she gave him a soft stroke.
“Can- can you guys, s-s-s…. quit talking about me. Like I’m not h- like I’m not here.” Every word felt like a struggle to get out. It was like his tongue had been twisted and tied and his brain was doing flips in his head. Like reaching into a bowl of random words, looking for one specific one. Natasha bends down at this as the men get Peter settled into the wheelchair.
“Kid don’t worry. Bruce and Cho are the best out there, you know that. Whatever is going on with you, we will get it figured out.” Peter rarely saw Natasha look anything other than stone-faced, but right now, her eyes had an air of concern and gentleness that soothed his soul. He relaxed as he was wheeled into the tower.
“How are you feeling, Pete?” Bruce asked when they made it to the med bay. The man looked concerned, but calm as Peter was helped to sit on the reclined hospital bed.
“I don’t- I can’t- it’s…” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t think. And he was going to go crazy. Before he realized what, he had done, Peter’s phone was laying on the floor, a mirage of broken glass.
“Alright, alright. Listen, you just relax. We are going to take an MRI, I think it’s possible that you hit your head, and this is just a severe concussion, alright? I’m going to get this done as quickly as possible, you just relax. If you get uncomfortable or feel off just let me know.” Peter just nodded, his eyes hot with tears, finding Tony’s as the man stared at him with worry creasing his features.
“M-m-may?” Peter stuttered out. Tony nodded, understanding completely.
“Yeah, I know. I want to wait and see what Bruce says. She’s going to be sleeping right now. Once he lets us know what’s going on, we will give her a call.” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair as one of the nurse’s brought him a hospital gown.
“I don’t think.” His voice stuttered. “I can’t do it a- a- by myself.” Tony, sad eyes and firm lined mouth, nodded.
“I know. I’ve you kid. I’ve got you.”
The MRI was torture for Tony. He stood, watching through the one-way glass, his heart in his throat. The kid had exploded, slamming his phone into the wall on the opposite side of the room with enough force for it to completely shatter. Tony and Bruce had held a brief conversation about a sedative, but since Peter had calmed down, they’d decided to hold off.
“Tony.” Bruce’s voice was low, and he jerked his head to look at the man. Everyone else was somewhere in the tower, awaiting news. He had sent Happy to get May when Bruce relayed the fact that it would be wise. Something as serious as this, it wasn’t a physical issue. He hadn’t fallen from a building, or been slammed upside the head. This was neurological. And that was scarier than anything else that could’ve happened. Peter was laid out, looking utterly too still as he stared at the white machine above him.
“Bruce.” Tony’s voice wavered, completely uncertain, and painstakingly terrified. He had risked everything; the team had risked everything for that kid. To stop Thanos, to save that boy. That boy who looked completely horrified and unaware of his body. Who was moving like an elderly person, whose brain could hardly place a thought. Tony could not lose him. Tony would not lose him. Not now, not ever.
“I think we need to sit down.” Bruce said gravely. Those were the exact words he had dreaded hearing. Tony just continued to stare at the man. Bruce, who was hiding behind his glasses, his face white as a sheet. And Tony suddenly felt the urge to vomit.
“Tell me.” He said, unable to say anything more without his voice breaking.
“Let’s si-”
“Bruce.” He said forcibly.
“It’s, God, Tony it looks like…” He paused, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He looked
as though he were about to drop to the floor. “It doesn’t make sense, but it looks like- Frontotemporal Dementia.” His voice was a hush, hardly a whisper, but Tony just stared at him like he was a foreign language.
“Dementia? Bruce, he-he’s eighteen. He doesn’t have Dementia!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands. Because no matter how much he argued the point, it wouldn’t matter. Because Bruce wouldn’t have said that if it couldn’t happen.
“It’s rare, Tones. But, it’s the only type of Dementia that can affect young people, and… Tony I think that the advancement that the spider bite gave him… I think that it is working against him and speeding up the process. His symptoms started until last week, and it just doesn’t move this fast.” Bruce gestured to the kid. “This is- it’s moving too fast.” Tony took a deep breath, feeling as though he was underwater.
“What’s going to happen?” His voice was deathly low, but Bruce heard.
“It looks to be in a more advanced place. He’s going to have problems holding things, moving, walking. We need to be careful and watch that he doesn’t fall. It will become hard for him to eat, and drink, his muscles essentially will start cramping or seizing up, he won’t be able to move. He… it’s not fatal in itself. But, God-” Bruce’s head fell into his hands. “There’s essentially no way to keep him from getting pneumonia. He will stop being able to move, and when the body lays in one position like that, it just- it’s not good.” And Tony felt like he was dying. Right then and right there. And he grabbed Bruce’s arm, because he couldn’t stand up.
“Tony, I need you to breathe.” Bruce’s voice filled his brain as Tony sank against the wall.
“I can’t- Bruce- I can’t lose him.” Bruce kneeled in front of Tony.
“I will figure this out. Be there for him. Don’t act like he’s dumb or missing something. Treat him as normally as you can. I want him to stay on the Floor with everyone until… as long as he can.” Bruce grimaced as he stood up. “I’m going to give you a minute, and I’m going to go
talk to Peter. Talk to his aunt. I won’t stop until I can find a way to fix this.”
There were tears and denial from everyone. Peter didn’t understand half of what Bruce told him; he just knew that whatever was going on was bad. It was bad for him, and everyone around him was upset. Bruce promised to not stop trying. Whatever that meant.
May was there. She was crying and kept holding his head to her chest. Peter was sat on the couch with a blanket up to his chest. Tony was standing in the kitchen, and he had been looking down at the same cup of coffee for the past twenty minutes. Peter blinked heavily, his head dropping towards his chest.
“Why don’t you take a nap, Pete?” May’s voice was soft as she played with his hair. Peter did feel exhausted. He leaned his head against her arm.
“It’s like-like a …” He couldn’t think.
“It’s okay, just relax right now, baby.”
“It’s like a storm.” He muttered. May tilted her head, looking at him with tears rimming her eyes.
“What?” His eyes were closed as he released a deep breath. He felt Tony’s hand on his hair, and he sighed.
“This. ‘s like a storm.”
It only got worse. Tony had called in every single doctor he could think of. He had called in Cho, Strange, even doctors from Thor’s world. No one could find a cure. Tony was sat with Peter today. May had a double shift at the hospital, and he had Peter duty. The kid was staring at the television. Nothing hurt Tony more than the silence from his kid. Peter had always been the chipper, chatting one. He was the one that was talking when Tony had been anxious or stressed about something. Now, Peter hardly spoke. The dementia was progressing faster than any of them had been ready for. The kid could hardly speak without stuttering. He was constantly confused, and he could hardly eat or drink anything, choking to the point that they had put in a feeding tube and he was now connected to an IV of fluids at all times.
Tony looked at the kid, biting his lip as he bent his head, doing everything he could to hold back a sob. Peter’s face was void of any emotion as he sat, and Tony couldn’t handle it anymore. He needed an ounce of recognition, a hint of a smile.
“Hey, Pete. Do you want to go outside? I’ll take you for a stroll?” Peter made eye contact with Tony before offering a stiff nod. “Alright. Let me grab you a jacket and the wheelchair.” Peter just stared back at the television as Tony pushed himself off the couch. The kid hadn’t been able to eat much before the feeding tube, and even with it he was losing weight, which meant he was always freezing. As Tony walked from the hallway with the items, he needed his heart dropped.
“Pete!” He raced forward, the teen lying face down on the ground, trying and failing to push himself up, the IV had been ripped from his arm. Tony grabbed him and got him in a sitting position. “Are you hurt?” The boy just stared at him; no recognition is his eyes. Tony felt his blood running cold. “Peter, are you hurt?” He pronounced each word very bluntly, but the boy shook his head, his body shaking slightly.
“Need’d you.” He forced out from his locked jaw. Tony grinned, knowing it didn’t reach his eyes.
“That’s okay, kiddo. I’ve got you.” He managed to get Peter into the wheelchair, tucking the sweatshirt he grabbed, which just so happened to be his MIT one, over the boy’s head before slipping the IV back into the teen’s arm. He decided to tuck a blanket around the kid as well, making sure he stayed warm.
It was dark out, and the lights of the city blinked at the two of them. Peter’s favorite spot was on the roof, looking over New York. They hadn’t talked about spider-man since Peter got sick, but he knew the kid missed it drastically, could see it in the boy’s face.
“M’ scared.” Tony looked down, seeing tears in the kid’s eyes. He knelt next to him, touching the boy’s face gently.
“It’s going to be okay, Pete.” Heart being torn from his chest.
“Miss it.” A tear dropped down his cheek and Tony’s thumb caught it.
“I know. I know you do.” He needed a cure, God let Bruce find a cure.
“M’ lost, T’ny.” And that did it. It was a sledgehammer straight to his heart. Tony’s calloused hands cupped the teens face, and his distant eyes focused in.
“You’re not lost. It just feels like you are. Bruce isn’t- we aren’t going to let you go somewhere that we can’t follow.” Each word dripped with emotion. Peter nodded. He was more coherent right now than he had been in the past several days, and Tony was soaking it all in. He pulled the kid from the chair, sitting both of them on a couch that he had set up outside, just for these moments. He grabbed a blanket and pulled a hat on Peter’s head for him. The two sat, listening to the soft music that FRIDAY had turned on, and for a second- one split second- everything was normal.
Then Peter coughed.
Ton sat at the table of the commons room, staring at his food and trying to force himself to eat. May was with Peter and Cho, working on finding a way to bring his fever down. Let’s just say, when Peter got sick, he got sick violently. He was coughing up a lung and you could read the discomfort in every labored breath he took. What had the medical team so worried, was the levels of his fever. The kid was racked with chills, and his fever was verging on 104, and Tony ached to see the kid’s hazy eyes.
He felt a presence behind him and looked up. Helen stood, looking exhausted as she watched him.
“How is he?” Tony knew, but he still dreamed that he would ask that question and it would be, He’s healed, Tony! And he would never have to let the kid get out of his sight again.
“Not good.” Cho sat, sipping the tea that she held. “I don’t know how much longer he has, to be honest with you.” Tony felt his entire chest darken, running a hand over his mouth.
“How did this happen? No one in his family showed signs of it, Helen! I looked into his family’s medical records; they show nothing like this! Not a single one of them had anything close to dementia or Alzheimer’s, and I’m just supposed to expect that this is completely random?” He dropped his face into his hands.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because nothing came of it.” Cho looked down. “When Peter first came in and we took his blood, there were… abnormalities in it. A strange chemical mixture that I couldn’t quite make out.” Tony sat up straighter. “I still have the sample, and I’ve been looking into it, but nothing has come of it. If it were-” She stopped herself looking down, and a burning anger filled his chest.
“If it were what?” She bit her lip.
“It was foul play,” and his breath was torn away from him. “then it wouldn’t matter right now, because I haven’t been able to curate a way to stop this anyways, and I’ve been trying. I had Natasha looking back to see if Peter ever got hit with any kind of dart or injected with anything, she’s been looking since he came in last week but nothing’s come up.” Tony’s hands were shaking as he watched her. “I- the pain he’s in… I need to start him on Morphine.” Tony felt his chest tightening.
“Morphine is a death sentence.” He choked out, unable to breath.
“It- it doesn’t look good. He’s in pain right now. His body is shutting down and he’s sick. I’ll give you until the end of the day, but Tony- I won’t let him suffer any longer than that.” She said firmly, as Tony stared at the wall in front of him.
“I will fund whatever you need. I will get you every scientist in the world. Get my boy back.” He stood, completely abandoning the food on the table.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a very unlucky person out there waiting for me to hunt them down. Someone did this to my kid, I just know it. I have to find them. I have to do something.”
He took Clint, Natasha, and Bucky with him. He needed to be sure that he had a team of people willing to do whatever it took to get this son of a bitch. Tony had scoured every ounce of footage from Peter’s suit, and he had found it. There was a man that Peter had fought, of course he had won, but the man had gotten a small cut onto Peter. Of course, the kid hadn’t thought anything of it, but as Tony had FRIDAY read into who the man was, he found out that he was a scientist from OSCorp, and there was no way that he was completely innocent.
They had found his home and waited until nighttime. When they ambushed, it had only taken Natasha three and a half minutes to get the cure from him. Tony had already called SHIELD. Whenever the psycho, who said he wanted to see how Peter’s Spider DNA reacted to the Dementia, got out of the hospital, he would be in prison for a very very long time.
Tony raced back to the tower, stopping in his tracks when he heard May weeping. I’m too late. He thought to himself. Peter was dying a terrible, painful death, and he was too late. Bruce came sprinting around the corner, his face pale and sweating.
“Please tell me he-”
“Not yet, but God- I would never give him something like this without testing it, but we don’t have time. I just pray that it kick starts his healing factor, because. Well, I’m not going to lie to you, without it he doesn’t have long. His fever is too high and with the way his muscles are shutting down, he’s losing his ability to clear his airway by coughing. Helen’s going to administer Morphine in twenty minutes if this does nothing.” Tony gave the man the vial and followed as they raced to the room, ignoring the growing shaking of his hands.
May was weeping, Her face laying in Peter’s hand on the bed. The ventilator hissed as it did everything it could to do the job his lungs couldn’t. His face was ghastly pale, the bags under his eyes dark enough to look racoon-ish. He looked so thin, and weak. Tony hated it. He hated every second of seeing his kid look like this.
“Okay, Peter. If you can hear me, we have something to give you.” Helen said from where she entered the room behind Tony. May looked up, tear stained eyes that held a haunted
hope. Because if this didn’t work- they knew the outcome.
Helen prepped the needle and walked to the port in his left arm. She bent her head down, saying a quick prayer. Tony did the same. She inserted the honey-looking liquid in. And they waited. Nothing happened.
The respirator hissed. The pulse ox beeped, dangerously low, and the heart monitor seemed to be counting down the seconds. Everything seemed to slow down drastically, as Tony rubbed his hand over the boy’s forehead, hand gripping his kid’s tightly.
Then doe brown eyes slipped open. And they held more recognition and love in them than Tony had seen in weeks. And he thought his knees would buckle.
Tony gripped the boy’s hand, staying out of Cho and Bruce’s way. They began examining him, giving him his pain medications that would work now that his metabolism was working again. The boy may at least be awake, but he was still sick. His metabolism working the way it was, had him beginning to fight the ventilator that he was on, and Tony put a placating hand on his shoulder, steadying the kid best he could. “We’ve got you Pete, we’ve got you.” He said over and over as the boy squeezed his hand, brown eyes blown wide. He knew this would be terrifying. He knew Peter would have a long road of recovering ahead of him, but they could do this.
By the time Cho and Bruce left, Peter was falling back asleep with exhaustion. The respirator would stay in until his lungs cleared, which, with his healing rates, shouldn’t take longer than a couple of days.
May had stepped out to go shower when the boy fell back asleep, Tony having promised to stay with him. He had pulled a chair closer to the teen’s bed, tucking a blanket into his lap as he waited for the boy to wake up.
“I missed you, kiddo. God, I was terrified.” He whispered as he sat, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. He hadn’t expected the kid to wake up with the amount of drugs he was on, but he felt the hand tightening around his own.
Soft brown eyes forced themselves open, and Peter was looking at him, trust filling his eyes, and Tony knew he would never again take him for granted. “Hey kid.” Peter’s hand tightened on Tony’s. The man leaned forward, shushing Peter gently as he blinked. “Just rest, Pete. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be here for the rest of your life. Whenever you need me.” Peter had tears in his eyes, and Tony just hushed him once more, running his thumb across the boy’s cheek. “You’re not lost anymore, Pete. We found you.” He closed his eyes as Tony continued playing with his hair. “We found you.”