Peter has been lying for months. He tells everyone he’s okay. He hides behind smiles, but he’s dying inside. He’s so incredibly stressed over everything. He needs to be out enough to help people in need as Spider-man, stay in enough to maintain his friendships and grades, and sleep enough that he doesn’t look dead on his feet. Thank god for makeup, because otherwise the bags under his eyes couldn’t be concealed and everyone would know that he wasn’t sleeping as much as he should be. He hardly gets three hours of sleep each night, and he knows this isn’t healthy, but there isn’t anything he can really do about it. Even if he went to bed earlier, who’s to say that the nightmares wouldn’t disrupt his sleep just as much as staying out until three or four in the morning. This way, at least, he has the opportunity to save lives.
He loves having the ability to help people. It makes him feel like his parents and uncle would be proud of him each time he saves someone. He just feels like he’s trying to juggle ten knives with one hand tied behind his back. He feels like he’s failing at everything. He feels like he is a failure.
Flash’s words ring through his head over and over. ‘Penis Parker’ the voices say. ‘You’re so annoying, why don’t you just stay away from everyone, so you don’t burden them with your presence.’ Okay, maybe Flash didn’t say that one, but it was true. He was a burden. He was too loud, and only brought his peers irritation. They would be better off if he just stopped coming around.
He hums to himself softly. Everyone would be better off if he just stopped coming around. He thinks that is true. He isn’t positive. He’s just so tired and he doesn’t want to fight anymore. He’s done.
Peter stares down at the water below him. He is sitting at the top of the Queensboro bridge and he’s thinking. Honestly, he is a little scared of dying, but he is even more scared of living. He knows his aunt loves him, but he just can’t help but think that her life would be so much easier without him. He is so expensive, and New York is expensive in its own right. He just doesn’t think there would be a down-side of him dying.
A tiny voice in the back of his head tells him that he should call someone, but he doesn’t want to worry any of them. Especially if he does what he thinks he wants to do. He really does want to hear another voice and feel like another human on this planet is there with him. Especially if this is the end.
1-800-273-8255. He dials slowly with shaking fingers.
Sam had been taking some time alone since the rouge Avengers had been pardoned. He didn’t want to get entangled in the Tony/Steve hurt fest. They needed to work through their problems and learn how to trust each other again. In his time apart from the others, he settled into an apartment in Manhattan, and he had even started working at the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. It made him happy when he could talk someone down from the brink, or into a better head space. However, it was so incredibly hard when he knew that he couldn’t stop someone, or that there was nothing he could do. He knew that a lot of people had died while he was on the phone with him, and it broke his heart.
His sleep schedule was still screwed up from being on the run, so he ended up working late at night, and sleeping during the day. On this particular night, he was patched through to a call that would either make a huge difference or kill a little piece of him.
“This is the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, and my name is Samuel. Can I ask what your name is?” Sam spoke with an even tone.
“You just did.” A quiet voice echoed from the other side of the line. The voice was very flat and distant. Sam had heard this before; sometimes people called in but weren’t really listening to what was happening on the other end.
“You’re right. Can you tell me your name anyway?”
“Peter. My name is Peter.” The voice, Peter, replied.
“Alright, Peter. Are you in any kind of danger at the present moment?”
“I’m sitting on top of a bridge.” Peter’s voice got even quieter as he said this, which Sam didn’t think was possible.
“On top of a bridge? Peter, do you maybe want to climb down, just so when we talk you might be a little more comfortable?”
“No.” Was the only response he was given.
“That’s alright Peter, we can talk anyway. Maybe you would like to tell me how we got here?”
“It’s just too much.” Peter choked out.
“What’s too much?”
“Everything.” Sam felt his heart break as Peter responded. “I just have all of these responsibilities, all of these things that I HAVE to do, or someone could get hurt. And I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I can’t.”
“Peter, I don’t think that you are disappointing your parents, or anyone in your life.” Sam responded.
“I haven’t got any parents. They died when I was four. I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle, but Ben died two years ago. It was my fault. Everything was my fault.” Peter had started to cry.
“Peter, I don’t think that it could have been your fault, I’m sure no one thinks that. I’m sorry for making an assumption.”
“It was my fault though. If I hadn’t run off, he wouldn’t have followed me. He got shot because I ran off. God, everyone around me dies. It would just be better if I went too.”
“Peter, I don’t think that that would be better. Imagine how bright your future could look one day. You could fall in love, go to college, find a job you adore.”
“I already have a job I love. It’s just too much responsibility.”
“What is your current job, Peter?” Sam asked curiously.
“I can’t tell you that.”
The more this conversation continued, the more the puzzle pieces started to fall into place. Something about this kid seemed so damn familiar. He knew that Tony had an intern named Peter, and he knew that he lived with his aunt, but he didn’t know why. He had met that intern a few times, and he seemed so incredibly smart and kind, but also like he was trying to carry the world on his back.
“That’s okay, Peter. Do you think that you could tell me your last name?”
Peter hesitated on the other end for a few moments before the reply came. “Parker. My name is Peter Parker. It doesn’t really matter though. I don’t think I matter anymore.” Sam’s blood froze. Shit. This was Tony’s kid. And it didn’t sound like he was going to back down.
“Peter, I’m sure you do matter. I can’t imagine that a young kid like you wouldn’t be able to accomplish something great in their life.” Sam whipped out his personal phone. “Can you try to tell me about a time when you did something good?” He was hoping he could get the kid to tell a story so he would have time to mute the call and alert Tony of the situation.
Peter hesitated on the other line for a few moments. “I don’t think I can tell you that.” At the response, Sam cursed internally. He really didn’t want to have to text Tony about the situation, but he also couldn’t let Peter know who he was, or who he was alerting of the situation.
“Samuel, I’m just really tired and I’m sick of hurting people. I think it’s best if I just go now.”
“Peter, no. Please stay on the line with me. Why don’t we talk about something completely random? Why don’t you tell me what you see?” Sam sent a text to Tony asking if his intern’s name was, in fact, Peter Parker. The response was almost instant. Yes. This kid was really Tony Stark’s intern.
“I see the water. And the lights of the city. It’s much quieter up here. It’s peaceful. This was a good place to sit before I go.”
“It sounds peaceful. What boroughs do you see?” If Sam was able to get the right boroughs, that would narrow down Tony’s search. He quickly texted Tony about the situation. Unfortunately, the time constraint didn’t allow him the time to think about how best to phrase it, so it was rather blunt.
“Queens… and Manhattan. I love Queens, and I love helping the people. I just feel like such a curse sometimes.” Sam’s phone got a response that Tony was on his way. He let him know which boroughs Peter was between and turned his attention back to Peter. He HAD to keep him on the line until Tony got there. Tony had lost too many people already. The kid’s voice still seemed so distant, and Sam had a hard time matching the voice he heard, with the kid he had met previously.
“Samuel, I want to thank you for talking to me. I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I just didn’t want to be alone before I jumped. I-”
“Peter, no. Please don’t jump. Just hold on a little bit longer.” Sam sounded just a little frantic to his own ears.
“Peter no. Please don’t jump. Just hold on a little bit longer.” Samuel sounded desperate. Peter distantly wondered why. He was just some random suicidal kid. It wasn’t like an extra five minutes were going to make him not want to kill himself.
That’s when he heard it. The sound of repulsors. Peter narrowed his eyes. There was no fucking way.
“Samuel. Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Wilson, would it?” Peter spoke presently for the first time the entire call.
“…It is. My name is Sam Wilson.” The response wasn’t really shocking, Ironman was on his way, and his voice had sounded vaguely familiar the entire call. Peter was a fool.
“You told on me to Ironman. Dammit. I have to go now.” And he hung up. He was panicking, because he had to do this quickly. His window of time to hit the water before Tony got there was rapidly closing.
He took a deep breath………... and he jumped.
So, getting a text from Sam Wilson at two in the morning telling him that his intern was sitting on a bridge in the city about to jump was just about the worst possible thing that could have happened at that moment. He was instantly panicked as he raced from his workshop to the launch pad. He hadn’t slept in two days and was running on coffee and determination. None of that mattered though, his kid needed him.
God, how could he have not known that his kid was struggling? There had to have been signs. He had protocols in place for suicidal tendencies and red flags. He just hoped that they would never have to be utilized. He flew to the city as fast as he could and made his way to Queens.
He saw the Queensboro bridge in the distance, and he saw when something started to fall from the top.
“FRIDAY, give me EVERYTHING we’ve got in the thrusters. We have to get there now!” He was so close to the kid, he could see the knots in his hair, and the ink stain on the elbow of his sweatshirt.
Peter was going to hit the water in three seconds….
He saw his shoes were untied.
Two seconds…
He saw that his eyes were closed…
One second…
He saw the tear tracks on his face…
And he caught him.