Holding on

After the battle

The drones were gone, Beck was dead, EDITH was back in his possession - and he’d just kissed MJ. She really liked him, after everything, she really liked him.

He smiled.

Stood among the wreckage of what had happened, Peter didn’t really know what to do next. He saw the blue lights of the emergency services approaching the bridge on each side and knew he had to get out before they saw him, otherwise his identity would be revealed. He put his mask back on and limped to the edge. He didn’t have any more webbing, so he climbed over the barrier and crawled along the underside of the bridge towards the Tower of London, where he knew MJ had headed back to just minutes earlier.

“Peter you there?” Happy said, through the comms. “Are you OK?”

“Uh… gimme... a... minute,” Peter said, trying to conserve his energy just to get to dry land. The adrenaline crash had begun. Every one of his muscles was protesting, his back was stinging angrily, his head was spinning. It was taking every last drop of effort to get to safety.

“I’m near the Tower of London OK? The jet’s been blown up.”

Peter couldn’t answer, could barely focus. He reached the perimeter wall of the Tower of London and made his way through the small opening previously used by Kings and Queens to accept prisoners. Traitors’ Gate…so ironic.

Dry land was just inside, a small patch of grass by the drawbridge. Sacred ground.

As his feet hit the floor, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, the smell of the grass a blissful contrast to the burning fuel and dust at the bridge. The exhaustion and pain enveloped him, and he knew no more.

---------

Happy stood by the burning wreckage of his jet, with Peter’s class group not 20 yards away. Peter’s friends, the ones he’d been with inside the vault, refused to leave his side.

“Why did Spider-Man want you to keep us safe?” said Betty.

“Because he’s awesome and he cares about us New Yorkers, that’s why,” said Flash, about to start a new live stream.

Ned and MJ gave each other a knowing look.

“Sir, have you heard from Spider-Man?” Ned said. “Is he OK?”

“No, he was hurt before this fight, and now he’s gone silent,” Happy said, worryingly.

“We should try to find him,” MJ said, concern etched on her face. She turned to Ned and whispered in his ear. “I just saw him on the bridge and he said he was OK but he looked bad.”

“I noticed the blood on your shirt,” Ned whispered back. “That’s not yours is it?” She nodded nervously.

“Sir maybe we should split up? He knows you’re here right?” Ned said. Then, a sudden look of realisation. “He’ll have a tracker in his suit! Mr Happy, he’ll have a tracker! Can I use your phone?”

“Sure kid,” Happy said, handing over his handset to the second teenager that day. He watched as Ned frantically tapped away on the screen, mumbling to himself about accessing his server at home. Suddenly, he began to run.

Happy and MJ followed, leaving Betty and Flash behind, bemused. “I’ll be right back babe!” Ned shouted to Betty as he approached the Tower gate.

It wasn’t long before they reached the drawbridge, and saw the prone figure of a bloodied and battered Spider-Man laid on the grass.

“Oh my God!” MJ shouted, her hand covering her mouth. The trio surrounded him, rolling him over, and pulling his mask up to see his face. “He’s alive,” Happy said. “But we need to get help.”

Happy grabbed his phone back from Ned and dialled furiously. “Fury we need medical assistance, Spider-Man is down… he’s unconscious, burns on his back, bad leg injury sustained in Berlin has definitely been aggravated. We’ll know more once the suit is off...OK see you shortly.”

“They’re bringing a car, we need to move him but we can’t have anyone seeing him,” Happy told the group.

MJ got up from beside Peter and ran off, much to Ned and Happy’s confusion. Within seconds she returned with a Guardsman and a Yeoman Warder. They had an army issue stretcher. “These guys are going to help us.”

“Wow, thanks,” Happy said, impressed by her quick thinking.

“Not a problem sir,” said the Yeoman. “We understand from this young lady that he’s responsible for stopping this attack and that his identity must remain unknown. So, we’ll cover him with this robe and move quickly. Unfortunately, we know a few people have died in the incident so another ‘body’ won’t look like a shock to people.”

Well, that was sobering.

MJ took Peter’s limp hand. “I’ll see you soon, OK Spider-Man? Just be OK.”

A single tear fell down Ned’s cheek. “He’s gonna be alright, isn’t he Mr Happy?”

“Course he is,” he said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “I will take care of him. You guys go back to your class. Not sure when you’ll be home now though, I should imagine the air space around London will be closed for a while.”

“Keep in touch with us?” Ned pleaded.

“Sure I will kid, just get back to your class. It’ll raise suspicion if you don’t go.”

Happy helped the two soldiers gently lift Peter onto the stretcher, covered him in the robe and walked with them through a different exit and to the black car waiting on the roadside. Happy got in the back first, helping the two soldiers lay Peter out on the back seat, his head rested on Happy’s leg. Happy pulled the kid’s mask off, knowing his identity was now safe within the confines of the car and its blacked-out windows.

“Where are we going Fury?”

“Safehouse just outside London, we’ve got doctors on the way there now. MI6 medics so they know to keep a secret.”

The drive wasn’t too long, the safe house a totally inconspicuous three-storey townhouse just outside Croydon with a garage in the bottom. The car pulled in, the garage door shut behind them, and for the first time that day, Happy felt like he could breathe again.

Happy, Fury and Hill lifted the boy from the back seat, Happy gripping him under his shoulders, and Fury taking the weight of his legs. Soon, they were upstairs and into a makeshift medical room next to a large open-plan kitchen.

“How do we get this suit off Hogan?” Fury said, an MI6 doctor and a nurse beginning to set up monitoring machines and preparing for treatment. Happy pressed the spider emblem of the suit and it released, going baggy around the teen’s prone body. The nurse pulled the suit off carefully, revealing the tapestry of ageing and new bruises. “Let’s get that back looked at and dressed first,” the doctor said. “Sir, what do we need to know about his...enhancements?”

“He’s got fast healing, and high metabolism, so regular pain relief doesn’t work as well as it should. He struggles with temperature too. So long as it’s warm in here he’ll be fine,” Happy said. ”He’ll want to be going home with his friends, so as soon as he’s awake he’ll want to leave. And I will help him do that.”

“Well then,” the nurse said. “We’d rather not have him for any longer than we need to, so we’d better get to work.”

Happy, Fury and Hill went to the kitchen and sat with a coffee while the medics cleaned Peter up, dressed his burns and put him on oxygen and an IV of morphine, antIbiotics and saline.

“I think he is out through pure exhaustion,” the doctor said to the trio, pulling off his gloves having finished his work. “He’ll need some kind of cast on that leg, I’ve done an X-Ray scan and he’s got an incomplete fracture in his femur and it’ll be a full break if he puts any more strain on it. We have some discreet carbon fibre casts our agents use. We’ll have one made for him by the end of play today. That should see it stabilised until it’s healed.”

“Thanks very much, we’ll be happy to return the favour should your agents ever find themselves in need of our assistance,” Fury said.

Six hours later

After Fury and Hill left to do some kind of debrief, or so they said, Happy was left alone with his thoughts.

He used the time to speak to Pepper and update her about the jet and to call May to update her - he’d already lied to her once to say her nephew was fine, he didn’t want to worry her to be honest and knowing Peter’s healing factor he thought all would be well by the time they got home. Now, though, he couldn’t not tell her. She was panicking and worried, but Happy promised he’d take care of him, and she audibly calmed after that.

He’d had an update from Ned that flights out of London were to restart the following morning and that Peter’s class would be on the 9.55 from Heathrow Terminal 3. So that bought him some time, and the chance to book a seat on the same flight home.

With all the administrative stuff done, he sat quietly and watched the boy as he rested. He focused in on the sound of the rain hitting the windows of the room, the rhythmic tapping oddly soothing.

Just as the London gloom had begun to dim into the evening half-light, Peter stirred. The teen’s face screwed up in pain, his head tossing from side to side as if in a dream. Happy put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and it was enough to pull Peter out of whatever he was going through and bring him out of his slumber.

With a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, he shot a confused look at Happy, before his eyes darted around the room, suspicious.

“Happy? Where am I?” he mumbled, half awake. He winced as he tried to sit up. “This is real, right?”

“Sure is, kid. You’re at an MI6 safe house, Fury and Hill got us here. You’re OK kid, lemme get the bed for you,” Happy said, raising the bed up so Peter was in more of a sitting position.

“Thanks… MJ… and Ned are OK? The class?” Peter’s eyes began to droop shut again, sleep attempting to claim him back.

“All fine and staying in a hotel near Heathrow tonight, they’re on a flight home in the morning. Don’t worry you’ll be there too. We’ll get a taxi there first thing.” Happy paused, fiddling with the EDITH glasses. “You did amazing out there today Peter. I’ve… I’ve never seen you do what it is that you do before. I can totally see what Tony saw in you now. You’re special, kid.”

Peter didn’t really know what to say to that, laying his head back on the soft pillow.

“Anyway, you did fracture your leg, as you thought. The Brits have this fancy cast thing their spies use so they’re delivering one for you shortly. Apparently, you can wear it under your jeans for a couple of days until it heals up properly.”

“That’s good,” Peter said, through gritted teeth. “It really hurts, everything hurts,” he confessed.

“I’m sure it does kid. They put you on morphine even though I told them it probably wouldn’t work.”

“That’ll explain the dizziness then, morphine makes me dizzy. Does nothing for pain though,” He said the last sentence with a huff, and Happy couldn’t help but notice a bead of sweat trickling down the side of the teen’s head, clearly his body was working overtime to deal with the pain he was in. Happy felt so helpless.

At that point, one of the medics came in. “Ah Mr Parker, you’re awake, that’s good,” he said. “We’ll do a check on everything shortly but more importantly, you must be hungry - any requests?”

“Don’t suppose pizza is allowed?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” the nurse said. “This is definitely a pizza kind of day. I’ll order in.”

In the 20 minutes it took for the four pizzas with various toppings to be delivered, the doctor ran all the necessary tests, apologised five times for not being able to help with the pain, and changed the dressings on Peter’s wounds, impressed to find they’d already improved by about 50 per cent.

When the pizza arrived, both Happy and Peter discovered how hungry they actually were, the smell of the dough making their mouths water and stomachs rumble. A happy silence befell the makeshift medbay as the pizzas were devoured by the four inhabitants. Peter was doing most of the eating and Happy watched, fascinated at how with every mouthful the teenager looked healthier and healthier. Clearly, the fuel was exactly what he needed, and made a mental note should anything like this happen in future. All the kid needed was a slightly warmer temperature and a truck-load of carbs to feel better.

After dinner, the two medics fitted Peter with the temporary cast for his leg, made from a super-thin carbon fibre netting that, once wrapped, and activated, solidified around the area. “You’ll be able to bear some weight through it now, but the cast is going to make sure that you don’t overdo it bending or leaping or...doing your Spider-Man thing.. because that’s what is going to cause a full break, do you understand?” said the doctor. “We don’t want that. You ready to get up?”

“Sure I’ll give it a try,” Peter said, feeling more energised now he had a full stomach. The nurse disconnected him from his IV and helped him stand. Walking was extremely painful, but nowhere near as bad as it had been, plus he was able to put his weight through his heel, rather than propped up on his toes as he had been doing since the train incident. “This is great,” he said, huffing as he gingerly paced up and down the room. “How long do you think I’ll need it?”

“Three or four days max,” the doctor said. “Looking at how much the bruising has already faded, and your other wounds have already healed, you’re very lucky. Some more rest - and plenty of food and drink will help give your metabolism the fuel your body needs to get better.”

“Sounds good!” he said, sitting back down on the bed. “Huh, that was tiring,” he added, almost surprised at how quickly his system had clearly burned through the pizza he’d eaten not minutes before. His body, his enhancements, had never gone through such a test as this one, and now he was discovering just how much his body was using its reserves to heal.

“You look like you could use another week of sleep kid, I know I do,” Happy said. “Jet lag is a bitch.”

“We’ll be upstairs in our quarters if you need anything, ok?” The doctor said, making his way out the door. “Just try to get some sleep.”

A quiet stillness fell upon the room, and Peter sank back into the pillows, attempting to get comfortable. Happy resumed his position in the armchair next to his bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose and a copy of the Evening Standard in his lap - the newspaper front page focused solely on the events of the day.

“Hey Happy,” Peter said, nervously, clearly building himself up to speak. “Why did you give MJ the necklace? Didn’t you think I was going to make it?”

“Oh Pete. I never had any doubt you’d make it. But...there was a point earlier today when I thought we wouldn’t. It was pretty scary back there. The drones were cutting apart the vault doors, and we were cornered with nothing but a couple of spears and a mace. I wanted her to know you cared about her, kid.”

“Wow.” Peter took a moment to think about that. “MJ didn’t say anything about that. I’m so sorry.”

“No need to say sorry Peter. It’s all good now and we’re all safe. You saved the world and tomorrow morning, we’re going home.

“Oh and by the way, that Quentin Beck? When you told me his name this morning it rang a bell but I couldn’t place it. Spoke to Pepper earlier while you were out for the count and it all clicked into place. He’s ex-Stark Industries staff.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. He was on the R&D team for Tony’s illusion tech, BARF? Soon after he unveiled it at the September Foundation launch he apparently went off the rails. Had some kind of a mental breakdown, smashed up one of the labs, got fired.”

“Woah. Well, that explains a lot doesn’t it?” Peter said. “You know, I’m not entirely sure he was working alone? I was thinking about it, everything had to have been choreographed, those drones don’t operate independently. And like, in Venice, it was a good few minutes before he sort of, arrived so he couldn’t have been controlling it before then? I dunno…”

“Sounds like you’re onto something. I’m sure Fury is on it too, but I’ll tell him anyway,” Happy reassured. “Don’t you worry about anything now. Beck is gone, and you’re safe. Listen, you get some sleep, I’m gonna crash on the couch, a cab is booked for 6am tomorrow morning so we’ll need to be up early.”

It didn’t take either of them long to fall sound asleep, with home on their minds.

The next morning, Peter was feeling a bit better, the pain was a little more bearable and the bruising had all but gone. MI6 had gone to great lengths to help the kid, using a picture Happy had provided of the kid to go get him a duplicate outfit - Peter was delighted when the parcel left in the kitchen contained a new version of his beloved Telekinesis tee.

A long-sleeved shirt covered the remainder of the damage, and the cast was barely visible under his jeans.

“You ready?” Happy said, still wearing his suit from the day before. “Remember, we can’t be seen together so I’m going to go into the terminal 15 minutes later than you and head straight to the airport lounge. You need anything just text me OK?”

“Sure thing.”

“And if you get pain during the flight you just give the flight attendant the codeword and we’ll sort something. That part is all arranged.”

“Yup. What’s the codeword again?”

“You ask them for chamomile tea.”

“Right.” Peter was confused by that one but just trusted in it.

The taxi ride was smooth, but Peter’s anxiety grew steadily and his ribs and leg protested with every bump and pothole on the way. Soon enough though, they were there.

As he walked into the terminal, doing a fairly average job at hiding the limp and the nerves in his stomach at what questions he might be asked about his “extended stay in Berlin”, he saw his classmates checking in. Ned and MJ ran over to him.

“Dude you’re OK!” Ned said, throwing his arms around his friend. “Yeah just about,” Peter responded, reaching a hand out to MJ, who gladly accepted it and squeezed tightly.

“We were worried about you,” MJ said.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said. “It wasn’t good. I tried to keep going but, you know… it was pretty bad.”

“You’re all healed up now though right, super strength and stuff?” Ned said.

“Yeah for the most part. Ribs are still healing, and I have this super-spy cast on my leg which is pretty cool,” Peter knocked on it for effect.

“Dope!” Ned was duly impressed.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” MJ said, with that smile that made Peter melt. “Me too,” he said, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes he couldn’t hide.

Ned broke the moment. “Come on Pete, if you come with us now we can get you sitting with us.”

And that’s what they did, Ned took the window seat, MJ the middle seat and Peter took the aisle, grateful to be able to stretch his leg out as having it bent for eight hours was not doable.

He only had to ask for chamomile tea once. He waited until both Ned and MJ were asleep to ask, though he’d needed it some hours previously. The kind air stewardess paled when he asked. “Can you stand, sir?” He nodded, pale. “I could do with moving,” he said.

The stewardess offered an arm, helping Peter twist out of his seat and get upright, before guiding him down the aisle. Some members of the class gave curious looks but the stewardess had already been briefed to tell Mr Harrington that should anything go amiss, she would tell him Peter had food poisoning. Unsurprisingly, he bought it.

Happy met Peter in the galley where the stewards take their breaks and prepare the meals.

“You OK kid? Heard you needed tea,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah, it’s um… it’s just really sore. Ribs, leg, everything. Making me feel a little sick.”

The stewardess passed Peter a glass of water while Happy produced a small pot. “The guys at the house had these made up for you, painkiller and an anti-nausea compound. Probably won’t do much but it’ll take the edge off,” said the burly bodyguard.

“Thanks,” Peter said, pushing the rising nausea down.

“Sir, we have a spare seat in first you can take if you want to lie down for a bit?” the stewardess said. “I can tell your friends and your teacher - you can go back with them when you’re feeling better perhaps?”

Peter would have protested but laying down and getting some more rest sounded like the best idea ever. Happy reassured him with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. “They’ll be fine, they understand.”

The stewardess spoke to her cabin manager and continued the food poisoning lies before making up the bed in first and then returning. “Mr Hogan if you take Peter to seat 4a, you’ll find it’s ready for him.”

Happy guided Peter through the curtain and down into first, something Peter never thought he’d see. Had he not felt so horrid he would have been awed by it but instead all he could focus on was finding a place to sit, his legs getting shakier by the second. He grabbed Happy’s arm, Happy recognising the need to act as some kind of crutch and providing the much-required resistance. By the time they reached the seat, Peter was practically clinging onto his friend, pale and sweaty.

“You don’t look so good, kid.”

“Don’t feel it. Just need some sleep and I’ll be OK.,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed and listing sideways.

“Hmm,” Happy said, lifting Peter’s legs carefully to help him into a laying position and put a blanket over him. “Get some rest kid, I’ll come back for you in a few hours, we’ll land in five.”

Turned out sleep was just what Peter needed, as the rest worked a treat. Happy and the stewardess checked on him regularly and when it came to waking him, found the teen much improved, about to the level he was when he’d woken at the safe house that morning. Sure, more rest was required, but that could all be gained in the comfort of his new home with May.

He returned to sit with Ned and MJ, successfully avoiding too much fuss from Mr Harrington who just seemed relieved to see some colour back in his student’s face. He was also successful in hiding his limp in front of the rest of the class as they got through passport control, and holding hands with MJ was just the reassurance he needed.

“Don’t be late,” she said of their date later that week. He was so excited, there was no way he was going to miss it.

After the shock and eye-roll of discovering Ned and Betty’s big romance was over, he said his goodbyes and went to find May. Although he didn’t want to worry her, he didn’t have to hide the limp, and slowly came to her for a hug at the drop-off area.

“Peter! Oh my god, it’s so good to see you, I got you a sandwich.”

He gingerly got into May’s “new” old car and took in the moment. The inside of the car was filled with her familiar Chanel perfume, the sandwich tantalisingly warm in his hands, a date with MJ next week and home comforts not a half-hour’s drive away.

“So are you OK Peter? Happy told me what happened, said you got hurt in London, you hurt your leg and your ribs and your back… you worried the heck out of me,” May said, eyes fixed on the road, but filling with tears.

“Um, yeah I’m not going to lie, it hurt at the time, it still hurts now. Pain relief doesn’t really work but sleep seems to help so, yeah, bed for me when we get home,” he said, wincing as he stretched out his injured leg.

“You’re not moving from that bed young man,” May said. “Not until you’re pain-free.”

“But I have a date with MJ!”

“Oh, do you now?? Well, you best hope that super healing of yours kicks in quick eh? We’ll just say you have a chest infection or something or not.”
“She knows, May.”

“Oh! Well then, if she knows then she will definitely understand. Maybe if you aren’t good she can come round and you can watch movies.”

“Only if you go out,” Peter said. May looked over at her nephew, who had a mischievous smile on his face. “And NOT with Happy.”

“Peter!”