Holding To The Ground

Tony’s leg bounced so quickly it may have been vibrating the entire way to the hospital. Tony was sure he was destroying the suspension of the car with the movement alone. Happy stared at him through the rearview mirror, but thankfully said nothing as Tony occupied himself by chewing his nails until they bled. Tony was sure that if he heard a noise other than the rumbling of the car’s engine he would explode, burst into flames.

Finally, blood dripping down his fingers, they pulled up to the Queens hospital. Tony hopped out of the car, not watching to see if Pepper had followed (which, judging by the fading sound of her voice calling every lawyer they knew, she hadn’t), and ran inside. He whipped his head from aide to side, overwhelmed by the smell of antiseptic and hundreds of hard plastic chairs and eyes starting to recognize his face until his gaze landed on a dark-skinned, female receptionist. He rushed over to her, and ignored the way her eyes went wide as dinner plates when she saw his face. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You’re Tony Stark!”

Tony ignored her. ”Where would I find someone who had been beaten and probably just gotten out of some major, life-saving surgery?” He asked quickly.

She blinked. “Uh...Jesus Christ...third floor, the ICU.”

Tony nodded, threw a hundred dollar bill into the jar full of off-brand lollipops, and ran to the elevator. The trip in the rickety lift felt like ages, though it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds when a loud ding sounded and the doors slid open with a groan. Tony stepped out and took in the room; the right wall was lined with doors, most open or cracked, where the ones left and opposite him were covered in curtains, most closed, some open to reveal sleeping patients and waiting families. A woman cried alone on a chair in the corner of the room. In the center of the large space, a male nurse sat at a desk, typing furiously away at a computer as the odd doctor hurried around him.

Tony took a breath, tried his best to emulate a professional air, and forced himself to walk slowly to the desk. “Excuse me,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Where can I find Peter Parker?”

The man lifted his head, and again Tony was met with wide eyes and a pale face. “Oh my God,” he said with a heavy southern accent.

Tony flashed a winning smile that felt like it was drawn on. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you lead me to Peter Parker?”

”Oh, my God,” the man said again.

Tony’s smile dropped. His voice harder, he leaned closer to the desk and demanded, “Tell me where Peter Parker is.”

The man broke out of his daze. “Y-yes Sir” he stammered, and typed furiously away on his computer. He hummed at whatever came up, furrowed his brow, and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but currently Mr. Parker is unconscious and can only be visited by direct family members.”

”...What?”

“I’m sorry, ICU rules,” the man said, although he had the decency to look a bit regretful.

”Alright, but—but Peter doesn’t have any biological family left. His caregiver beat him half to death and then ran off. No one else is going to try to see him, and he can’t be alone when he wakes up,” Tony bargained, running a hand through his thinning hair.

“I assure you, he will not be alone. We have a rotating team of nurses constantly monitoring his vitals and checking on him every hour.”

”Okay, but he can’t be, like, alone. He’s gonna freak out, I need to be there to calm him down and tell him what’s going on,” Tony explained, panic starting to deep into his voice.

”I’m—I’m really sorry,” said the man quietly, “but I can’t do anything. Only legal guardians and biological family members are allowed inside.”

Tony bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, a million ideas running through his head. “Alright,” he said softly. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to find Peter Parker’s room, and no one is going to bother us except to do check-ins. And, if you just so happen to find your student loans paid—“ he squinted to make out the receptionist’s name tag, “—Doug, then that will be the end of it. How about it?”

Doug bit his lip, and Tony could practically see the wheels turning in his head through his downcast eyes. But Doug soon steeled his face, and met Tony’s eyes with a new defiance, saying, “I am not going to break a vital rule to my hospital. Again, I’m very sorry, but you just cannot—“

”Mr. Stark?” A weak voice called out from his right. He turned to see—what was her name, Miriam? Madeline?—M-something standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, and just a second later, the other boy from the apartment peeked out from behind her. “What are you doing here?”

”I’m—I’m here to see Peter,” he said, his voice suddenly as small and fragile as hers.

She turned to Doug. “Peter’s out of surgery?” She asked hopefully, and stepped forwards as if ready to run through the hospital and find him.

Doug looked between them both with wide, frantic eyes. “Well, yes, but—“

”Can I see him?”

Doug groaned. “No, only direct family can—“

”But Peter doesn’t have any family!” Said the boy, and he heard the girl whisper shut up, Flash.

”Well, Ms. Jones, true as that is I just can’t help.”

”Are you seriously not listening to Tony Stark?”

”Hey, kid, I can handle this.”

”My name’s MJ. Remember, I saved Peter’s fucking life?”

”Yo, calm down, that’s Tony Stark.”

”I don’t care who he is, Flash!”

”Would you all please just—“

”No! Listen, asshole, I’ll pay your car note, send your kids to college, I’ll give you your own Iron Man suit for God’s Sake. Just let me see that kid!”

”I’m sorry! I can’t do anything—“

”If you don’t let us in my father—“

”I’ll get my foster mom down here right now—“

”I swear to god, my fiancé will drag you to hell and back—“

”What the Hell is going on out here?”

The room fell silent. A small, plump woman in a doctor’s stepped out from behind a curtain, her brows furrowed and lips pursed. One hand rested on her hip, and the other held a pen so hard Tony feared it may snap.

Doug somehow paler further. “I’m so sorry, Doctor, it’s just that this man wants to see Parker, and—“

”Are you his family?” She interrupted, staring at Tony.

He sighed. “I’m as close as he’ll get.”

The woman surveyed the room, her eyes landing on her frightened receptionist, a frazzled billionaire, and two defiant kids. Finally, she pointed to a room only three doors from MJ’s and conceded, “Go see your damn kid. God knows he’ll need someone who cares enough to raise this much Hell. Just keep it down, alright? You’ll wake up the coma patients.”

She retreated back into the curtain. Tony and MJ exchanged a quick glance. When she nodded, Tony all but ran into the room that the doctor had gestured to, MJ and Flash close on his heels. He hesitated with his hand in the doorknob, though. What would he find in there? Surely, it couldn’t be worse than what he had found at the apartment. Right? He was t sure.

He took a breath and slowly opened the door. The room was small, dark and silent, except for the beeping of machines and sharp, wheezing breaths coming from the bed. As Tony approached, his eyes adjusted, and he managed to see Peter.

Or, what little of Peter he could see. He was covered in tubes and wires, stemming from his nose, snaking out from beneath his robes, tangling his appearance. Bandages covered the right half of his face, and Tony noticed with a flip of his stomach that both arms were in casts. He was surrounded on both sides by ministers, covered in hundreds of numbers Tony didn’t understand. But at the very least, he was clean, no longer bloody or dirty, although without a thin layer of grime and sweat covering them, the horrific thinness of his features was even more prominent. Tony was almost glad that he could only see a few inches of skin, because he wasn’t sure he could handle any more.

Tony stared at Peter’s chest, focusing on its steady rise and fall, trying to ignore everything else. It was that chest that kept him grounded as he settled into an uncomfortable chair in the corner, as MJ and Flash took spots on the floor, shivering. He stared at that broken chest as he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

——

Fighting his way out of sleep was hard. It felt like thousands of hands were holding him down, forcing him back into the dark waters whenever he tried to emerge into a world that sounded like beeping and smelled like May’s bottles. Over and over, for what seemed like a hundred years, Peter was caught between the worlds of wake and sleep, trying with no avail to gain some purchase and pull himself into the real world.

Finally, seconds or years later, Peter managed to open his eyes.

Or, well, his eye. Something was covering the other, itchy and tight on the right half of his face. He also found that it was hard to breathe, like his lungs just wouldn’t expand to full capacity, like he was pressed between two rocks. Which, based on the soreness radiating through his body, may have actually happened. He groaned and stirred as the beeping surrounding him picked up its speed. It was loud, too loud, and he wanted it to stop. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but the harsh, high sound grated his ears over and over again.

He tried to lift his hands, but noticed they were heavier than they usually were, and he could barely even nudge them across the bed he lay in, so much more comfortable than the floor he had been used to sleeping in. But no, he couldn’t let himself fall back asleep. He had to get out, he had to go home before curfew, before May did something bad, before—before—

He struggled into a seated position as the walls around him started to come into focus. Holy shit, May was going to kill him. He wasn’t home, in his room, waiting for her. She was going to really kill him this time.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs halted, his uncovered eye started burning with tears as panic coursed through his veins. If he had still been home, maybe he could have reconciled with May, but now that he was here she’d never take him back, she’d kill him, she’d kill him, she’d kill him.

Peter tried to stand, but he couldn’t get his heavy legs untangled from the sheets covering him. He cursed as the tears in his eyes started to overflow, obscuring his vision even further. How was he going to get home? Where even was he? God, he was fucked, what would May do? What more could she do to him?

But then a light flicked on and soft hands were on his shoulders, connected to a lanky body draped in black fabric and curly hair, blurred by tears. “MJ,” he whispered like a prayer, like a broken dream.

She nodded shakily. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen Peter, you’ve got to lay back down, okay? The doctors said you can’t move until they observe you again.”

”Doctors? I can’t—I’ve got to get out of here, I've got to go find May—holy shit, I’m—MJ, I can’t—“ He cut himself off with a wheeze. He couldn’t breathe, his chest was on fire, but his veins were full of ice. He choked out a sob and struggled against her soft hands, so wean she hardly even moved. “I’ve got to go, I’m—God, I—m-my asthma—MJ, I can’t.”

”Peter,” she said softly, so unfamiliar in contrast to her usual cutting remarks. “You’ve got to listen to me. I need you to stay here while Flash gets the doctor. You’re in the hospital, alright? You’re safe. Just take a breath.”

But he couldn’t. His body was heavy, halted, nothing worked beneath his skin. He was shivering but he felt like he couldn’t move, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry, and he still couldn’t fucking breathe. “I need to get May, I need—I’ve got to—“

”We’re trying time find her, too,” MJ said. “We’ve been looking for her for almost two days. That’s what Tony’s doing downstairs right now. We’re going to find her, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

The ropes constraining his lungs loosened just the littlest bit. He managed to choke in a wheeze, then another. As he let out a shaking, shuddering breath, a stout woman walked in, Flash trailing close behind her. Why was Flash even here? What was going on? Questions hurtles through his brain, swirling too fast to understand.

She looked him up and down before even entering the room. “I didn’t think he’d be awake yet,” she murmured, so quietly that anyone without super hearing wouldn’t have been able to make it out. Then, louder, she said to Peter, his wide eyes and trembling form, “Mr. Parker, I’m Doctor Boudreaux, I’ve been assigned your case. Do you know where you are?”

Peter hesitated, then shook his head. She continued, “You are in the Intensive Care Unit of the Queens Hospital. You sustained serious injuries yesterday morning in what seemed to be a beating, although you had many other problems that seemed to have happened weeks prior. I cannot explain anything else without an adult present, but we’ve contacted a social worker who is on his way now. Do you have any questions?”

Peter blinked. He didn’t understand a word of what she said. He knew what all of the words meant separately, but strung together none of them made sense. She must have taken his silence as a yes, because she said, “I’ll send in a nurse to take your vitals,” and quickly left the room.

Peter stared at the wall in front of him, his brow furrowed. He still felt a massive weight on his chest, but managed to gather enough air to ask, “Can I see May now?”

MJ and Flash exchanged a worried glance. “Peter, we don’t know where she is.”

”But—but I have to see her! She’s been alone for almost two days, and I’ve been here in the hospital without her and...” he trailed off. “Oh, God,” he whispered quietly as his eyes widened in horror.

”What?” MJ asked tentatively, and the world broke.

Peter’s chest began to heave against nothing, his only breaths coming out as sobs as his tears flowed again at full force. “I’m—I’m in the hospital, she’s going to kill me, I said—we agreed I’d stop spending her money, the bill is going to be so high, I—“ the beeping around him got quicker, louder, and dimly he heard Flash call for a nurse. “The bill, she’s going to kill me, I need to go, I can’t be here, I need to go—“ 

He tried to stand, but his legs felt like lead and he collapsed to the ground, still rambling with all the air his screaming lungs would give him. “And I wasn’t supposed to eat or be in a bed, I’ve broken too many rules—it’s too many, she’s going to kill me—she’s going to, she will, I know it—help me get out of here!” He shouted suddenly, and MJ jumped back as a team of people in scrubs hurried in.

”What are you doing? I’ve got to go, I need to get home, I can’t be here! I’m—“

Hands were grabbing him, so many hands, and he just knew a punch was coming soon. He tried to throw them off, but he was so weak that he could do nothing more than lift his hands an inch or two.

”Shes going to kill me, please, please!”

Fingers pinched his neck and he felt a sharp prick. “No, no, no,” he whispered as the black that he had fought so hard to be rid of began to invade the edges of his vision again. ”You’ve got to let me out, I’ve got to go, I’ve got to...”

”I’ve..I’ve got to...”

”I’ve..”

He felt himself be lifted back into the bed. “That’s it,” said a woman’s soothing voice as the pain flooding his body began to wash away. “Just relax.”

And no matter how hard he fought, he was no match for the temptations of the warm waters lapping at the edges of his mind. He let them wash over him, and all thoughts of May disappeared. He was weightless, he was drifting, he was numb.