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Peter was going to die here. He had come to that conclusion a few hours ago when he was still lucid, the building settling around him while he dangled from a steel beam. The vibranium cuffs that were locked around his wrists wouldn’t budge. And it didn’t matter how much the young vigilante pulled, he still couldn't free himself. He was stuck, hanging by his arms, in a construction site that was crumbling around him. His feet swung in the open air and Peter had no clue if he was a few inches from the ground, or a few yards.
Someone will find me. Peter thought. Someone has to know I’m missing.
***
It had been Fisk who had taken him. Or, his men. They had picked him off the street after Spider-Man had swung in to stop a small credit union from being robbed. (Though looking back now, Peter figured that was probably just a trap to lure him out.) He had been knocked out, and when he came to, he had woken up cuffed around a steel beam in what looked to be an unfinished parking garage.
Fisk had been there, giving Peter his villain monologue about how he was going to rid the city of the menace that Spider-Man was. How he was going to return the city to how it should be, and achieve true balance between civilians, criminals, police, and politicians.
The boy remembers rolling his eyes, letting out a wise-crack, and getting ready to spit out another sarcastic reply when suddenly there was a deep rumble that echoed throughout the building. In a flash, the world was tilting sideways and Peter found himself falling with the steel beam he was connected to. He was sure he saw other bodies falling as he fell, but he just seemed to keep going while everything else stopped.
And then Peter stopped.
The movement was harsh and the boy felt something in his shoulders pop and tear as gravity did it’s job. Black spots invaded Peter’s vision and the breath was stolen from his lungs as his body was tossed around like a rag doll. And then everything seemed to fade.
Peter wasn’t sure if he had actually lost consciousness, or if he was just in a different headspace as his body tried to understand what had happened to it. All he knew was that it was dark and the air was thick with dust and the smell of concrete. And then the pain began to bloom in his arms.
A sharp ache shot up the top of his shoulders and through his arms, and all Peter could do was let out a choked scream. He had dealt with a lot of different injuries while being Spider-Man, but this was something completely different. And while Peter screamed, he kicked his legs in the air, suddenly realizing that there was nothing below him. Suddenly a different kind of panic was overcoming the boy, and even though his body was reacting badly, there was a part of Peter’s brain that was telling him to calm down. A panic attack would do nothing to help the situation.
It seemed like a miracle that Peter could even do it, but after a few more screams, the boy found himself calming down. In no time he was silently hanging by his wrists. His arms were behind his back at an awkward angle and he was facing the direction of the floor. But based on how low he was hanging Peter was sure he had tore parts of his shoulder and arm. (And that was the best-case scenario.) They were probably broken.
That had been hours ago.
In that time Peter had taken stock of his situation. He was cuffed to a beam with vibranium cuffs. Fisk had his mask. No one knew where he was, just that he was out on patrol. He was in a collapsed (collapsing?) parking garage, and he wasn’t even sure if it was still stable. And he was hurt.
In the beginning Peter yelled for help, but he was quick to stop when it suddenly hurt to make any noise besides the short pants that were escaping his mouth. Now Peter was hurting all over. His arms and hands were numb. His shoulders screamed in pain and all the boy could do to help his predicament was try and stay as still as possible. The lack of oxygen Peter was getting along with the raging headache didn’t help either. He was suffocating. He was going to die here.
***
At first Peter thought he was hallucinating when he felt the beem shift. The boy’s entire brain felt like mush and he felt like he couldn’t hold a coherent thought. But suddenly he was sliding forward on the beam and in an instant the boy’s knees kissed the ground below him. It was a harsh landing, but the sob that escaped his mouth was one of relief as the pressure was taken off of his shoulders.
I can breathe.
I can breathe.
***
“There’s someone over there!” A voice called out, cutting through the fog that was clouding Peter’s brain. The voice was loud and harsh and Peter physically recoiled as soon as it hit his ears. It was too loud. The sound of footsteps soon joined the voice and Peter let out a low whimper. Unfortunately in his predicament it only came out as a wheeze.
“Oh my God,” The voice said, now closer and suddenly a pair of legs were coming into Peter’s field of vision. The boy’s chin touched his chest, though, and he didn’t have enough strength to see who the legs belonged to. All he could do was let out another wheeze as he shifted slightly, the vibranium cuffs grinding softly on the metal.
“Hey, easy. Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself,” the voice said, and suddenly Peter’s vision blacked out.
***
There were too many colors, too many noises. Peter felt a bright heat not too far away from him and the sound that came with it was deafening. The boy already felt like he was falling apart as a person, and the added stimulus was too much. He could feel his throat constricting in pain and in his haze, Peter wondered if he was screaming.
***
Lights were being shone in his eyes. Things were being strapped to his face, and shadows loomed over Peter as he felt his body being moved. He felt like he was underwater, unable to make out what was around him, not able to hear, and not able to breathe.
Stop. Make it stop.
***
Darkness.
Pain.
Peter was scared, and he could feel the panic building in his chest, but suddenly he felt a hand rest on him. He didn’t know exactly where it was, or who it belonged to. But the energy that radiated off of it made Peter feel safe and secure.
Darkness.
Pain.
But safe.
***
Waking up felt strange. It was like Peter’s body was restarting, one body part at a time. At first the only thing he could register was noise. The soft whirring and beeping of machines while voices talked softly in the background. A hospital. He had to be in a hospital.
“Seven hours. He was there for seven hours and no one knew where he was.”
“I know Tony.”
“We had to get a call from the NY-Fucking-PD telling us they had found our kid in a collapsed parking garage. He almost died. He should be dead, May!”
“You don’t think I know that!?”
“You gotta’ let me install some sort of tracking chip into him. Because we depend on his suit to do its job, only to have the system crash. It happens too often.” There was crying after that, and Peter tried to focus on his other senses to distract himself from what was happening in the room.
The next thing to come online was his sense of touch. He felt like he could feel everything. The uncomfortable sheets that were pulled around him, the dry air that was being pushed into his nose, and the way his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. A dull ache accompanied all of this and Peter did his best to ignore it.
Then, almost involuntarily, Peter’s eyes opened. An instant ache formed at the back of his eyes and the boy let out a choked sob as he tried to will away the pain. The sound immediately cut off the voices in the background and suddenly two familiar faces were in Peter's line of sight.
“Peter?”
“Hey baby. You’re okay, you’re okay,” May soothed as her hand made contact with Peter’s cheek.
“Hurts,” Peter found himself muttering, his voice weak and raw.
“I’m sure it does kiddo’. You’re a little worse for wear,” Tony chimed in, his calloused hand running through Peter’s hair.
“What happened?” Peter found himself asking, though he knew half of the answer.
“I don’t know kid. We were kind of hoping you could fill in the blanks. We just got a call from Officer Davis saying they were investigating a collapsed building when they found Spider-Man chained to a beam.” Tony hummed, doing his best to keep a calm tone as he spoke to the kid.
“Oh yeah,” Peter hummed before another question crossed his mind. “Who’s Officer-” The boy said, drawing out the last word as if he had forgotten what was coming next.
“Officer Davis was the policeman who found you. He made sure you were taken care of and he gave Mr. Stark a call,” May said, knowing what her nephew was trying to ask.
“But my mask,” Peter slurred, his eyes beginning to close involuntarily as he spoke.
“Don’t worry kiddie. I got NDA’s being signed left and right. We got it covered. Now why don’t you rest. God knows you need it kid,” Tony said, his hand still in Peter’s hair.
“Yeah. Okay,” the teenager sighed as he let himself slip back into the darkness, knowing both May and Tony would be there when he woke up.