The Scattered Stories of Spider-Son and Iron Dad

The Vulture Incident - Finding Peter

Peter sat at the top of the Cyclone, high above the mess on the beach, watching from a distance as Happy oversaw the gathering and movement of the debris from the plane crash. The crates were slowly gathered towards the boardwalk, fires were put out, and Happy stood in the sand watching it all as he called out orders to the people around him. All in all, it was a streamlined process.

Mr. Toomes had been picked up by the police as soon as Happy arrived; he was cut out of the webbing, and immediately cuffed. Peter knew that his technology would be tagged as evidence, and had pulled it apart. He had destroyed it as much as he was able, so that no one else would be able to use it if it got stolen.

The young hero knew that he had been sitting there for far too long. He had been still, trying to get his breathing to a normal rhythm again for a while. Now, though, he was just trying to find the energy to climb back down. Peter knew he was hurt. He knew he was tired. He had just been in a plane crash, had a building dropped on him: he felt he had the right to rest for a few minutes.

But a few minutes had passed a while ago. The mess on the beach was looking less disastrous, and Happy had been there for a long time. How long had it been? Peter had opened his eyes at least once with his head hanging down, and he was pretty sure he sort of passed out at least once.

Peter might have been young--had definitely made mistakes--but he was not stupid. He knew he needed help. As much as his usual healing ability could handle, this... All... felt like a little too much.

But who was he supposed to call in a situation like this?

His phone was...somewhere.

Happy was here, but Ned had said he hung up on him earlier and he hadn't been super receptive to any of Peter's other calls.

Mr. Stark was...busy. And probably still mad about the incident involving the Staten island ferry. He was the one that had taken his suit, after all. Even if Peter had a way to call him, wouldn't this just prove to him that Peter wasn't as capable as the other super hero's? Would he be even more mad?

Peter startled a bit, throwing a hand out to a bar behind him as he felt himself slipping, having nodded off... Again? Maybe? He needed help. He just couldn't ask for it.

Merlin.

Where his addled brain had pulled that thought, he didn't know. And he didn't even know if it would work. What would he do? Project feelings of helplessness into the space around him, and hope Merlin picked up on the disturbance in the force? As tired as he was Peter was pretty sure that wasn't going to work.

But, honestly, he didn't have any other plans.

So he concentrated on everything that hurt--his ribs, and his head, and his lungs, and his back--and thought about what it would look like if you projected that out, visualized the waves like ripples on a pond. He didn't know how long he sat there, until he felt something push back. As though those waves had met something and rippled back. Whatever it he had found was mercifully cool and calming. It was light and soft, and Peter sighed as it washed over him.

He couldn't remember closing his eyes, but when a hand was delicately laid on his shoulder, he opened them to see Merlin in front of him. This was a nice dream.

"It's not a dream, Peter. Please, can you keep your eyes open for me." Merlin's voice was feather soft and very close. Peter complied; his vision was blurry but his eyes remained open.

"Help." The single word escaped him on the tail end of a shuddering breath.

"I will. I promise that you are going to be okay. I need you to stand with me, and when I let go of you, you can go to sleep. Does that sound good?"

Merlin seemed very far away. Peter couldn't really concentrate on his face, or anything at the moment. He wanted to look the man in the eye and agree; he was Spider-Man. He should be able to communicate with a teammate, right. But he was barely able to push himself up, clinging to the metal around him, and balance on the beam at his feet. In fact, he couldn't balance, and almost immediately began to pitch forward once his legs were under him.

Luckily, Merlin was within arms reach, and caught him before he could fall onto the track of the roller coaster below them. He felt--more than heard--Merlin gasp as he took most of the teenagers weight, and promptly began shaking. Peter was more than a little worried over his mentor. Was he hurt, too? Had he been hurt in the crash? or maybe the explosion afterward? He couldn't quite remember how Merlin was involved with the fight against the vulture, but If Merlin needed help then Peter was going to get him help.

As soon as Peter could feel his feet again, he was going to get right on that.

Merlin gasped in another breath, and breathed out stutteringly, whispering as he did.

"Peter, could you... make yourself... stick to me? I'm not going... going to let go...but I need to know... you're going to stay with me... can you... can you do that?" Peter nodded as Merlin finished, and concentrated on sticking to the man holding him up. He felt the weight drag Merlin's clothes a bit as he moved but didn't release the cloth below him.

"Good, good," Merlin breathed. He adjusted his grip, and stood a little straighter, before saying, "can you... take a really...really deep breath for me Peter? Good, and close your eyes." Peter didn't want to listen, barely pulling in enough air as it was and certain that closing his eyes was a bad thing, but he couldn't really remember why at the moment. So he sucked in another breath, this one deeper than the last. And he closed his eyes; it was more that he stopped fighting the spontaneous gravitational pull that had sprung into existence around his face, but his eyes were closed as his head fell forward to rest on Merlin's shoulder.

"Good man."

Peter heard the words and then heard nothing. He felt as though the vulture was holding his chest in the vice again, and for a moment Peter knew that he couldn't breath. He was floating and falling. He felt every bruise from the crash. Cold all over. Numb all over.

And then it was over, almost as soon as it began. He felt the beam underneath them had changed to something else; Something larger and significantly more sturdy, if the lack of soft swaying was any indication. Or maybe Peter was the one swaying, because he could still sort of feel that.

"FRIDAY, who is closest to me? Where is everybody?"

The question felt very far away, even though Peter could feel Merlin breathing onto his shoulder, and heard the subtle hiss as he spoke as though through his teeth. Peter was drawn away as Merlin spoke. Wherever they were was much brighter than the top of the roller coaster, and it was probably inside, Peter thought, since there was a lot more echoing and a lot less wind.

"Captain Rogers is down the hall, in the kitchen. Romanoff and Wilson are both in the Gym, and Boss is in the Lab, downstairs. All other present avengers are asleep."

Peter was pretty sure the woman speaking had an accent and was all around them. But thinking was starting to give him a headache and he really wanted to stop.

"Send Steve to me, and page everyone else to the common room."

That was said with authority, even if the voice was shaking. Peter was sure that he needed to help the voice, but wasn't quite able to remember why they needed help. Or who they were. Where were they, again? It didn't seem to matter. what did matter, was that time seemed to be weird here. He heard the voice, and then felt the vibrations of footsteps very soon afterward. Was he skipping through time? or were the footsteps much closer than he thought? Stop thinking: headache.

Regardless of his perception of time, his currently way overactive senses were very confident in a heavy person now standing very close to them. He couldn't make out words, but was fairly certain that the sounds nearby were made by people talking. It wondered if the explosion had messed with his hearing? He had only gotten ringing for a bit after the crash, maybe that was happening again.

"Peter, I'm going to count to three and then you are going to let go. Okay?" Peter nodded; This voice was completely clear, floating all around him.

"1... 2... 3..."

Peter thought about unsticking to Merlin, and felt his arms drop. For a brief moment he felt like he was floating.

A hand touched his face and he heard the sounds of someone speaking.

Then he felt nothing.