Not So Friendly Anymore

Chapter 17: Healing, Comforting, and Confessing

Peter stood over what was left of Osborn, his breath shuddering with the weight of everything he'd done. The adrenaline that had fueled him in those final moments drained away, leaving only a hollow sense of satisfaction mixed with a creeping horror. Osborn was dead, truly gone. And for the briefest moment, Peter allowed himself to feel relief.

But then, the pain began to surge, brutal and all-consuming, ripping him from the quiet of his victory. He looked down, finally aware of the crimson soaking through his torn suit, the deep wounds that sliced across his body. The room spun, colors blurring together as the symbiote tried to heal him, struggling against the extent of his injuries.

Peter's knees buckled, and the world tilted sideways. He felt himself hitting the cold floor, vision dimming, the sounds around him fading to silence as everything went dark.

Minutes later, the hum of engines broke the silence as a jet craft descended onto the rooftop. The Wild Pack, led by Silver Sable, disembarked swiftly, their mission clear. Sable's arm was wrapped in a cast, her injury freshly tended to but leaving her in obvious pain. Yet she moved with purpose, her eyes never leaving Peter's prone form.

"Get him stabilized," she commanded, ignoring her own discomfort as one of her team members helped her down from the craft. They carefully lifted Peter onto a stretcher, the team's movements precise as they worked to stop the bleeding and assess his injuries. Sable winced as her arm throbbed, but her focus never wavered. Her good hand rested on Peter's shoulder as they carried him back to the jet, her eyes hard with resolve.

Once onboard, they directed the craft toward one of her safe houses, a place she knew he would consider safe. As they arrived, medics and personnel rushed forward, and Sable moved aside to let them work. The Wild Pack carefully removed Peter from the jet, and she took a moment to breathe, her casted arm a reminder of the fight they'd survived.

Days blurred together as Peter lingered between life and death, his recovery slow and fraught. Sable checked in often, watching him through the glass as he lay unconscious, a shadow of the man he had been. She kept her feelings locked away, appearing stoic and focused, but there was an unmistakable tightness in her expression.

Finally, after days that seemed to stretch on endlessly, Peter's eyes fluttered open.

---

As Peter's eyes fluttered open, the sterile light above him softened into focus, illuminating a room that felt both foreign and secure. He groaned softly, taking in the aches that still lingered throughout his body. His healing factor had worked overtime, but the injuries were extensive, and he was still weak. The faint sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he looked up to see Sable standing at the door, her casted arm held carefully against her side.

"You're awake," she murmured, a mixture of relief and guarded emotion in her eyes as she stepped closer.

Peter managed a slight nod. "Barely," he replied, voice rough. He held her gaze, the weight of recent events crashing back down on him. "Osborn is gone."

Sable nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "Yes. And you did what needed to be done."

Peter looked down, conflicted. "But did I? The way I killed him... part of me feels like I'm becoming no better than him. I don't know if this is what Uncle Ben would have wanted." He clenched his fists weakly. "I can't help but feel that I'm crossing a line, that I'm losing parts of myself I'll never get back."

Sable moved closer, her hand reaching to rest on his. "Listen to me, Peter. Sometimes, standing up for yourself, making choices that may haunt you, is what you have to do. You did what others couldn't, what had to be done to protect the people you care about. That doesn't make you like him." Her eyes softened, a warmth he rarely saw there. "It makes you human."