[hero, the hard way]↣ p. parker | t.s daughter

|four| - edited

It had been three days since my heart malfunctioned. They had doctors coming in every half hour to listen to my heart, check my vitals, and write numbers that were meaningless to me in a chart.

It crossed my mind that I was dying.

Dr. Went and Dr. James decided that they had to amputate. There wasn't an option, or a choice. Either they amputate now or I'm dead next week.

When they came in to tell us I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and cry and tell Peter how unfair it all was, but all I could do was nod. All the chemo, all the suffering, my hair, my strength? I lost everything, for nothing.

The medical team had to bring me down and get scans so they can get margins for my amputation. My dad was busy on the phone making sure I'd be able to get to my room if I was in a wheelchair, and if the school had an elevator for me, who would be able to babysit one legged me which day, all that. He would come back in every twenty minutes or so, kiss my forhead and run a finger down my cheek, and then leave again.

I was waiting for my dad when Peter walked in. The only problem was that it was a Monday, at nine in the morning. Peter should be in advanced calc right now.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was so quiet. I didn't have any energy to talk, or move, or really even breathe at this point. I was dying. The worst part was that Peter knew it too.

"I needed to be here with you today. Give your dad time to run and do his errands before your surgery, stuff like that. And I missed you." He gave me a small smile and sat in the chair next to my bed.

"I missed you too, Peter," I said. My voice cracked and my eyes welled up. Damn it, don't cry. Don't cry, Ari.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?" He latched his hand onto mine.

"I don't know, Peter. I won't be able to run or be an Avenger or get a boyfriend because who would love me if I only had one-"

"If someone doesn't love you because of your prosthetic then that makes them a piece of shit, okay? Not you. It's not on you. You're perfect now and you'll be perfect after your surgery. And I'm happy to beat the shit out of anyone that disagrees," He pressed his lips against the back of my hand. "You're perfect."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I knew there was a very good possibility that I'd die during the surgery but I couldn't bring myself to tell Peter that. But he knew. Of course, he knew.

We sat in silence for a long time. Neither of us could come up with something worthwhile to say. I was probably going to die. What else was there?

After a long period of silence, Dr. Went and Dr. James came to collect me for my scans. They gave Peter special permission to come into the room with me in hopes that he will keep my heart rate down. People gave me the cancer face all the way down to the MRI machine. They gave Peter a heavy jacket to protect his organs before they left us alone.

He stood at the head of my bed, playing with my hair while the machine took it's scans. I was about to ask him, hey, you know whatever happens you'll be okay? No matter what you're gonna be okay? I was about to ask him when the door slammed open and my doctors ran in, rushed, panicked, and shouting orders.

"Prep OR 2 for an emergency above the knee amputation! We need to get her down there now!" Dr. Went was calling the shots. She came up and put the rails up on my bed.

"Let's move!" Now it was Dr. James, trying to rush us along. They menuvered my bed out of the room and into the hallway, moving as fast as they could. Peter ran with them, panic written all over his face.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up. Dr. Went glanced down at me, at Peter, and then back to me. She pushed me down by my shoulders as they ran.

"Your bone is infected, and it's working it's way into your blood stream. We need to get in there before the blood flow to your heart is more compromised then it already is!" Dr. Went was frantic.

"Wait, isn't she too weak for surgery today? Wasn't that why you didn't put the feeding tube in? Didn't you say you wanted her off chemo for a week, give her heart some more time? You said she's compromised!" Peter looked at Dr. James, and she shook her head a little bit.

"Oh," He understood. He realized what I had known all along. There wasn't a chance for me to come out of this alive.

"If I'm a turnip, if I'm brain dead, pull the plug or whatever, okay? Give me like, 30 days or something?"

"Oh, Ari, don't. You're gonna be okay!"

"Tell my dad I love him, please. Tell him that it's not his fault. It's not." I said. Dad would blame himself. He could have forced me to amputate. He'll think he should have.

"Aunt May, too. Tell her I love her. Please." My breathing was getting more labored. I need to calm down. "And Peter?" I said, trying to get his attention. He was looking off into space, but his head snapped down to meet me.

"Yeah, Ari?" He grabbed onto my hand even harder. His voice was shaking as bad as his hands were.

"I love you. This isn't your fault. You did everything right, ok? I love you, so fucking much. You're everything. You're the world. I love you so much. Don't let this destroy you. Please. I love you, I love you," A tear dropped off of my chin.

"Ari, you're going to be okay! Please, you're gonna be ok. I can't lose you too... Losing you isn't something I can handle." He was crying now too. Like a kid, which he kind of really was. He was 15. Then again, so was I.

"Shh, Peter, you're gonna be okay. This isn't your fault. You did everything right, okay? I love you, it's not your fault," I wanted to lift my hand up, wipe his tears, drag my fingers through his hair the way I always did when he was upset, but I couldn't. I didn't have the strength.

"You need to let go, Peter. We're going to do everything we can." The gurney was stopped. He looked at Dr. Went, and then at me. I gave him a small nod.

"It's okay," I whispered with a small smile. He let go of my hand and we were off again. Before the door shut I saw nurse Yang, the one who we always thought hated him, put a hand on his shoulder. Weather she was comforting him or holding him back, I'll never know. I looked up at the ceiling while we rushed to the operating room.

They pushed me into the room and gently lifted me off my bed and onto an operating table. They put a few loose straps over my chest and began prepping my leg. Dr .Went came in.

"You're going to be ok, Ari. I promise." I knew that was a lie but I gave her a small smile anyways. The anesthesiologist came up into my feild of view.

"This is going to make you very drowsy. Count back from ten, please," He sounded so kind, so soft.

"Ten, nine, eight...seven..six..." And that was it. Before I went out compleatly, Dr. Went came in.

"I really don't want to be the one who kills Tony Stark's daughter."