Chapter Text
Penny thinks her whole life is a cosmic fuck-up. However, thinking so would imply that the universe actually gave a shit about her meagre existence, and that’s kind of egoistical, so she likes to think (read: delude herself into thinking) that maybe the good is just yet to come. Her existence has just been one mess after the other, and she’s been clinging onto the fraying threads of hope ever since she could remember.
She remembers her mother smiling down at her, satiating her impatient self with a good things come to those who wait.
Penny has been waiting for a long time now.
She usually prefers not to contemplate the purpose of her existence before lunch, because in the past few days thinking has gotten hard and hungry has taken over, and she thinks she might just eat herself like a snake, if only for sustenance. The human liver can grow back right? Anyway, that’s irrelevant, the point is that she’d much rather frown upon her life after she’s stuffed her face with some shitty food, but she’s dying so she’ll allow herself some leniency.
Oh, right. She’s dying. Yes, that is also a thing that is currently happening.
Penny has rules. She’s always had rules, especially after. She doesn’t know what to call it now if she’s going to be honest. After the rape? After Skip? Her whole life has been divided into befores and afters. Before the plane crash, after Uncle Ben’s shooting, before Spiderman, after Aunt May’s death. She neatly segments her life into losses and deaths. Before Skip was naivety, after Skip was anger, and she’s hated him ever since. Until.
That’s the purpose of Spiderman, isn’t it? Not just to help victims and the common people, but to rehabilitate and help the criminals, to prove that everybody is deserving of a second chance. People should be allowed the chance to change.
Her brain feels woozy. Something isn’t right, but then again, nothing ever is. Her life comprises of one big wrong and it’s taken her an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it’s her that’s wrong. There’s no such bullshit as Parker Luck, this is Penny Luck, her own wretched, cursed existence.
Her brain jumps from one topic to another like she’s high (she’s never been high before. She’d like to try drugs and alcohol and sex and love and all the things that make life worth living once, at least, before she’s snuffed out), like it’s on a trampoline. She can’t follow her own train of thought. She considers killing herself, if only to escape from the pain, and immediately shifts her attention to whether she left her chemistry book in MJ’s bag.
There was a purpose to this. She was trying to prove a point. Ah, yes, rules. Penny has rules. She’s set them in place to make sure she doesn’t end up doing some stupid bullshit, and although she’s simply a plethora of disasters, they prevent her from going too far. They are as follows:
- If you seriously need help, ask for it. Spiderman isn’t use to anyone dead or injured.
- Casualties happen, she can’t risk her life for everyone all the time. One saved today, a hundred killed tomorrow if she dies.
- Swallow your pride and beg if you have to, just make it out alive
- Do not go to the Bad Place. The Bad Place refers to her state of mind when it’s so excruciatingly messed up that she’s, in all seriousness, compiling a pros-and-cons list of her existence and whether it’d be more beneficial for her to just kick the bucket.
A lot of her rules stem from just being useful to people, which is ironic because she’s absolutely useless. Anyway, the point is that these rules are there for a reason, and she’s actively breaking each and every one of them. And so that brings her to her main point: she deserves this.
There is more blood than grass around her, and she doesn’t even know where she is. She might be in Georgia. Maybe in Norway. Maybe she’s in someone’s backyard. She’s managed to crawl under some loose paneling and curled herself up under the wooden steps that lead to the verandah of someone’s house. If someone were to ask her what hurts, she’d just sob instead. Better question, what doesn’t hurt?
Her toes. Her toes don’t hurt. That’s all she can come up with right now.
Her vision blacks out and blurs around the edges and she wonders if she’s going to die, if this is it. Then she loses consciousness.
Penny tried to kill herself once. It turned out to be a pretty good experience in the end, because instead of throwing herself dramatically off a cliff, she ended up by a waterfall. There is a certain freedom in jumping, something she cannot encompass in mere words. There is the falling, where your body and your soul are both blessedly quiet, and the fear that’s always prevalent is overshadowed by the thrill of it. You fall, and you feel like you could fall forever. And then you hit the water. It’s sharp and cold and cuts jagged lines into your body, and you inhale water and you’re thrashing, trying desperately hard to just survive.
Penny has been falling for the past few months. The fall is over now.
When she comes to, it’s with a sharp pain in her everywhere and under the scrutiny of an asshole billionaire, and beloved Dr. Cho. These are not things she registers first. Instead, she registers the fact that she’s very much alive, and immediately mutters a quiet “goddammit” under her breath. It would be funnier if it wasn’t so horrifying.
Dr. Cho tells her something about how she’s going to be in pain for a bit, lists off her injuries with a disapproving frown, and then turns sharply to glare at her. “You will maintain appropriate etiquette with my patient, Stark, or so God help me,”
Apparently, they’ve had a discussion. Penny applies her genius brain to the situation at hand and deduces that the discussion did not, in fact, go well.
The minute she leaves, Penny speaks, voice hoarse and cracking, “Did she beat your ass?”
Mr. Stark gets her a glass of water, silently, before slowly nodding. “I deserved it, though,” he takes in a deep breath, as though trying to steel himself, before plowing onwards, “Penny, what you did today was extremely irresponsible. You have the emergency call button, you’re well aware that criminals that have no issue tearing someone apart just for laughs are not within Spiderman’s parameters, and even if you had engaged, you should’ve called,”
Penny thinks that, if she weren’t so exhausted, she’d punch him in the face.
“I expected much better behavior from you, especially after the ferry incident, I thought you were mature enough to learn from your mistakes, kid, but clearly you’re not. You’re a danger to yourself, do you realize that?”
Penny is in the wrong here and she 100% knows this. Penny defends herself anyway.
“And?” she’s so tired. Exhaustion has been sneaking up on her for the past few days and has now effectively wrapped its winding arms around her, crushing her ribcage and squeezing the breath out her lungs.
She wants to cry.
She’s just so tired.
“Pardon?”
“You said all of that, what’s the point you’re trying to make?”
Mr. Stark’s face does an interesting set of contortions in the next few seconds, before settling on a shade of red and looking absolutely livid.
“What I’m saying is that you’re irresponsible and immature and should’ve approached authority-”
“How many times did I call you in the past month?” Exhaustion is gone and cold rage has taken its place.
“If you would’ve sent a single emergency alert, I would’ve come, don’t even act like it,” he refutes.
“I didn’t want you to come,” she’s barreling on with this now, she’s going to destroy everything she’s worked so hard to build, and it’s going to feel good because this is how it feels every single time. “I didn’t want your help, I’d rather bleed to death. What part of the way you acted said approachable adult, exactly? Why the fuck would I ask you for help when all I am to you is a burden and a liability, and, worst of all, a fifteen year old whose death would be on your conscious?”
“That’s not what I said-”
“That’s what it sounded like.” She can hear Dr. Cho coming back in, probably to diffuse the situation and maybe smack Mr. Stark around a little. Maybe she’ll put Penny under. She wishes she would.
“Penny, I didn’t mean to-”
“Do you want me gone?” The words are blunt and terrible and honest. She’s been in foster homes, they get tired of her after some point, and then they want her gone. Adults are only okay with you as long as you conform to their belief of who you are. The minute you dare to so much as differ? You’re done with. She can’t be expected to lie forever.
“What?” at least he has the decency to sound horrified. “No, Penny, I would never-”
“Then stop acting like it and grow up,” the words feel ridiculously good to say, especially with Helen Cho’s mildly pleased expression and Stark’s own gob smacked one.
“Out, you’re distressing the patient. Have your little catfight later,” Dr. Cho says, effectively shooing Mr. Stark out of the room. Penny catches his eye as he leaves and wonders if she messed everything up again.