Chapter Text
“Recalculating... Recalculating...”
John slapped the GPS in frustration. “Stupid thing.”
His wife Lyla tutted at him, looking up from her book. “Hitting is never the solution,” she said, mimicking the tone they take with their children.
He rolled his eyes affectionately and pulled the car to the side of the road. “Can you figure that out? I need to take a leak.”
Lyla nodded, grabbing a spare fast food napkin to use as a bookmark. She looked out into the pitch black and shivered. “Be careful in the dark.”
They were on a long stretch of forest road and had pulled over next to a large ravine. John did his business and was about to make his way back to the driver’s seat when he heard music—coming from the forest .
“That’s odd,” he muttered. He tapped on his wife’s window and motioned for her to roll it down. “Are you playing music?”
She frowned. “No, why?”
He hesitated. “Do you hear that?”
She leaned out of the window and her eyes widened.
“Get the flashlight in the glovebox,” he said. He glanced into the dark forest, then added, “and the gun.”
She opened the glovebox, handing her husband the flashlight. He took it and held his hand out for the gun. His wife let out a short bark of laughter.
“John honey, I know we served together but you’re a bodyguard and I’m an active government agent. Plus I’m a way better shot than you. I’m taking the gun.”
John rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “We need two car guns.”
Lyla quickly loaded the gun and got out of the car. She motioned for John to stay behind her and they walked slowly along the edge of the ravine, following the sound of the music.
“ Yeah I got boy problems, that’s the human in me ...”
The flashlight reflected on something red and John cursed. It was the taillight of a car, crashed into the ravine.
Lyla turned to her husband. “Trade me-” she handed him the gun and took the flashlight- “go back to the car, and call 911. I’m going to go see if I can talk to the driver. And bring me the first aid kit in the trunk!” She called as John ran back to the car.
Lyla wasted no time. She began to make her way down the ravine, sliding until she could balance on a tree next to the car.
The driver’s side window was broken, and Lyla took in a sharp breath as she looked at the driver. Although it was hard to tell due to a number of cuts and bruises and how swollen his face was, she guessed he couldn’t have been more than 25. His arms dangled uselessly and Lyla guessed at least the left one was broken.
His arms twitched in a deliberate manner and a whimper escaped his swollen lips. Lyla started- she didn’t realize he was conscious.
“Sir? Can you hear me? My name is Lyla Michaels. You’ve been in an accident but help is on the way. You’re going to be okay, okay?” She paused. “Can you hear me?”
He lifted his head ever so slightly and grunted, opening his blackened eyes as best he could.
It wasn’t much, but relief flooded through her. “Oh, thank the Lord,” she said. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
This time he didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes rolled back and his head drooped as he lost consciousness.
Lyla cursed and reached to take his pulse. She had never been so relieved to feel someone’s blood pumping.
So, this is how he died, Peter thought foggily. After years as Spider-Man, he finally met his demise: a car accident. At least the radio still worked, somehow. So he could leave this mortal plane listening to Lizzo’s Truth Hurts . Yay. If only he didn’t have this raging headache.
Brief bouts in and out of consciousness told him that hours had passed since he crashed, and now it was dark. Any attempts to get out resulted in excruciating pain everywhere and he’d given up trying a long time ago.
He could feel how cut and bruised his face was and found it odd it hadn’t healed yet. Usually, bruises and minor cuts healed quickly, in a matter of a few hours.
“ Bling bling, then I solve ‘em, that’s the goddess in me ,” Lizzo sang.
Peter must’ve been hallucinating because suddenly, there was a bright light shining into the car. Or maybe, maybe, he was finally dying.
While he was deciding whether or not to go to the light- although he wasn’t sure how to do that because he still couldn’t move- something appeared at his window.
No, not something, someone. A woman. He figured it would probably be polite to roll down the window. But he couldn’t. It hurt too bad. Then the woman started talking and he realized the window was broken so there was no need to roll it down. Good. He didn’t want to move.
“...can you hear me?” The woman was saying.
All Peter could manage was a grunt. He could already feel his consciousness slipping. Hoping this wouldn’t be the time he didn’t wake up, he let himself go.
To his immense relief, Peter did wake up again.
“He’s conscious,” someone said, and a light got shined in his eye. “Possible concussion. Sir, can you hear me?”
“Yes. Shh,” Peter said weakly.
His eyes were adjusted enough now to see the paramedic smiling. “Can you tell me your name, sir?”
“Peter Parker,” he said hoarsely, then remembered his manners. “Nice to meet you. Was your name?”
The paramedic laughed this time. “I’m Howard Han,” he said. “Nice to meet you too.”
“We just call him Chimney,” the other paramedic said.
She seemed to be working on his right leg, but- that's weird. He couldn’t feel it.
“And that is my partner, Henrietta Wilson. We just call her Hen.” The paramedic called Chimney said, giving his partner a look.
“Chimney? Tha’s a weird name,” Peter said, his words slurring.
“It’s a long story,” Chimney and Hen said in unison, as if they’d had this conversation before.
Peter smiled at them. They were either the best of friends or secretly in love, he thought.
The two laughed and Peter realized he’d said it out loud.
“Well, it’s true,” Peter defended. “Chimney and Hen- ha! Chimney and the chicken. You two probably make life for your coworkers a delight because you’re best friends and super fun to be around.” They exchanged a grin before Peter continued, “or! You make life a living hell because you are secretly madly in love and won’t admit it.”
Hen chuckled. “Sure, I love Chim, but I’m not in love with him,” she said.
Chimney grinned. “Yeah, she’s-”
“Married to a woman,” Peter sighed.
The paramedic pair exchanged a look of surprise.
“I should’ve seen it sooner,” Peter said with mock disappointment. “Usually I would have, but I’m a bit off my game today, you’ll have to-”
He coughed, sending a wave of pain through his body. Broken ribs , he realized with a wince. “As I was saying, you’ll have-” he coughed again.
“Peter? Take deep breaths for me, okay?” Chimney instructed him. “Deep-”
The last thing Peter remembered before passing out was coughing a spurt of blood in Chimney’s face.
"Circulation was cut off from his leg for hours, Dr. Lim.”
Dr. Lim kept her eyes trained on the leg, avoiding Dr. Andrews’ face. “I know, but maybe I can-”
“There’s nothing you can do, Audrey. It's too far gone.”
This time, she met the senior surgeon’s eyes. He held eye contact for a couple seconds before she looked away, but she had accepted the truth.
She looked at the young man unconscious in the hospital bed, unaware of the discussion they were having about him.
Dr. Andrews gave her a nod, and she nodded back, strengthening her resolve.
“Okay,” she said firmly. “Prepare an O.R. and prep him for amputation.”
I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do...
The surgeon’s words echoed in Peter’s mind. One moment he was joking around with two paramedics in an ambulance. The next he had woken up and been told he’d undergone a surgery to remove his right leg.
Nothing we could do...
Nothing they could do, Peter thought as he stared at the empty space where his leg used to be. Zip, zilch, nada. Nothing.
A grin spread across Peter’s face as a realization came to mind. There was nothing they could do.
But there was something he could do.