Work Text:
Failed Rescue Attempt
“Smoke is turning black, lads, head out,” Peter heard the captain of the fire department say into his radio as he observed the scene from the building across the road, thankfully downwind.
There was a crackle of electricity, “Sir, we still have three floors to clear,” a man said from the other side.
“Negative, you need to get out of there now.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat, he understood why the captain was ordering his men to vacate the building, he’d seen enough fires in his time as Spider-Man to know that the chances of anyone making it out of a burning building - including firemen - after a certain length of time was low. Still, though, the knowledge that there could still be people in there, alive, was more than he could bear.
Don’t do anything reckless, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his Aunt whispered in his head.
He bounced on his tiptoes for a second, staring at the flames that were licking at the outside of the building through the windows, there was nothing more he could do. There was no proof anyone else was in there and he could see the soot covered team making their way out the building, stripping their kit off as soon as they were safe.
It was over, there was nothing he could do, so instead of watching the building burn, he decided his attention was probably better aimed elsewhere.
He was just about to shoot a web so that he could leave the scene when he heard it.
“Help please,” a tiny hoarse voice called out, too quietly for any of the firefighters to hear, but deafening to Peter’s ears.
There was someone alive in there.
He didn't pause to consider what may happen to himself, instead, he made his way towards the inferno rather than away from it as he’d originally intended.
“SPIDER-MAN! NO!”
He ignored the order from the fire chief, the man wasn't his boss after all, he didn't need to obey.
Smoke filled the air making it difficult for Peter to see where he was going despite his enhanced senses and the features of his high-tech mask, he really needed to speak to Mr. Stark about adding some sort of filter into the mask too, not only would it prevent him from inhaling so much smoke, but it might be useful in the future if any bad guys decided to use aerosol poisons.
“Hey!” Peter shouted over the crackling flames and threatening creaking of burning wood, “Spider-Man here! Where are you?”
There was no response and Peter was forced to urge himself on, further into the burning building, he was sure that Mr. Stark was going to be furious with him if he knew what he was getting himself into.
“Hello? Is anyone-” Peter broke off as he started coughing unrelentingly, the smoke felt like it was pouring through his mask and he was struggling to breathe in properly.
“Your blood oxygen level is decreasing, I recommend getting out,” Karen informed him.
“Can’t,” Peter choked out, “still someone in here.”
“If you don't start to head towards the exit, I’ll be forced to commence the ‘Stuck in a Web’ protocol,” Karen informed him.
“The- what?”
“It’s a protocol designed to alert Mr. Stark when you’re in a dangerous situation that may render you unconscious or otherwise unable to escape,” Karen said.
“No,” Peter said, before breaking out into another fit of coughing, “don't.”
“Sending alert to Mr. Stark.”
“Karen! No!” Peter shouted as he slowly continued making his way further into the building, “I need to… get them… out.”
“Advice on the internet suggests that you should stay lower to the ground, you’ll find it marginally easier to breathe that way,” Karen advised.
Despite his irritation that she had contacted Mr. Stark to essentially come and get him, he listened to her advice, because breathing was becoming more and more difficult. He dropped to his hands and knees and began to crawl through the building, staying as low as he could without just lying face down.
“Anyone?” he shouted out, he knew there were more people in the building, why weren't they responding?
Was it just that they couldn't hear him shouting out? Or had something more sinister happened? He tried his best to listen for the heartbeats that he knew should be near to him but all he could hear was roaring flames - no one ever talked about how loud fires were. Sure, they mentioned the heat, the terror, the smoke, but never the noise.
“Karen? Scan?”
“I’m sorry Peter but a thermal scan would be inefficient in this case as everything would be hot.”
“Damn it,” Peter cursed, he wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears on his face, but he was beginning to grow afraid that not only had he failed at saving the people in the building, but he himself was also going to meet his demise in the hellscape he’d willingly swung into.
“Please find an exit,” Karen said, “I estimate you have around five minutes until you lose consciousness. If you weren't an enhanced being, you would probably already have done so.”
Her words sent a chill up his spine, it was fairly safe to assume that the others in the building were not enhanced beings, which meant they had almost certainly lost consciousness since they’d been in the fire much longer than Peter had. No wonder he couldn't get a response.
“Karen?” He choked out, letting himself slump to the ground, “help.”
He could feel darkness threatening the edges of his vision as he lay there, losing track of time, he didn't have the energy or the ability to even try and get himself to an exit, the firemen were right - he shouldn't have gone in the building, he’d seriously screwed up and thanks to himself he was going to devastate May by dying in a fire that he should have never entered.
He coughed weakly against the floor, wondering whether he was already burning as the heat felt insufferable, it was everywhere and if the smoke wasn't already harming him then the flames surely would be.
“PETER!”
He blinked tiredly as he heard his name being screamed, it was strange, it didn't sound like Karen. In fact, it didn't sound like a person at all, it was a familiar, metallic voice…the kind that came from being inside the Iron Man suit. Was it Mr. Stark? Had he made it to Peter in time? Suddenly the protocols that felt overprotective and borderline helicopter parenting felt like a lifeline.
“Peter, oh my God, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark muttered as he knelt down next to Peter’s limp form and began lifting him from the ground, “F.R.I. run diagnostics.”
Peter couldn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s response, instead, he was basking in the chill of being held against the cool metal of the suit. Mr. Stark held him gently as he shot out of the burning building and landed by the rescue services. Peter’s eyes were only open a slight crack as he stared listlessly at the people who were rushing towards him.
“Does he have a pulse?” someone asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Stark choked out as he laid Peter down on one of the gurneys.
Peter wanted to thank Mr. Stark for saving his life and he wanted to tell him not to worry, he was fine, he would always be fine, but he couldn't gather enough energy to cough, never mind actually producing words.
“Can we give him oxygen?” a paramedic asked, already holding a high flow mask attached to a cylinder of oxygen.
“Yeah, let me just pull up his mask,” there was a whirring noise as Mr. Stark spoke and the suit retracted around his form to allow him to step out onto the asphalt.
A small thrill of adrenaline shot through Peter as he struggled weakly against the hands that were pulling at the fabric by his neck, “no,” he whispered hoarsely followed by a hacking cough.
“It’s alright, Underoos, it’s just me,” Peter instantly relaxed, Mr. Stark wouldn't reveal his identity in front of all these people, “I’m just taking it over your nose so there’s nothing between you and this oxygen, alright Kiddo?”
“Mhm,” Peter hummed as he let Mr. Stark fiddle with his mask before yet another one was strapped to his face.
“We need to take him to the hospital,” someone said.
“Only if you take him to this one,” there was a pause and Peter tiredly watched as Mr. Stark showed the paramedic something on his phone. They nodded in agreement, “alright, Kid, you rest up, you’re safe,”
Darkness finally won and Peter fell into a deep sleep, comforted by the safety that being around Mr. Stark brought him.
~~
Peter woke up to an annoying beeping sound and something tickling his nose. With a soft grumble that brought about a cough, he reached up and rubbed at his nose with the side of his hand. Something thin and plastic feeling caught at his fingers and he grasped it and pulled - whatever it was had been hooked around his ears also and took a bit of effort to finally remove from his face.
Blearily he blinked and forced himself to sit up, his chest felt heavy and full of something, it was a strange feeling and all he wanted to do was cough and cough until he felt lighter.
His movement in the bed apparently disrupted the man who was sitting in an armchair, pulled up beside Peter’s bed and hunched over - looking very uncomfortable - against his legs, sleeping.
“Pete?” Mr. Stark looked terrible, his hair was a mess, he had bags under his eyes and tiredness seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders, “how are you feeling, Kiddo?”
“Did anyone get them out?” Peter asked, his voice was raspy and made his throat ache.
“Get who- oh ,” Mr. Stark paused and gave Peter an almost pitying look, he didn't need to say anything further.
“I failed,” Peter mumbled, tears falling down his cheeks without his permission.
Mr. Stark looked panicked by the sudden appearance of them and flapped his hands around Peter for a moment before finally resting one on his shoulder, “look, Kiddo, you tried your damn best in there, you nearly died yourself.”
“But I shouldn't have given in so easily,” Peter argued.
“Peter, I was almost too late to save you,” Mr. Stark said, “if it hadn't been for Karen, you would have also died in that building, you did your best but no one is a match for smoke inhalation.”
There was nothing Peter could say in response to that, he was too consumed by his sorrow. He had failed - he was Spider-Man, he was the one who swung around Queens and helped to save those in need. He was supposed to save those people who had still been trapped in that burning building.
“I failed them,” he whispered.
“Oh, Pete,” Mr. Stark murmured, before seemingly making a decision, “right, scoot over.”
“What? Why?” Peter asked, although as he did so he also did what Mr. Stark had requested.
The older man clambered ungracefully onto the bed beside Peter and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.
“This was not your fault,” he said, leaving no room for argument, “I know you won't believe me yet, but I’m going to tell you that every damn day until it sinks in. Sometimes, despite our best efforts we can’t save everyone, we can try our damnedest but now and then that just won't be enough.
“So we do what we do to keep on keeping on, and we carry those people with us for a long time but eventually the self loathing and regret turns into an inspiration to work harder and be better. Not that you really need that, you're already the best of us all, Kiddo. But you’ll be alright, eventually, and in the meantime, you have family to help get you through this.”
Peter sniffled and laid his head against Mr. Stark’s chest, “thanks, Tony.”