Chapter Text
Waking up in a hospital should've alarmed Peter Parker Yang far more than it actually did. His profession came with many risks after all, and it wasn't the first time he'd been knocked down hard enough to wake in a medical center. He first registers the steady whir of equipment before the sharp scent of antiseptic stings his nose. It's the wrinkle of his expression that draws the attention of someone at his bedside.
"Mr. Yang?"
An unfamiliar voice, not Arthur which is surprising. If he was in the hospital, Parker was almost certain that Arthur would be sitting by his side until he woke up. Unless...
"Just Parker is fine," He manages to reply, voice rough in a way that causes him to clear his throat. A faint zing of pain lances through his chest and manages to pry open his eyes. Bright white light, white walls and a shadow cast as the man sitting next to him stands. He hears the man call for a nurse as Parker carefully begins a quiet assessment.
He would be in a great deal of pain if not for the morphine drip attached to his elbow. His throat felt as if it was torn raw, only a thin blanket and a hospital gown covering him. With slow and careful motions he leverages himself upright, quickly assisted by who he recognizes to be the local police detective. Arthur and himself had often passed along information to him if needed and he would be the one to call them in if the police needed additional assistance.
"Detective Thomas, to what do I owe this pleasure?" He rasps as the detective finishes adjusting the bed.
"I was hoping you would be able to explain," Thomas replies, expression grim. "But it'll have to wait. I'm stepping out for a coffee, you want one?"
"Mr. Yang shouldn't be drinking coffee at the moment, Detective Thomas," The nurse says curtly as she enters, waving the detective off. "Come back in an hour, Mr. Yang needs a moment to recoup before you start interrogating him."
"Yes Mrs. Maggie," Thomas gives a small salute before giving Parker a distinct look. "One hour."
Parker nods in understanding and leans back against the thin hospital mattress. The nurse begins fretting over the bandages, muttering under her breath about impatient officers of the law before beginning to pepper him with questions on how he was feeling.
"Fine, truly Mrs. Maggie, you have me set with this," Parker gestures to the IV line. It doesn't seem to reassure her any if her grumbling was anything to go by. "How long have I been here if I may ask?"
"Two days so far," Maggie says shortly, unwrapping the last of the bandages and yes, Parker can feel now how badly his throat was aching even through the fuzziness of the morphine. "It could've been worse if you had been deprived of air even a second longer. You have enough head trauma and bruises to make it unpleasant one way or the other."
"Strangled?" Parker says with puzzlement, attempting to glance down. Pain lances through his entire head, a slice straight down his spine that has him gritting his teeth and slowly settling his head back against the pillow.
"You were quite lucky Mr. Yang, with how badly your throat had been crushed I was worried if you'd even be able to speak when you woke." Maggie murmurs, carefully pulling away from the bandages she'd been checking on the side of his head. "The detective here has been waiting for you to wake up. However, you need rest."
Parker takes her veiled offer with a small smile, "I'm sure, however I feel fine to talk to Detective Thomas."
Maggie gives him an appraising look as she steps back, taking the clipboard from the end of his bed to write something down. "The doctor will be in soon, don't overexert yourself."
As soon as Maggie had left Detective Thomas returns, two coffees in hand.
"Nurse Maggie said I shouldn't have coffee," Parker says with humor, cradling the warm cup between his frightfully chilled hands. He takes a sip and sighs at the steady warmth through his chest. He didn't even care that it was a little stale, clearly reheated a few times from the cafeteria line. It was enough to keep him focused on the man in front of him.
"You look like you need it," Thomas replies, sitting heavily in the chair at his bedside and grimacing at the taste of his own coffee. "What do you remember from that night?"
Parker scrapes his fingertip against the cardboard cup, wrestling with uncooperative memories and hoping the texture would help ground him. "Why was I almost killed, you mean?"
"More or less," Thomas shrugs, "I know it can be hard after just waking up - especially with the dosage Mrs. Maggie set you up with. I swear she's just trying to get you back to sleep. Do you want me to tell you what I know?"
"I think that would help yeah," Parker says after coming up blank. What little he can recall at the moment was pain and movement...and a shadow encompassing his vision.
"Alright," Thomas settles back heavily with another sigh. "Around 9pm we responded to a call from a resident about gunshots. They didn’t know where it was coming from so we checked the whole building and thought that you two might’ve known something if you were there at the time. We get to your unlocked office and find no one there. After a sweep we find you in the closet, bruises on your neck and barely breathing. Once you were transported to the hospital we continued to investigate the building. We found the body of the maintenance man Edward in the basement."
"Eddie?" Parker says with surprise, "He usually isn't in that late."
Thomas gives him an appraising look, "Eddie was the one who was shot. In your office's storage space."
"Our..." Parker trails off, a piece of the puzzle finally clicking into place, "Arthur? My partner?"
"Missing," Thomas says grimly, "I was hoping you could give some insight as to where he could be since at the moment he's our primary suspect."
The coffee cup is cooling against his palms, the weight of it helping focus his thoughts. Despite their initial protest they're finally drifting together - watching Arthur unwrap the package that had been dropped off. A book, something neither of them recognized and then...
A voice
A flash of yellow
Arthur's surprised yelp
The smile stretching across his face, wicked and unnatural...
"We were attacked," Parker says through numb lips.
"Attacked? The both of you?" Thomas says, leaning forward, "You know who?"
"No idea." Arthur was always better at smooth talking their way out of a situation, but Parker knew how to spin the truth, "But they tackled me, strangled me and...I think Arthur went after them." Yellow eyes, inhuman as Parker slumped to the ground. Feeling more than seeing Arthur fall down next to him. This situation wasn't one he trusted to tell anyone. Who would believe him? It didn't seem real and he was the one living it.
Arthur wouldn't hurt him, but it wasn't Arthur anymore.
"Do you have a description of the culprit?" Thomas presses, "We've hit dead ends here. They took off in a taxi and got lost in the city. Anything you have will help us."
"I'd never seen them before," Parker says truthfully, "They were...similar build to Arthur I think. They delivered a package, the guise to get inside to us I would guess, we thought they were an independent delivery company - not postal service. I passed out before I could see any more."
"That's unfortunate," Thomas grumbles, leaning back again and taking a hearty swig of his coffee. "Think you could parse things out if you were back in your office?"
"Probably," Parker hedges, "Was Eddie killed in the same way I was attacked?"
"Not quite," Thomas's expression twists in a way that Parker knows meant Eddie didn't get off nearly as lightly. "Eddie had a bit more brutal of an execution - shot and strangled from what we can tell. Coroner is still getting back to us on what actually killed him. From what I'm thinking, Eddie had gotten in the way of things and been where he wasn't supposed to be. You and Arthur may have been the primary targets, but there's too many open ends to determine that at the moment. That's why I'm hoping you have a few more details for us."
"I'll do what I can," Parker promises, although he knows for a fact he wouldn't be able to tell Thomas everything no matter how much he may help. This was something he and Arthur had gotten themselves into and he frankly didn't think it would be a service to anyone to bring them into it.
A knock on the doorframe pulls them from the conversation, a doctor smiling kindly at them.
"Just here to check in on Mr. Yang."
Detective Thomas takes his leave, promising to return when he's discharged while the doctor gives Parker all the details Nurse Maggie had skimmed over. A bruised trachea, moderate concussion, plenty of scrapes from the fight for his life. The few days he'd spent in the hospital so far had done him some good.
"How much longer do you plan on keeping me?" Parker asks once the doctor had finished describing the medication he'd be taking to avoid infection.
"We'd like another two days for observation at least," The doctor replies, a small smile at whatever face Parker makes in response to that. "We need to monitor for infection and make sure that concussion doesn't get any worse. I assure you that healing will get you back on the case faster than anything else."
So Parker waits, albeit impatiently, days later until he receives an all clear. He calls Thomas after he's dressed and shaved, agreeing to meet him at their office so he can start getting to the bottom of this. It already unsettles him that Arthur's got over a week lead on them - not even willing to think about how long he'll be stuck in town with the police portion of the investigation. He has a feeling Arthur is long gone, and there's nothing he can do about it right now without incurring suspicion from the police.
Parker ignores the presence at his shoulder, instead taking in their office with a dissecting glance. This space was his second home, a place he could honestly attribute more time to than his empty apartment. There were clear drag marks on the floor from where he'd been moved, the closet door still open. Detective Thomas clears his throat.
"I told them to leave it, wanted you to have a look before it was cleaned up."
Parker nods his understanding, something tight around his throat as he carefully steps into the room. He knows Thomas stays in the hall from his lack of presence at his back, but it still feels as if there's a weight draped over his shoulder. He follows the markings to the closet. There was a speck of blood on the doorknob.
"Prints?" Parker asks roughly, not turning back as he begins to pick through the closet.
"Nothin' other than you and your partner."
Parker knows that would be the case, but it still makes him uneasy as he deems the closet clear of anything not meant to be there. Arthur's coat was gone, he must've taken it before venturing out into the city.
"Anything of note yet?" Thomas asks after Parker had spent a good minute staring at the empty hanger.
"No," Parker turns around to glance around the room once more, "Lost in thought."
He was never a fan of the frustrating mystery with a job. Arthur always loved picking apart the puzzle, bouncing ideas off until something stuck. Parker was more a fan of the chase, hunting the leads and making them talk when necessary. He had the curiosity for this profession, but he tended to get frustrated when lines crossed. Arthur called it his fatal flaw - his impatience. Parker always replied that he was full of shit.
Parker looks to their desks and pauses, tilting his head.
"Was the piano open when you all got here?"
Thomas glances over, raising an eyebrow at the uncovered ivory keys. "I suppose so, didn't take much note of it."
Parker hums, wandering over to the piano. The keys were as clean as they day it had been brought in - which is to say not terribly. Parker was the one that bought it, second hand as a gift since he could never think of actually affording an upright. Arthur had gone pale at the sight of it, staunchly refusing to acknowledge its existence. In the time it had inhabited their office, Parker can count the number of times it was played on one hand - and each time it was his own awful playing attempting to goad Arthur into showing him how it's done. With respect of course, Parker knows how not to cross a line.
Arthur wanted to pretend that part of his life had never existed. Parker doesn't think he'll ever know the truth of it, but he can recognize a man at the end of his rope. He'd always hoped that Arthur would be open to playing again. Always hoped that Arthur would explain the pained expression he would adopt when looking at the aged instrument in the corner of their office.
"Is that unusual?" Thomas presses, finally stepping into the room to catch his attention.
"A little," Parker agrees, "but not exactly helpful at the moment. Were any items removed from the room?"
He pretends not to notice anything, distinctly aware of all of Arthur's personal items being notably absent. His wallet was missing from its usual spot on the desk, his messenger bag missing from the back of his office chair, his holster absent from its place on the back of their office door.
"No, we managed to keep the intrusions minimal, figured you would want the first go at it."
Parker hums, appreciative of the detective's trust in their - no, his ability. Arthur was...
It was selfish, but Parker couldn't let himself dwell on it yet. "Let me see the basement storage."
Thomas leads him downstairs, offering a few observations as Parker follows. This staircase wasn't as often used, typically only by the maintenance worker or someone attempting to make a quiet retreat. Parker can remember Arthur remarking on his distaste for this exit to the building, not liking that it led directly to their storage spaces. Too many open ends leads to carelessness Parker, one of these days we'll find our storage stripped bare and what then?
The lot they had was taped off, chalk marks where Eddie had been left and the clear signs of being dusted for prints. He's surprised by the amount of blood still on scene, dried down and splattered on boxed files.
"Jesus."
"It's a grisly sight," Thomas agrees, leaning against an unobstructed cage, "Two gunshots then ended up being strangled - or the other way around. Either way it's a lot of blood and no answers."
"I wonder why someone would go to that length," Parker mutters, crouching under the tape to examine the unmarred parts of their storage unit. He tilts his head at one of the boxes, knowing for a fact it had not been left open the last time he had come down here to rifle through old files. He peers into the box, brow furrowed as he reads over the letter that had been left at the top of the box
"Find something?" Thomas asks curiously.
"Just some of our old junk mail, stuff for the previous tenant. Not sure why the box was left open," Parker replies, committing the address on the letter to memory and stepping back out. "Are there any suspects so far?"
"Other than your absent partner, no," Thomas sighs heavily, "It appears that Eddie was the only person actively in the building at the time. We have suspicion that Arthur fled after you were shot. What's interesting is that whoever came to kill Eddie either accessed the back stairwell or used a key to get in from the street."
"Come now Parker, I'd much prefer to enter the basement from the street. That stairwell is a deathtrap waiting to happen."
Parker's head swims at the memory, twisting to look at the offending door. Arthur had always kept their copy of the key. Parker insisted on using the stairs, Arthur always went through the effort of going through the alley. He heads for the door, yanking it open and taking a quick scan. More police tape, partially marked handprint on the ground, long washed away by the rain.
"We've hit a bit of a snag with the rain," Thomas says from over his shoulder, "It's an unfortunate circumstance, if we had found Eddie sooner we could've tracked the perp further."
"Unfortunate indeed," Parker agrees mildly, stepping back into the basement. "Do you mind if I have some time in my office?"
"Sure thing Parker," Thomas says agreeably, "But it's on a bit of a favor that I'm letting you do some of your own investigating. Between you and me you only popped in for some personal effects. You've got a way to get home in an hour or two yeah? You can stop into the station tomorrow for the more official questioning."
"Hour tops, I'll call a cab," Parker says with understanding, "I appreciate it."
"It's the least I can do," Thomas shrugs, "You're the one that almost got killed in your own office with your partner MIA. I'm sure you're as eager to find answers as we are."
Parker heads back up the stairs, leaving the detective to continue his work in the primary crime scene. The office was important of course, but no one had died there.
Returning alone means that the thoughts he had been pushing away for the past few days come rushing back. The door had been left ajar, the hinge squeaking slightly as Parker eases it open, then chooses to close it fully behind him.
Arthur always had a system when it came to investigating. Parker preferred to look at the situation as holistically as possible, observing from a wider angle in an attempt to catch any errant details. Parker preferred a more literal route. He steps to where he and Arthur had last been standing and raises his gaze to eye level.
Unnoticeable from any other angle, a shadow appears on the wall. Not a shadow, an imprint . Jagged and vaguely humanoid, towering above where Arthur stood with spikes emanating from where a head would be. Vague lines of motion, shoulders, arms, and a blurred mess of what could be legs. Parker takes one step back and the imprint vanishes. A step forward and it returns. Parker closes his eyes.
"Parker, did you order a book?"
"Not that I can remember, why?"
"This was left on our doorstep," Arthur rips off the paper and tosses it aside, ignoring Parker's noise of protest. "It seems quite old...did we order it for a case I wonder?"
Parker steps closer as Arthur opens the cover, catching a glimpse of a carved symbol into the leather material before he's frozen in place. A pressure fills the room, sandbags on each of his limbs yet his eyes are forced to meet the thing rising from yellowed pages. Arthur doesn't seem to notice it, voice rising in a chant that Parker hadn't registered him starting. The thing melts into Arthur, the book falling from his hands and the resulting thunk breaking through the static that had filled Parker's ears.
Arthur had met his gaze, eyes glinting an inhuman hue. He had smiled as he rushed him and Parker could only call out his name as he was thrown to the floor.
"But he didn't kill me," Parker mumbles aloud, running a thoughtful hand against his jaw. "Whatever had Arthur tried, but it failed."
His head begins to pound - the first protest from his body since beginning his own investigation. He walks over to sit at the piano bench, taking a moment to rest and investigate.
The keys were usually quite dusty but now...
"He played the piano...before moving me?" Parker says incredulously. Out of the many shocking revelations, that one sounded the most ridiculous but it was the only thing that made sense. "He gets possessed by something, tries to kill me, moves to the piano..." Parker recalls how Arthur had left the door open when he’d picked up the book initially and shakes his head, "Closes the door first, then goes to the piano to play?"
He twists around on the bench, tracking where the dust had been removed by skilled fingertips, "The angle makes sense for him to have walked to where I was, pulling me into the closet..."
Parker spots what he had been leading himself toward, picking up the crumpled packaging to the book. The address was one he knew - the old bookstore where he'd picked up a few things for an older case. It was strange that something had been delivered to them - especially since neither of them seemed to have placed the order. He and Arthur would often come to the same conclusion at the end of things, and Parker hoped that Arthur was following his typical line of thinking. If it was still Arthur.
"I suppose it's the least I can do to pay them a visit," Parker muses, tucking the packaging into his pocket.