Work Text:
Shit.
He fucked up.
He hit Spider-man. He hit Spider-man. He hit Peter.
All sorts of thoughts were running through Frank’s head as he adjusted his arms. His legs were burning as he ran, trying to desperately run faster despite losing energy.
He hit Spider-man.
He killed Spider-man.
He killed his son Peter.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Carrying too much weight, Frank’s gun lay discarded, flung at a nearby lamppost and almost hitting a random child who had stopped and stared. For all Frank cared, it could have hit the child whilst his this practically child is bleeding out, dead-weight in his arms.
The hospital entrance is just in front of him as his legs and arms worked overtime to try and protect his potentially deadly misjudgement of how the situation had been unfolding.
His legs finally gave out as Spidey is placed on a gurney and whisked away, hands pressed desperately against the dark red of his otherwise bright red and blue suit. Frank’s breath, caught in inconsistent gulps, and his heart hammered as he stared at his bloodied hands. His eyes full of fear, despair and a deepened sense of guilt and shame. He would never live this down even, if hopefully, Spider-man survived.
He almost killed Spider-man.
He could have killed Spider-man.
He did kill Spider-man if it wasn’t for Jean Grey.
He did kill Spidey.
He almost killed his son.
He…he…he fired that damned shot.
He…It was him. No one else.
He almost killed his family.
He…
A chest is pressed against Frank’s ear, a steady heartbeat allowing Frank to slow his own down. His thoughts that swam around his head quietening down slightly as the man lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Words were said but Frank didn’t really register them as he finally calmed down enough to breathe properly.
Once completely calmed down, Frank is taken to the waiting room and later Spider-man’s room post-surgery.
“Spidey’s fine. You got him here in time. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
Those words sounded like heaven to Frank as the primary surgeon told him about Peter’s condition.
He didn’t kill him.
He’s fine. He will be found.
Frank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, shoulders loosened slightly as he stared at the man in front of him. Curly brown hair and what can only be assumed to be brown doe eyes. Cuts and bruises scattered throughout the body with the natural spinnerets making an appearance on Peter’s wrist. Not completely what Frank had imagined when he talked to Spidey but close enough. The kid was so young to have been a hero who had blipped. So, so young…and he had almost killed him.
The living, breathing Peter in front of him still can’t compete with that little voice in his head telling him its’ all his fault. Peter, this kid in front of him, almost died because of his carelessness. Because he didn’t know his intentions or the true situation unravelling on the other side of that glass. Because he had forgotten what a self-sacrificing idiot the young adult in front of him was.
And that had just about killed the guy (and Frank, inside. But he doesn’t need to acknowledge that at all because it’s easier to blame himself but not admit that a part of Frank would’ve died if Spidey did. A completely healthy coping mechanism for just about anything. That AND guns but guns really got him into this situation so it’s not really applicable in this scenario.).
With nothing better to do, and his legs screaming at him, Frank settled down and closed his eyes; the last thing he saw was Peter’s heart monitor, with the steady beeping, alerting everyone that Spider-man did in fact survive.
***
(POV: Bill)
Bill’s day was as average as any New Yorker’s was really. He had had a strange blip in his memory and the remanent feelings of being stuck, paralysed and unable to move. Bill was of course not the only one to feel that way but it’s not the craziest thing to happen to him.
His wife had blipped and during that time he had discovered how abusive she had been and had emotionally neglected his two children. Devils they are. Darling and Brad alike (He did not pick Darling; his ex had thought it was a unique name to say the least). Anyways, he had discovered he had been repressing his desire to date men, probably because the devil incarnate was living with him for 14 years.
So the blip had given him the opportunity to meet the love of his life and new found freedom: Gary. Gary was like a dream to Bill, could be with a model but decided to take pity on poor old Bill with two kids and a load of trauma, financial bills from the divorce, the messy divorce itself and of course the lingering remains of having to split custody with the witch.
But anyways, safe to say that between seeing half of New York swallowed into this black void thing, aliens attacking, and half the world turning to dust, it really was time for something else big-ish to happen.
That, however, was not the strangest part of his day.
Oh boy was that an understatement.
The weirdest thing was seeing the Punisher. That’s right. The Punisher of all people!
What was he doing?
Sprinting down the street, sorely failing at not crying as a limp Spider-man flopped around in his arms.
Now that was weird.
Especially the rogue gun that had flown through the air and almost hit some random child in the face.
Would have been a clean shot as well. Oh well.
As common as all the weird funky New York stuff happened, seeing the PUNISHER carrying New York’s mostly favourite vigilante/hero in his arms whilst he sprinted down the street is certainly new.
Oh.
What a fun story he can share to Gary and the kids.
With that thought, Bill bent down and picked up his briefcase he had dropped and practically skipped home.
...the end…