Picking Up The Pieces

8. Spider-Boy

   I thought I was dead.

I could vaguely remember falling through the air, struggling to Apparate before I hit the ground. Praying my powers wouldn't fail me. Teleporting over Queens and landing in someone's arms.

My eyes fluttered open, and I took in my surroundings. I was in a small room, alone, laying in a bed, propped up by a few pillows. As I turned my head, I gasped in pain. I was slowly regaining feeling in my body, and I felt awful. I tried to sit up, but I collapsed back down with a whimper. A head appeared over me, and I glanced up to see a very familiar face staring at me in concern.

"You got me worried," he smiled. With a small flip, he landed in the chair by his desk before turning back to face me. His suit was still on, but the mask was removed. "By the time I got you here, you looked pale enough to be dead.

"Spider-Boy?" I croaked. He tilted his head slightly in a way that was somewhat cute.

"Hey," he greeted, giving me a small wave. I took an intake of air in shock.

"He's gone," I blurted, my voice drifting off. Lincoln was dead. I closed my eyes and shook my head. "It was my fault. It's my fault he's gone."

"Who?" Spider-Man asked, somewhat nervously. "Your boyfriend?" I glared at him through my teary eyes before turning away, wincing at the movement. "Sorry."

"My... friend, Lincoln," I sighed. "I could have saved him. I..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I was too ridden in guilt, shame. "I lost him, I lost Bucky, I lost Morgan... everyone." The room was silent for a few minutes before Spider-Man spoke up.

"Hey, I know you probably feel like shit," he started awkwardly. "But I need to clean your back again."

"What?" I asked, confused. Spider-Boy made a little hand gesture as if scratching someone.

"When you got here, I cleaned and wrapped up those scratches on your back," he explained. "I.. uh.. think I should check them, and since you're awake it might be easier."

"Sure," I nodded, but when I went to push myself up, I hissed. Spider-Man cursed under his breath.

"Sorry, sorry, forgot about your arm." He gingerly picked me off the bed bridal style and helped me on my feet. I almost fell over, and my metal arm went around his neck. "Easy," he soothed, and he helped me limp over to his desk. "Here, hold on to this." Spider-Man took my arm off his neck and set my fingers on the desk ledge.

"Thanks," I muttered as I bent over. I noticed that my organic arm was held in a makeshift sling. As I tried to flex my fingers (a horrible mistake), Spider-Boy slowly lifted the back of my shirt and unwrapped the bandage from my chest to above my waist. "How bad is it?"

"Do you want me to answer truthfully?" he inquired as he set the bandage in front of me. Splotches of blood were everywhere. "I mean, it was worse when I first brought you here-"

"When you brought me here?" I smiled, and then I yelped as he disinfected the cuts.

"Really sorry!"

"It's fine," I said as I grit my teeth. "So you're saying I've been crashing at your place... for how long?"

"Two days," Spider-Man answered, dabbing lightly at the worst areas.

"I'm guessing you're my age, so some guardian type lives here?"

"My... aunt," he sighed. "Told her I found you getting beaten up on the street." I chuckled.

"Quite the hero," I noted sarcastically. "You know- gahh!"

"Sorry!" Spider-Boy apologized again as he finished rewrapping the wounds. "I'm sorry it hurts so much. What did this to you?"