A Bird Without Wings (Discontinued)

I will take these broken wings (Watch me soar across the sky)

The past two weeks had been hell.

Tony had even wondered, in the worst moments, when Peter tossed and turned, and sobbed, and screamed, if that was actually where he was, because nothing could be worse than watching his son in so much pain, without being able to help.

He hadn't thought anything of it when Happy had brought Peter into the penthouse.

The teen had been pale, and wincing away from the light, so when Happy told him he had one of his headaches, he accepted it without second thoughts.

He regretted that more than anything.

He had gone into Peter's room an hour later to check on him, carrying tylenol and water, only to find Peter deathly still, with the faint rise and fall of his breath the only movement.

Tony had shaken him gently, tapping his cheek.

Peter didn't move.

Throughout the night, his health had slowly declined, to the point where his face was flushed with fever, and droplets of sweat rolled down his temples and darkened his hair.

His eyes, when he opened them, were glassy and listless.

Peter didn't seem to know where he was, crying out for his father even when Tony was there beside him.

Helen had arrived in the morning, taking over the room with her brisk demeanor, and commanding presence, despite being shorter than the fourteen year old in the bed.

She had him carried down to the medical wing, where she had ushered everyone out while she took stats, and only let Tony back in when Peter called for him.

Tony held Peter's cold hand between his own, pressing the still fingers to his lips. "It's gonna be okay, bud. I promise. You're gonna be okay."

Helen let him stay the night in a chair beside the bed, and his back did not like that.

A bed was brought down that afternoon, and he didn't spend a night away from his son.

On day seven, the fever reached dangerous levels, and Cho looked more worried than Tony had ever seen her.

"His DNA, it's..." she shook her head tiredly. "I've never seen something like this. It's as if his very DNA is changing. I'll do what I can, Mr Stark, but you may need to prepare for goodbyes."

Tony sat still, as if she had stunned him. "No. No, I'm not going to say goodbye. Not to Peter. Never to Peter. Fix this."

With that, he stormed back to Peter's bedside, taking his hand again.

On day eight Peter started hallucinating, crying out about bloody eyes and faces, shrinking away from all touch.

Nothing could soothe him, and Helen finally had to sedate him or risk his IV's getting torn out.

Day nine, Ned visited.

Helen had deemed whatever it was not contagious, and Ned wanted to see his best friend.

It seemed he had been expecting the worst, because he barely flinched when he saw the state that Peter was in.

The teenager just sat at his bedside, giving him the rundown on what had been happening at school.

Not caring that his friend couldn't hear him, he talked for hours, about Lego sets, homework, someone called Flash, anything and everything that came to mind.

At the end of his visit, he stopped by where Tony was standing.

His face was solemn, and his eyes were wet. "He's not gonna wake up... is he."

It was more a statement than a question, but Tony answered tiredly. "Helen said it's a possibility. But I hope to God that he will."

Ned ducked his head, nodding tightly. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

Tony nodded, the boy nodded back, and they parted ways.

Day ten was the worst yet, to the point where Tony stayed awake the entire night, face wet, but eyes dry.

Peter could barely breathe by himself, and Helen had him intubated.

The mechanical inhale, and exhale formed a rhythm by which he measured time.

Counting each breath, hoping it wouldn't be his last.

Inhale...

Exhale...

In...

Out...

Peter's recovery after that night was fast, shocking them all.

Helen deemed him out of danger on the thirteenth day, saying he might wake up within days.

She sent Tony to take a shower, and get some rest since there was no longer such a risk when he left.

Three hours later, he woke up to a hurried knocking on the door, and he leapt out of bed with his heart in his throat.

Helen waited outside, smiling widely. "He's awake."

Peter lay on his side, eyes fixed on the wall, one hand curled up under his chin.

His eyes were wet, and his face was tearstained.

He wasn't wearing his aids, and, unaware of their re-entrance, his breathing was fast and uneven.

"Go get his hearing aids, please." Tony kept his eyes on his son, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, leaving him lightheaded.

Helen left, and he moved to Peter's side, resting a hand on the thin shoulder.

Peter flinched, eyes darting around frantically, before relaxing when his gaze landed on his dad.

His lower lip trembled, and he held his arms out weakly.

Tony gently pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on the top of Peter's head.

The world was blurry, and he dimly realized he was shaking when Peter burrowed closer, small sounds escaping as he tried to stifle his sobs.

"You're okay," Tony whispered. "You're okay now. You're gonna be fine."

Holy crap I'm tired.

I just got back from vacation, and I am going to collapse on my bed and sleep, preferably for a week.

Anyway.

I wrote this as a birthday present for myself, seeing as tomorrow I will finally be 16!

Yay!

Anyway, please vote and comment to let me know what you guys thought of this chapter!

Love you guys!