27- Bite The Bullet

                                    

                                          
A/N: Continued from the last part. . .

                          
My knees are trembling. I have no idea where to go, or whom to go to for help. I can't bring Peter to the hospital. I can't bring him to Stark Industries, or my own house. 
I can't reach my coms, because of my fear of dropping him. The longer I try to grasp a solution, the longer it takes for me to save Peter.
                          
I might have to take the risk to take him back to his apartment. I calm my breathing, but my pulse is racing.
I head back to Queens, as fast as I can without dropping my cargo. Clutching Peter tightly without breaking any of his bones from my severe nervousness. 
"Oh God, please be okay, please be okay," I whisper, nearing his city block.
                          
My mind is fuzzy. I want to punch The Tinkerer square in the face for what he has done. 
I'm overworked with stress, by the time I reach Peter's apartment. 
I breathe out a ragged breath, and hope that his Aunt May isn't home.
                          
Then I realize, how am I going to get the window open without loosening my grip on him?
                          
I hesitantly wrap my legs around the knocked out Peter, and still holding onto him for his life, pull open the window frame one handed, and slip him carefully through the sill.
I decide to not close the window just yet.
                          
"What happened?" A voice asks in shock and panic.
I look into the horrified face of Ned Leeds.
Still not willing to let go of Peter, I can only manage the words, "h-he got hit."
                          
I shakily set down Peter's limp body. I gently remove my friend's mask. I still can't believe that I let him come with me. That I gave in to him and his convincing.
"We n-need f-first aid," I stammer, not wanting to look yet at the additional injuries Peter could have gotten.
                          
"Why didn't you bring him to the hospital?" Ned questions frantically. 
"No one can know who he is, Ned," I remind him impatiently.
"How do you know who I am?"
"Uhh," I remember that Ned doesn't know I'm Intensity, or that Intensity is Fiona from school.
                          
I walk over to the door and touch the handle, "Is May still here?"
"She said she's running errands. How do you know who Peter's aunt is?"
"Stop asking questions. One of his arteries in his neck could be torn," I nearly wail. "He's bleeding."
"I think there are bandages in the medicine cabinet," Ned leans over his best friend.
I rush into the bathroom, and take all the gauze in sight, along with a pair of medic scissors, and bring  a damp washcloth.
                          
I walk back into Peter's room, and kneel on the ground.
While checking for anymore scratches, I clean out the gash on Peter's neck, with the cloth.
I take tape, because there was no medical tape anywhere, and patch the hole. "Hopefully that stops the bleeding," I put pressure on the wound.
"What if Mrs. Parker asks about it?" Ned watches me nervously, as I study Peter for any fractures.
"His aunt sees him come back with injuries all the time," I say distantly, wiping a tiny cut on Peter's forehead. My hands skim over his limbs, looking for punctures of any kind.
                          
"How do you know all of this stuff?" Ned asks watching me work.
"My dad's a paramedic, and he gave me some training," I check Peter's pulse for the second time since I placed him on the floor.
"How did he get like this?"
Instead of avoiding Ned's questions, I start to answer them. "Tinkerer set up a series of explosives. Guess his spider-sense couldn't get all of it down."
                          
"Were you there when he got hit?"
"I...was," I respond painfully. "I shielded him from most of it. But n-not enough."
"You did the best you could, I'm sure."
"I could have sent him back, but I didn't. He persuaded me to let him come. He already had an injury. I c-couldn't protect him enough." I hung my head.
Ned goes silent, probably because he doesn't know what to say.
After a few minutes of complete quiet, I finish up with the bandages. 
"That should hold until I can get more," I get to my feet, and collect the remaining supplies.