Chapter 80: Peter's Regret, Uncle Ben's Rescue
Peter was heading back to the drop-off spot to wait for Uncle Ben when he noticed the crowd.
A knot of people, thickening fast, gathered around something on the street. Peter felt a cold prickle at the base of his skull and started walking faster.
He pushed through the wall of onlookers and reached the front.
A police officer put an arm out to stop him.
Peter saw who was on the ground.
"That's my UNCLE!"
He shoved past the cop, dropped to his knees, and started checking Uncle Ben's body with shaking hands.
He turned to the nearest officer, voice breaking. "What happened? What happened to him?"
"Carjacking. He took a bullet. Ambulance is on the way."
Peter's eyes went wide. He couldn't process it. His Uncle Ben — the gentlest man alive — shot.
"Uncle Ben — Uncle Ben —" Peter was crying his name, shaking him, trying to pull him back.
Then the world shifted.
Peter blinked. He wasn't on the street anymore. He was in a room. Uncle Ben was lying on a bed.
Everything around him was unfamiliar. Peter's panic spiked. He looked around wildly, searching for anything he recognized. Nothing.
"I did tell you, didn't I? Think your decisions through."
Peter spun. Ethan was standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
Peter's rage detonated. He was on his feet, fist swinging.
"What did you DO to him?! Who are you?! What do you WANT?!"
Every question came out raw and ragged. He didn't care how he'd gotten here. He didn't care about the room, the mystery, any of it. He only cared whether Uncle Ben was alive or dead.
Ethan sidestepped the punch without effort.
"You sure you want to hit the only person who can save your uncle?"
"As for where this is — it's my place."
What Ethan was not going to tell Peter was that he'd had to physically carry both of them here one at a time using Quick Movement, like some kind of super-powered taxi service. It was undignified. He made a mental note to learn the Mirror Dimension properly before next time.
Peter crumbled. He hit his knees.
"You — you can save him, right? Please — I'm sorry — please save him. I'll do anything. Whatever you want. Just bring him back."
Peter believed it. A man who could teleport people out of a crime scene without anyone noticing had to have something — some ability, some miracle — that could save Uncle Ben.
Ethan looked at Uncle Ben on the bed, then back at Peter.
"You know he didn't have to end up here. If you'd stopped the thief at the elevator — if you'd done the right thing when it was in front of you — none of this would have happened."
Peter went rigid. The words hit him like voltage.
He couldn't breathe. His hand went to his chest, pressing against the pain that had nothing to do with injury.
The tears started — hard, fast, ugly — and Peter began bowing, forehead to the floor, over and over.
"Please, Ethan. Save my uncle. I know I made a mistake. I know it. I'll take whatever comes from it. Just — please."
The guilt was eating him alive. He knew. He knew the thief in the hallway was the same man who'd shot Uncle Ben. He'd let him go. He'd chosen to look away. And this was the price.
Ethan looked down at Peter, sobbing on the floor, and there was nothing soft in his face.
"Isn't it better this way? No more lectures. Nobody telling you what to do. You can do whatever you want now."
Peter's whole body shook. The words cut into places he didn't know he had.
"No — I need him — I can't — I can't do this without him — I know I was wrong, I know — Ethan, please —"
Ethan looked at him for a long, still moment.
Then, quietly:
"People never appreciate what they have until it's gone. Not my problem."
He turned and walked out. Closed the door behind him.
On the other side, Ethan's mouth curved into a small smile. He tossed the Horse Talisman to Wade, who had been leaning against the wall eavesdropping the entire time.
Because the truth was — Ethan had already saved Uncle Ben. The moment he'd gotten to the scene, before Peter had even arrived, he'd used the Horse Talisman.
He had the power. And he wasn't the kind of person who could watch a good man bleed out in front of him.
The multiverse had killed enough Uncle Bens. You could pave the Earth with their headstones. Ethan had decided, stubbornly and unilaterally, to save this one.
Did Peter need Uncle Ben to die before he'd wake up? Ethan didn't think so. Not anymore.
He hadn't used a Senzu Bean — he only had two left, and those were for emergencies. The Horse Talisman was the right call. Healing without consumption.
And as for why he hadn't told Peter — that was the point. Peter needed the lesson branded into his bones. He needed to sit in front of that bed and believe, for as long as it took, that his selfishness had killed the man who raised him.
Besides, Uncle Ben was recovering. Let the kid cry it out in front of the old man. Let him earn the reunion.
Outside the door, Wade whispered: "Man, this kid is wrecked. Can I go in and take photos?"
Inside the room, Peter knelt beside the bed, holding Uncle Ben's hand, drowning in regret.
The promoter's words were ringing in his skull: Not my problem. His own words, thrown back at the promoter, were ringing louder: Not my problem.
He had let the thief walk. And the thief had shot his uncle.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Ben." Peter's voice was barely a whisper, raw and broken.
He was so deep in grief that when a voice spoke, he almost didn't register it.
"Peter. I'm alright. Stop crying."
Peter froze.
I'm imagining it.
He looked up.
Uncle Ben's eyes were open.
"Uncle Ben — you're — you're okay?"
He almost couldn't see through the tears. The man was pale, clearly weak — but he was breathing, blinking, alive.
Uncle Ben gave him a small, tired smile. "I'm not sure what happened. I think someone saved me."
His voice was thin, but the gratitude in it was real. He'd been certain that was the end. Waking up in a strange room, alive, felt like a gift he hadn't earned.
Peter exhaled so hard his whole body deflated. The weight — the impossible, crushing, soul-destroying weight — lifted.
His eyes went to the door. He could almost see Ethan on the other side of it.
He saved him. He already saved him. Before I even asked.
Uncle Ben seemed to read the direction of Peter's thoughts.
"Go on, son. Thank whoever it was for me."
Peter nodded. He squeezed Uncle Ben's hand one more time.
Then he stood up.
☆☆☆
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