"I still cry foul," said Clint as he sunk into one of the chairs in the living room. He groaned as he shifted, trying to find a position that didn't rub against his newly forming bruise. Paintballs always left bruises.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "You always cry foul when you lose."

"Because you guys always cheat!" Clint looked over at Tony for support but found none. The man had made a beeline straight for bar the moment they had arrived back at headquarters. He was currently pouring drinks for both him and Steve, who had perched himself on one of the stools at the counter.

"Give it up," said Tony. "We'll beat them next week." He pushed a glass of liquor toward Steve and picked up the other for himself. "Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y, did I receive any calls while I was gone?"

"No sir," came the disembodied voice. "However there was something on the news that I believe you may want to see."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Alright, go ahead and play it." He walked into the living room, drink in hand, as a television flickered to life. A raging fire appeared on the screen. Firemen were rushing around the scene, attempting to put out the flames. "No word yet," said a newswoman, "on exactly how many were injured in the apartment fire that racked Queens today."

Tony drink paused halfway to his mouth. He felt his stomach sink.

"Roads are closed to make room for emergency vehicles and Central Hospital has been prepared for the influx of patients. So far one only death has been confirmed but…"

"Peter…" Tony whispered. F.R.I.D.A.Y wouldn't have shown him this unless it was important, and Tony knew only one person who lived in Queens.

Somebody laid a hand on his shoulder. "Tony, what's wrong?" asked Steve.

Tony pushed his liquor into the man's hands. "I have to go," he said.

"Whats going on?"

"Tony whats wrong?"

"Hey man, slow down."

Tony ignored the concerned questions of his teammates as he grabbed his jacket from the counter and rushed out the door.

He ignored the speed limits as he drove to Central Hospital. When he pulled up to the emergency room entrance he was greeted with the sight of nearly a dozen ambulances and dozens more medical personnel.

Tony parked his car on the curb and raced into the building. There was a nurse sitting at the front desk but she was preoccupied handling the line of individuals asking questions and the phones that wouldn't stop ringing. She was too distracted to notice when Tony looked over the desk to the files lying on the counter.

One of them read, "Parker, Peter: Room 207."

Tony rushed to the elevator but when it took too long to arrive he used the stairs instead. No doctor or nurse stopped him as he ran passed them in the hallway.

The door to room 207 was open and it had only one patient. Tony let out a breathe that he didn't know he was holding as he saw Peter unconscious, but alive on the bed. The heart rate monitor beeped steadily and the boys chest rose and fell. Tony ran a hand through his hair, relief causing his adrenaline to fade and his body to become suddenly tired.

He patted the boys blanket covered knee. "God kid," he said. "Don't scare me like that."

Peter didn't respond, not that Tony expected him to. The boys eyes were closed and his face looked so peaceful that if it weren't for the mask over his mouth and the tubes in his arm Tony would have assumed he was simply taking a nap. Upon closer inspection Tony noticed wrapped bandages on the child's arms and a few blisters on his neck. Peter had made it out alive but he didn't make it out unscathed.

Suddenly Tony realized that somebody was missing. If Peter was here, where was his aunt?

The sinking feeling returned to Tony's stomach and he went back into the hallway to hail a nurse. He found one strolling out of another room and stopped her. "Excuse me," he asked. "The patient in room 207; did anybody arrive with him? A young woman?" She looked confused for a moment until Tony pointed to the room he was referring to. Than her eyes became sad. "Nobody arrived with him sir," She said. "But the paramedic who brought him in said the woman in the apartment with him didn't survive. They don't have an ID yet but we assume she was family or a close friend. We have a doctor prepared to share the bad news with him when he wakes up."

It took Tony a moment to register what the nurse was saying. Peter's aunt was dead. May was gone.

Tony thanked the nurse and returned to Peter's room. He sighed as he laid a hand on the boys forehead. "I'm sorry kid," he said. "I am so very sorry." May was the last family Peter had. Peter was truly an orphan now and Tony knew exactly how that felt. He, himself, lost both his parents. The memory of the loneliness and grief that he had felt in those dark days suddenly resurfaced and Tony began to feel nauseous. He wouldn't wish that pain on anybody.

In that moment Tony made a decision. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. As it rang he went to the foot of the bed and grabbed the clipboard containing the notes of Peter's health.

Bruce picked up on the second ring. "Tony?" Bruce's voice was full of concern. "Tony, where are you? Are you okay? What…"

Tony cut him off, "Can I safely transport a patient who suffered from smoke inhalation, severe burns on his arm and torso," he flipped the page on the clipboard, "and a concussion."

"What? Why would you…"

"Just answer me Bruce."

"I...I wouldn't recommend it unless it was necessary. If the patient is in stable condition, and you kept him supplied with oxygen than they could be transported safely for a short distance. Tony, what's going on? Is this about the fire on the news? Whose…"

"Prep the Medbay. I'm returning home with a patient for you."

"Wait, you can't…"

Tony hung up before the man could finish his sentence.

He looked at Peter again and noticed that the tube providing the boy oxygen was connected to the wall. Tony walked around the room, opening cabinets. When he didn't find what he was looking for he walked back out into the hallway and started searching other rooms. A few minutes later he returned with a large metal canister that read 'O2' on the front. As he was hooking Peter's mask up to the new source of oxygen a nurse passed by and, noticing Tony, stepped inside. "Excuse me…" She said, "what do you think you are doing?"

Tony didn't look up from his task. "I'm taking this boy with me."

"You can't do that, it's not allowed."

Tony laid the oxygen canister gently on the bed next to Peter and went around the bed, unlocking the wheels that kept it stationary. "Too bad, I'm taking him anyways." He pushed Peter and the bed passed the nurse and out into the hallway.

"I'm calling security," the nurse said.

Tony simply waved his hand dismissively and said, "Go ahead. I'm sure the media would love a good news story over how a nurse prevented Iron Man from saving America…." It was a completely empty threat, and a pathetic one at that. He wasn't sure how stealing a patient would ever be construed as 'saving America' but the nurse didn't seem to think so. Her mouth opened, and closed, and than opened again. Finally she simply walked away and into the next patients room.

Tony shrugged, praying the nurse didn't change her mind and call the police on him, and continued rolling Peter into the elevator and out the hospital door. Nobody else bothered to stop him, too busy with the dozens of burn victims that were still being brought in.

When they reached his car he lifted Peter, and the canister off the bed and laid him gently in the back seat. He rearranged the blanket around the boy and strapped him in.

He drove through no less than five red lights on his way back to headquarters.

Steve was waiting in the garage for him when he pulled up. Tony didn't bother to turn off the ignition as he stepped out and opened the back car door. He grabbed the oxygen canister and handed it to Steve. Carefully he lifted Peter into his arms, the blankets spilling onto the concrete floor as he secured his hold. Steve looked at Tony with a concerned, questioning expression but he didn't say anything as Tony led them to the Medbay.

Bruce had already prepared a bed and a table of medical equipment when they arrived. He ushered Tony to place Peter on top of the sheets. Tony did as he was told and Bruce went about his work. He checked the boys vitals, unwrapped the bandages to examine the burns, and flashed a light into his eyes.

Finally he turned around, arms crossed over his chest and said, "What were you thinking Tony? You can't just transport a patient without taking proper medical precautions."

Tony fell into a chair beside the bed. "I couldn't just leave him there." He rested his hands on his knees, horrified to see that they were trembling.

"Who is this kid anyways?" Clint and Natasha had appeared in the doorway. They had changed out of their paintball covered clothes and each held a glass of liquor.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Tony, "Have you been keeping a secret from us all these years? Can't say I'm surprised though…."

Tony threw his hands up into the air. "He's not my kid! This…" he indicated to Peter. "Is Peter Parker. AKA Spiderman."

The team all turned to look at Peter.

"Him?" Clint said it as if he couldn't believe it. "The kid? I knew he was young but geesh. He should be called Spiderboy."

Tony grinned. "Yeah, already tried that. Kid didn't like the name."

Steve walked around the bed, staring down at Peter. "Why did you bring him here? Does his family know you have him?"

The smile faded from Tony's face. He ran a hand through his hair. "That's why I brought him. His last remaining family member died in the fire tonight. I…" he paused, not wanting to give voice to how he actually felt for the kid. He was reluctant to have anybody, even his fellow Avengers, thinking he had gone soft.

Bruce finished his sentence, "You didn't want him to be alone."

Tony shook his head. "No."

Peter became aware of the pain before anything else. His head pounded, threatening to explode. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. It was far too bright for his comfort.

"Peter?"

A face swam into view, blocking out some of the harshness of the light. Blurry features slowly came into focus. "Peter, can you hear me?"

"T...Tony?" Peter asked. His voice came out muffled and he reached a hand up to his mouth, noticing that it was covered in a mask.

"It's alright Peter," said Tony, gently guided his hand back down to his side. "Your in the Medbay at headquarters."

Peter scrunched up his face in confusion. "Why am I…." the memories came flooding back. The fire and the heat. The heaviness of the smoke and his inability to breathe.

He had been in his bedroom, listening to music through his headphones as he worked on a school paper. By the time he smelt the smoke it had been too late. The moment he took off his headphones he had heard people shouting throughout the building and sirens blaring in the distance.

The memory became hazy after that. He didn't remember if, or how he had gotten out. But he remembered pain. He remembered his eyes watering from the smoke, and not being able to breathe.

Than he remembered a terrified face shouting for him. Screaming for him to run, to get out while he still could.

"Aunt May!" Peter shouted. The memory was gone and he was back in the medbay. He tried to sit upright but the pain in his head spiked and he felt his stomach turn on him. Leaning over the side of the bed Peter vomited all over Tony Stark. He ignored the disgusted look on Tony's face as he shouted, "Where's Aunt May!?"

Tony looked up from his ruined shirt, his expression changing from annoyance to sorrow. There was pain evident in his eyes as he said, "Peter…"

Oh no. Peter knew that look. It was the same look the agents had worn the day they told him his parents had died. He did not want to ever see that look again.

"No…" Peter whispered. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. "No, your lying!" He threw himself off the bed but his legs got caught in the sheets and he tumbled to the ground. "Aunt May! Aunt May!" he called for her, looking to the door, expecting to see her walk in with her signature smile. "Aunt May!"

Tony was at his side in a instant, gently pushing him back to the ground when he tried to get up. "Peter, calm down..."

Peter didn't want to calm down. He wanted to find his aunt. He tried to get up but Tony kept a firm grip on his shoulders. "Get off me!" Peter shouted. He squirmed and struggled in a sad attempt to free himself.

Tony's voice was stern as he said, "Peter, you have to listen!"

But Peter didn't want to listen. He growled and kicked the man in the knee. Tony buckled to the floor, his hands leaving Peter's shoulders to catch himself in the fall. Peter shakily got to his feet and stumbled to the door, the IV pole and machinery that he was hooked up to dragging along behind him. "Aunt may!" He shouted. The pain in his head worsened and his stomach threatened to upturn again. "Aunt May!" His legs suddenly gave out and he face planted to the floor. Before he could get up again Tony had wrapped his arms around Peters chest, dragging him backwards from the door.

Peter flailed in the man's grip. "Let go of me! Let go of me!" he shouted. "I need to find Aunt May!"

Tony groaned as an elbow made its way into his gut. "Not...until...you calm down. F.R.I.D.A.Y! Get Bruce down here immediately!"

Peter bit down on the hand that was holding him in place and was rewarded with a yelp. Tony's grip didn't loosen so Peter bit the man again, holding his jaw firmly in place as it began to draw blood. But Tony still did not let him go, instead choosing to pick the kid off the floor to throw him in back onto the bed. Even with the soft mattress underneath him the force knocked the wind out of Peter and he let go of the man's hand in lou of taking in a breathe.

Tony unwound his arms and put all his weight on the center of Peter's back. "Peter, just relax…." he panted.

"Oh my…" came a voice from the doorway.

"Finally!" exclaimed Tony. "Help me out here will you?"

Peter flailed underneath Tony's weight but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't free himself. As he began to fatigue he was able to pick up on the sound of metal tools russling.

A man with a sympathetic expression came into his field of vision. "I'm going to give you something to help you relax, okay?"

Peter began to panic. He couldn't relax, he had to find May. He needed to find May. He struggled harder to no avail. "No, no, don't!"

It fell on deaf ears as the man inserted as syringe into his IV bag. Within moments Peter felt his muscles relax, despite his protests, and the corners of his vision started to darken. He felt the weight on his back release but he could no longer move, suddenly too tired and exhausted.

Somebody was carding their fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry Peter," whispered Tony. "I am so sorry."

That was the last thing he heard before his world went black once again.

When Peter woke it was to pain. His entire body ached and his head still throbbed. Tony was sleeping in the chair beside him, his feet propped up on the bed and his arms crossed over his chest. He was snoring.

Sighing Peter closed his eyes again and let himself fall back to sleep.

The third time he woke to voices that hurt his head. He decided he just wanted them to go away, to leave him alone.

Peter turned onto his side and groaned as the movement brought a fresh wave of agony. He curled up into a ball and hid his face in the blankets.

The voices stopped talking and Peter could hear footfalls edge closer to the bed. Why wouldn't they just leave him be?

"Peter?"

Peter chose not to respond.

"Peter are you awake?"

Gentle hands pulled the blanket away from his face. "Peter can you open your eyes for us?"

But Peter didn't want to. He wanted to stay in the darkness. He didn't want to open his eyes to the world where the last of his family had died.

The gentle hands were back, this time pulling open one eyelid. Before Peter could see who stood in front of him a bright light flashed in his eye.

That's all it took for his brain to explode. A wave of pain shot down his body and he got sick all over the sheets.

"Jesus Christ!" came a familiar voice. "How many times can one kid puke?"

"He has a concussion Tony, it's going to happen."

The spots faded from Peter's vision and he saw the man with the glasses standing beside his bed. Peter recognized him but it took several moments for him to remember from where. It was Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk. Peter had been more used to seeing the green monster on TV than the actual person behind it.

Bruce sighed, looking at the mess Peter had made. Than he grabbed the blankets off of him and threw them into a nearby bin.

Peter shivered as he was exposed to cold air.

Another blanket was draped over him and Peter turned his gaze to see Tony tucking in the corners into the mattress. The man noticed his gaze and the corners of his lips lifted in a sad smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living." The joking voice didn't quite reach Tony's eyes.

Bruce came back over. "Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" Peter meant to be sarcastic but the words came out sounding pathetic.

Tony laid a hand on the boy's blanket covered knee. It was a small gesture but Peter knew that comforting others was not the man's strongest talent.

"Do you need anything?" asked Bruce. "How's the pain?"

In all honesty, Peter's head was pounding and his arms and chest itched underneath the bandages. However instead of admitting it he muttered a "fine." Physical pain was a distraction to the deep ache in his heart.

Bruce frowned, looking as if he didn't believe him. "I think I'm going to give you an extra dose anyways. Just in case." He walked to the medical counter on the other side of the room and began rummaging through the cabinets.

Tony took a seat in the chair beside him. "Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Did you want anything to eat?"

Peter shook his head and turned onto his side, so his back was facing Tony. Closing his eyes he left himself be drifted back into sleep. In his dreams he could see his aunt, smiling and laughing over a box of pizza with him.

Tony sighed as he looked up at Bruce. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce pulled the blankets higher onto the shoulder of their slumbering patient. "He just needs time. Everybody responds to grief in their own way and we need to let him work through the motions. You, however, should go upstairs to get some sleep. You've been up for over 24hrs and will be of no use to Peter if you let yourself get sick."

Tony rubbed his face with both palms. In truth, he was exhausted, but when he looked down at Peter he just couldn't bear to leave him.

"Tony," Bruce's voice was firm. "He's going to sleep for hours and I will be here to keep an eye on him. Go to bed."

Tony sighed again. He knew the doctor was right, so he gave Peter's leg one last pat before standing up. Looking at Bruce he said, "You will let me know the moment he wakes up, right?"

Bruce made a cross with his hand over his heart. "Promise."

Hoping he wouldn't regret it Tony left the medbay. On his way to his bedroom he made a quick stop by the kitchen to grab something to eat. He was rummaging through the fridge, trying to decide whether or not he wanted leftover pizza or a sandwich, when Steve walked in.

"How's the kid?"

Tony place the box of cold pizza on the counter. "Honestly...I don't know. Last night he woke up swinging, trying to leave so he could rescue his aunt. It took double the dose of sedatives to knock him out. This morning he wouldn't even look me in the eye."

Steve sat on one of the chairs, and grabbed a slice of pizza. "He just needs time Tony."

"That's what Bruce said too…"

Steve swallowed the last of the pizza and stood up. He patted Tony on the shoulder. "Bruce is right. And if he's not, than you have us. We will help any way we can."

With those words Steve left Tony alone with his thoughts.

Tony looked down at his half eaten pizza and realized that he was no longer hungry. He threw the leftovers in the garbage and went to bed. The afternoon sun was shining through his window when he finally fell asleep.

To be continued...