Saving the World Does Not a Hero Make

by Azure K Mello

Years ago, Tony Stark created a brutal weapon. When SHIELD learned of its existence, they wanted it. Deciding Spider-Man was the weakest link in Iron Man's armor, Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon were sent to apprehend him. But, apprehending a fifteen-year-old is more correctly be termed as kidnapping. And what SHIELD called interrogation was, in actuality, torture.

Title: Saving the World Does Not a Hero Make

Summary: Years ago, Tony Stark created a brutal weapon. Even when he was the Merchant of Death, he couldn't bring himself to put it on the market. But, when S.H.I.E.L.D. learned of its existence, they wanted it. Deciding Spider-Man was the weakest link in Iron Man's armor, Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon were sent to apprehend him — hoping he either knew where the weapon was or that they could trade him to Tony for it.

But, apprehending a fifteen-year-old is more correctly be termed as kidnapping. And what S.H.I.E.L.D. called interrogation was, in actuality, torture. And, when push came to shove, Peter had to save himself when no one else was going to help.

Warning: Kinda gruesome violence.

Notes: JuliaCarver14 wrote a great story, Spider-man vs. The Avengers, I loved it. This is a much darker version of that story. With her permission, I lifted some of her dialogue straight from her story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed her story and as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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It hurt like fire when Captain America's shield hit his leg. It all hurt. And when he tried to climb away from him, up the wall of his school, Falcon flew up, grabbed him around the waist and tossed him to the ground. Landing on his feet made his leg scream. "Yeah, that's serious," he thought. He tried to web his way out of it, shooting up and swinging way but Captain America threw the shield again, cutting the line, making him fall to the ground. He hit his head, hard. And then, still trying to get away, Black Widow was there and injecting something in his neck.

She spoke in a soothing voice as she said, "Relax, it's just a sedative. You'll be fine, Peter, we're taking you to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ." There was nothing soothing about her words.

And as he slipped into unconsciousness he asked himself a simple question, was Tony Stark's friendship, and the beautiful suit the man had made for him, worth this?

Mr. Stark had built a weapon, many years before Iron Man. He had locked it down, saying it was too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. He hadn't destroyed it, too proud of the work. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about it and wanted it. Mr. Stark refused to give it to the people who had almost nuked New York. That made sense to Peter. Then Mr. Stark said they would target Peter as the weak link.

That had stopped making sense and instead made Peter uncomfortable, getting between the Avengers and being pulled in as a pawn in a fight that wasn't his own. He didn't want that. They found out where he lived, they tracked him to his school and they kidnapped him from the alley when he tried to sneak out the back door. Big damn heroes, huh? Three against one isn't fair by any math.

He woke up in shackles on a plane they took him to a boat. He broke his handcuffs and tried to get away, but between his yup-definitely-broken leg and the sedative and their numbers, he went down and was paralyzed with some light flashy-thingy that let him breathe, let him speak but he couldn't move his body. Fury called him brave and stupid, he said it wasn't a prison but Peter had been in shackles and was very much their prisoner. They doubled his guards as he limped the rest of the way to a small cell with a glass wall and a small porthole that showed the ocean. It had a bed with sheets and a single thin blanket. There were sweats and a long-sleeved shirt there. The lights were too bright for his concussed-head and the room was so very cold.

They left him alone and Peter was on his lonesome, nothing but the pain in his body and the cold air for company. It was so cold it bit into his skin. He could see his breath. He wished he was wearing a coat when they beat him up but it was a warm almost-summer day. Now he was so cold it hurt. He took off his t-shirt, put on the long-sleeved shirt and added his own shirt back over the top. It wasn't such, but layers were important. His leg was screaming and Peter tried to pull his jeans up to look at it but he couldn't get it over the swelling. It was embarrassing, he knew there were cameras but he needed to get at the swelling. He peeled his jeans off and sat in his boxers. His calf was badly swollen and bright red, bruise not fully set in. He didn't cry; he wasn't gonna cry. He could tell the bone was wrong, his leg was a weird shape. Taking a very deep breath, he pushed the bone back into place — or a close approximation. At least, it looked right to him. He tried to put his jeans back on and found that he couldn't. So he tore the back of the leg before sliding them on, giving his swollen leg the space it needed. Then he tugged the sweats on over his jeans. He was still cold. Of course he was still cold. He would be cold with a winter coat and gloves. Everything hurt. He didn't want to fall asleep, TV told him that sleeping with a concussion could kill him. But it was so bright.

"Hey," he called out, "after Captain America broke my leg with his shield, he also cut my web and I hit my head really hard. Can you turn the lights down just a skosh? The concussion and the pain are adding up to me vomiting so I would really appreciate it if you could turn the lights down just a little." The lights turned off leaving him in total darkness, except for the little light coming in through the window. "Perfect, A+, guys, seriously: I'd give your floating prison four stars on TripAdvisor. Would have been five but there's no toilet for when I do eventually vomit and there was no mint on my pillow. Plus, I get that you're trying to do mental torture, not leave marks but still put pressure on me with the cold, but I feel you should have left me with a sweatshirt. I can see my breath. I get the intimidation tactics but I'm a skinny fifteen-year-old with a badly broken leg and a concussion. You just had three Avengers tag team beating and drugging me: consider me intimidated. Throw a guy a bone and give him a sweatshirt."

Soon, he was getting out of here. He wasn't going to admit he knew little about the weapon; that would get rid of his worth to these people. He wasn't going to betray Mr. Stark by telling them the little he knew about the weapon. But he knew that Mr. Stark wasn't going to betray him, he would come through. Mr. Stark wouldn't give these people the weapon. He would blow it up and send them a video, proving it was done. It was going to be five hours — max — before he was back in New York. But he hurt so much. He sat in the dark for about an hour, the sun fully set. "Someone WebMD it: I need something for the pain and the swelling in my leg. That suggests I need ibuprofen. It's a good painkiller and it lessens swelling. But I also have a brain bleed, so I shouldn't take a blood thinner, like ibuprofen. What's a happy medium?"

There was no response, "Bueller, Bueller?" No one responded and he said, "You might think, being a teen, I would rate Ferris Bueller's Day off as the best eighties movie but, when you think about it, I wasn't born until two thousand and two, they all get rated as just 'old movies I saw as a kid,' and the best one for a kid is E.T. I loved that movie. It convinced me I like Reese's Pieces. And I really don't. I love peanut butter but peanut butter M&Ms are exponentially better than Reese's because, hello: chocolate. Although the shell on Reese's are nicer because you can pop them against the roof of your mouth, unlike M&Ms which you either have to suck through or crunch with your teeth. And if you think I'm talking, 'cause I'm scared, you're incorrect. Don't get me wrong: I'm terrified. But, like, if I have to be here I'm gonna be as irritating as possible. You're not going to turn off the mic, just in case I say where the weapon is, so you're gonna listen. Even people who love me get irritated when I witter. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'How is a nerd not ranking Empire and Jedi higher?' But, as New Hope was in the seventies, I don't feel it's right to put them as eighties movies. Plus, they're in a league of their own.

"I had a great dad. The guy who claims he invented the machete order is a big fat liar. When I was five my dad showed me the modified machete order. So good, best way of telling Luke's story. You watch New Hope, you meet Luke, you learn about the force. You see Empire and you learn — spoiler alert — Vader is Luke's dad. Then you slam it back to Attack of the Clones and you see his mom and dad courting then you watch their relationship fall apart and his dad become evil in Revenge of the Sith. Then, boom, into the present day with Return of the Jedi where we see everything come to a head and Luke's dad gets his redemption. It's perfection. And he never showed me Episode One, because as I said, he was a great dad. Plus, as a small child, Return of the Jedi is the best so it ends on a high note because it has so many Muppets and the Ewoks are just so darn cute. When I was little my mom got me this giant Ewok to sleep with: so cute. It seemed so giant but now it's not, I still have it on my bed but I'm bigger now so it doesn't seem so big. And, yeah, I have a stuffed animal on my bed, I'm not ashamed: I'm a child. You beat and kidnapped a child. You didn't take me into custody, you kidnapped me. It's called kidnapping because I'm a kid."

He took a breath and said, "Where are my drugs? I would like them in a factory sealed container. I don't trust you not to coat them in sodium thiopental or whatever the S.H.I.E.L.D. equivalent is. Also, when you get to food, if you get to food: highly processed and in sealed packing please: I'm not eating anything you touched, because you could definitely drug that. I'm not saying you have to feed me. But my metabolism is four times faster than an average person so I will starve to death in a little over eight days. I lie awake at night sometimes, worrying. And most of it is the normal stuff: what if someone gets my mask off, what if I fail my Algebra test, what if the Vulture beats me to death? Normal teenage stuff, but sometimes I think about the apocalypse and how I will definitely be the first to starve to death. I never lost sleep thinking about getting beaten by three Avengers because that wasn't going to happen. Good guys play clean. Mr. Stark has been trying to train me to fight dirty but I said, 'No, Mr. Stark, good guys fight fair. That's why the bad guys sometimes win: because we fight fair.' Three well-trained superheroes versus one very strong and untrained teen when he was leaving his high school is not playing fair. Not fair at all. I would really like some drugs now, don't get me wrong: I'm grateful for the dark but I would also like some chemicals."

The lights turned on suddenly and Peter sprung from the bed using an arm and his good leg to vomit in the corner, not wanting to puke on his bed. "Guys, we talked about this. How short is your memory? I warned you I was going to vomit if there was too much light." Looking at the vomit he said, "There is quite a lot of blood in my vomit. I'm not entirely surprised, but that's a lot of blood. More blood than should be in vomit, which is none, but more than is acceptable by any scale. It's also steaming because you put me in a meat locker." The lights turned off again and he said, "Thanks so kind of you." He hand-walked back to the bed, not wanting to put stress on his leg. He put the blanket over his head and said, "Don't mind me, I'm just blocking out the light from the porthole. Nice of you to give me a window but not helpful right now."

He didn't know when he fell asleep but he woke up, blanket still over his head. The cold was making him so tired and everything ached or hurt or was swollen. It was light outside now. Mr. Stark hadn't blown-up the weapon yet. If Mr. Stark had blown-up the weapon they would have handed Peter over by now. It was surprising to Peter but maybe the weapon was far away, so hidden it was hard for even Mr. Stark to get to. Captain America was standing outside the glass. There was a small hatch that he unlocked. He put a bag of chips, a packet of Oreos and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms through the slot along with a bottle of acetaminophen and one of naproxen and two sealed bottles of water. Peter limped over slowly, wanting the drugs.

"Wow, peanut butter M&Ms, it's like you know me." He counted out pills and swallowed a handful. Captain America raised an eyebrow. "I have a very high metabolism."

"How are you doing?" the man asked.

Peter smiled, "Seriously, you're gonna play good cop? Well, I'm in a room with a pile of my own bloody vomit because of the brutal concussion you gave me and I'm putting about a sixth of my weight on my leg, which you broke. So… not great. Though, upside: my vomit is actually frozen, so you can't smell it because it's so, so cold in here that fluid will freeze. How are you doing? How is your conscience? You're the Star Spangled Man Here to Fight for the American Way. I didn't know that beating up a person a fraction of your age and under half your size was the American way."

"You don't understand what's happening here."

"Totally possible," agreed Peter, "I mean, I'm only fifteen so I'm still naïve. Where's my grownup? I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to interrogate me without a grownup."

Captain America gave him a sad smile, "Y'know, Tony showed me the modified machete order too. I liked it a lot. I didn't have much of a reaction to the Ewoks because I was an adult. But I really liked it."

"O.M.G.," Peter said slowly, "did we just become best friends?" He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. And through the chips, he said, "Hint: we didn't."

"Peter," started Captain America. "I'm gonna get you a doctor."

"I refuse medical care. I categorically refuse to have a doctor touch me. I will go to a doctor when I leave here. I do not give you any form of permission to touch me. I have sharp teeth and I will bite if I have to. Kid's teeth are really sharp, they get blunt over the years, I got my last new tooth just three years ago. They say it only takes the same bite force to take off a finger as it does to eat a raw carrot. I will take chunks of any person who tries to touch me. I don't trust you at all. I refuse medical care. You want to pretend you respect me? Don't touch me."

The man was wearing a hangdog expression but Peter didn't care about hurting Captain America's feelings when his leg was broken. "Peter," the man said again.

"What's your justification here?" Peter interrupted. "Mr. Stark has had a weapon completely hidden for twelve years and you want it? It's clearly well protected if you're only now finding out about it. It's not that it's unsecured, it's obviously well-hidden. It exists but you have no idea where. So why does S.H.I.E.L.D. want it and, possibly more important for you specifically, why are you helping them? Because it was orders and you're a good little soldier? Before you say yes, you should know that while you were in the ice a whole bunch of Nazis tried to claim they were just following orders when gassing Jewish people. So, maybe that's not a justification you want to follow. So what's it gonna be? Dealer's choice."

The man sighed and said, "All you need to do is tell us where it is."

"Istanbul," said Peter. He took a breath, "Was once Constantinople. Wait, when you were alive, was it still New Amsterdam because New Amsterdam is a much cooler name than New York, am I right? I am. It's way cooler. Put They Might Be Giants on your list: cool band with fun music." He emptied the M&Ms into his mouth and through chewing he said, "What our plan for the bathroom, because I kinda need to pee. Am I using the bottle when I get desperate, and if so, what corner isn't covered by the cameras? No one has seen me naked since I was a baby and I don't really want S.H.I.E.L.D. to be the first people to see my penis in this decade. Y'know? Call me a prude but I'm sure the cameras are recording and then, as well as illegal imprisonment, you'll have child pornography on your hands. Because, again, you broke the leg of a child and then gave him a concussion before imprisoning him illegally. People looking at my penis is not acceptable. But seriously, putting aside the concern about my bladder, what is your legal justification here?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has jurisdiction over illegal genetic mutants," said Captain America.

"Illegal genetic mutants?" repeated Peter, "I was exposed to radiation that caused changes in gene expression. So were you and Dr. Banner. If you weren't famous or useful, would you be in this cage instead of me?" He shook his head. "I'm every bit as normal and as screwed up as you two. But I'm the fifteen-year-old in a cell. Get me an answer on the bathroom." He meant to turn back to his bed but his bad leg gave out, so he crawled, holding his bad leg up. He pulled himself up onto the cot. Turning he saw Captain America was still there, looking sad. "You broke my leg, stop looking sad: I'm the one who is going to be left with a limp. You get to walk away all blond and healthy and pretty. You broke my tibia and fibula I heal fast: this is never gonna be totally fixed. You have lumbered a fifteen-year-old with a lifelong limp. You broke my leg with the most second most recognizable symbol of America in the world, second only to the flag. You broke my leg with freedom. Bathroom: figure it out."

His leg felt better when wrapped in the blanket. He wasn't sure if it was the warmth or the pressure. The wall was too cold to lean against so he went to his back keeping his leg raised to try and cut the swelling down. It hurt. Everything hurt. He wanted May. He wanted someone to fuss over him with soup. He wanted to be warm and not in pain and he was so hungry. "MREs, guys, a friend of mine camps: there is soup and it's warm and comforting. MREs. You're keeping an injured fifteen-year-old in a cold room. I'm not telling you anything. All you've got is that Captain America's snacks didn't put a dent in how hungry I am and I'm cold. A warm meal might loosen my lips. Reykjavik… is a cool name for a city. Maybe that's where Mr. Stark's weapon is… My poor leg. If you just let me go, I won't tell anyone." He sighed then he said, "Dresden… when I first heard about the Dresden Dolls, I didn't know that Dresden dolls were a thing. So I was just thinking about World War Two and I was like, 'Wow, guys, why not just call yourself the Columbine Cuties?' Because it seemed super inappropriate to me. Did you know the guys who make South Park are from Columbine? It kinda makes sense. Have you seen the episode about Britney Spears? It wasn't funny, it was just mean. I get that they speak truth to power and make fun of people but she was having a really hard time when they made that episode and it wasn't cool. She needed kindness then, now if they made it now it would be funny. Everyone needs kindness sometimes. I'm in a freezing cold cell, an MRE with those little heaters would be a kindness. And I know you've looked me up and know that I'm a science wiz but you could have science people watch me the whole time. I wouldn't mess with it. I would cook the meal and then keep the heater on my leg while it was warm and then put it back through the hatch the minute it was cool: I promise. I'm not gonna tell you where it is so, please, I'm just a bartering chip with Mr. Stark. Let me have a heating pack for my leg: it hurts so bad and I'm so cold. And can I just say? You've kept a fifteen-year-old away from his home, in a freezing cold room with two broken bones and a concussion for over fifteen hours. If I was gonna break, I would have done it by now. Intercourse is a hilariously named town, maybe that's where Mr. Stark's weapon is, or Blue Ball. Or Accident, Maryland." He sighed, "I'm so cold. And the bathroom question is getting more and more pressing." He finished the first bottle of water and looked at the second. "I'm still thirsty, but I want to pee. I don't want my penis on camera. If I'm really not leaving this room, let me know where I can whip it out without making kiddy porn. I don't consent. I want my private parts to be private." A few minutes later eight armed guards appeared. "S'up?"

"We're going to escort you to the bathroom."

"Cool, I'm going to have to use the walls to get there. You gonna freak out when I touch the wall? Because one of my legs is near useless." They said nothing, which he took as permission. Once he got to the door he realized that even this was going to suck. But it was so, so much warmer than his horrible cell. He walked with one hand glued to the wall, swinging his broken leg without putting weight on it. It took a while to find a rhythm as they guided him to a bathroom. There was a urinal and a toilet stall that had no door. That was a horror for later. Looking at the hinges, Peter thought the door had been removed specifically because of him. He was touched. He leaned on the wall with his hand over the urinal and said, "Seriously, guys, can you run some water or something? It's not that I have a shy bladder but there are eight of you, with guns." They didn't make a move so Peter gritted his teeth and tried to ignore them because he really had to pee. He thought of Niagara and days on the Jersey shore and once his bladder got the message, he couldn't stop peeing. Finally, he tucked himself away and went toward the sink but was blocked, "I'm not allowed to wash my hands?"

"We know your strength: you could break the faucet and use it as a bludgeon," said one of the guards.

"There are eight of you, with guns. I have a broken leg. Are you seriously not going to let me wash my hands?" he asked, some looked away, embarrassed. "If you're feeling ashamed and can't meet the eye of the kid you're holding as a prisoner, it's time to brush off your resume and talk to your priest."

A few of the rougher ones gestured with their guns and Peter moved to exit. His leg hurt; it hurt so badly. He walked slowly, in part because of his leg but also because it was fifty degrees warmer out here. He didn't want to go back into that freezing room. The frozen vomit was gone. There were two new bottles of water on the bed and a sealed wet-nap. He wiped off his hands. He sniffed himself, he reeked. He'd fought hard and now he smelled of stale stress and fear sweat. He folded the wet-nap and put his hand under his shirts, wiping at his armpits. He drank a bottle of water. Then aloud, he went through the periodic table. Then he sang every They Might Be Giants song he could remember. Then the Big Bang Theory theme tune — with the extra verses. It got dark outside. It got light again. He had caved and drank the water. He was thirsty. But now he had to pee again. He tried to ignore it. Not thinking about it was not working. It was like not thinking of a white bear — once you think about it you can't not think of it. He sang every Avril Lavigne song he could think of. It was a shamefully high number. Aunt May liked her when Peter was little. Her music had been formative.

They did the fun light trick twice more, both times the amount of blood in his vomit was worrying. He sang the Ramones' greatest hits followed by a ton of Fall Out Boy. It was dark outside his porthole when the guards came and the trip to the bathroom was as humiliating as it had been before. When he came back, the vomit was gone again and Captain America was standing by the glass. Peter got pushed into his cell. Captain America put an MRE, a heater, four bottles of water and a wet-nap through the hatch. Peter took the wet-nap and said, "Do you know why you're giving me a wet-nap? It's because I'm not allowed to wash my hands in the bathroom because I might make it a weapon. I've peed in front of eight armed guards twice now. I said it before and I'll say it again, let the record show I do not consent to anything that has happened here. I do not consent to having grown men watching me pee. It's degrading and super pervy." He took the things back to his bed, walking on one foot and one hand, grateful for his extreme flexibility. He followed the instructions on the box and the heater got so delightfully hot, he rested it on his leg.

"Those can burn," Captain America warned him.

"I have been sitting in a freezing room for three days, I am using it to heat my healing bones. I don't care if it burns. I don't care. Every time I vomit, because you gave me a concussion and your organization has been purposefully using the light to induce vomiting, the puke freezes on the floor in here. It's literally freezing."

"Four days," corrected Captain America.

Peter huffed a laugh. "Four days. Three induced rounds of vomit, two bathroom breaks, two meals. Obama talked about closing Gitmo, was he aware that this place existed?"

"This isn't S.H.I.E.L.D.," Captain America said. "This isn't what they're like. Fury, he wants to protect people, but he was trained to make tough decisions, and that's what he does. He doesn't… he doesn't have time to get too emotional, and sometimes the bigger picture is the only thing he can see, it's what he has to see. And unfortunately, it's not pretty, it's never pretty. What you're seeing, what you were introduced to, it's the ugly side, it's the part not everyone wants to think about. But, it's not what we stand for; doing things this way, it's left up to very few people and I just wish that your first time being here was under better circumstances. People here respect you, people who have seen what you can do, they're impressed. You have a lot of skill. If it wasn't for this, you would have been brought in as a great alley. I think Fury wanted to help train you, to give you mentors in S.H.I.E.L.D., our technology too."

"This isn't what you stand for?" repeated Peter with a laugh. "This isn't how you operate? You have a damaged fifteen-year-old in a subfreezing cage. After this meal, I will have eaten two thousand calories in a time window where I would normally have eaten thirty-two thousand. This is exactly who you are. This is exactly what you're like: you're doing it. And I'm not talking about S.H.I.E.L.D. or Fury I'm talking about you, Captain America, you look all sad but you're not the victim and you can't make me forgive you by assuring me you don't want this. You aren't a witness you are an active participant in the hell I'm living in. And you're saying no hard feelings? Nope: all the hard feelings. And, as for saying that you wish my first time had been better, I wish that there had never been a first time. I wish that I had never had any contact with you and never would again. As for allies and mentoring, is that supposed to be flattering? You're all super impressed with me?" He put on a mock star struck voice, "Gee wiz, Cap, y'mean it? I could grow up to be a real live agent and brutally abduct kids from their schools and hold them captive?" He dropped the tone and said, "Hard pass."

He laughed at the look on the man's face. "You live up to the blond stereotype don't you? You don't see what's happening here. Let me break it down for you. If I ever get out of here alive — and that's a big if — this hell will never end. You know who I am now. Anytime you want something all you have to do is ask me to jump and I'll say how high. Because you're a sick, sick organization who hold a fifteen-year-old hostage. So you'll say, 'How's your aunt?' and there's the threat because if you can do this to me, what will you do to her?"

The man opened his mouth and Peter said, "Don't even think of denying it. You have me over a barrel and I will never get away." His meal was warm and he ate it hungrily, keeping the heater on his leg. "But, hey, here's one comfort. I'm not a kid anymore. You're not holding a child captive. I was, I was, when you grabbed me. But you took the scraps of my childhood. When you're a teen superhero it's really scary. You see horrible things, disturbing acts of violence but you comfort yourself looking up to amazing superheroes. You just want to grow up to be like them and if that means seeing horrible things, well, so be it. I had all the Avenger swag — the action figures, the posters, the t-shirts; growing up I had the dress up costumes. And then, Black Widow, Falcon and Captain America hurt me. Captain America used his beautiful shield to break my leg. I will never be you. I am a better person than you are. Heroes don't do what you're doing. And Iron Man, amazing Iron Man. He bought my affection with a beautiful suit and kind words. He told me he cared about me. And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He had me and my allegiance with a few smiles and acts of kindness. When you kidnapped me, I stayed silent for his sake. I knew he would destroy the weapon and send you a video, get me released by saying no one could have it. I know he took a lot of pride in its creation and he didn't want to blow it up. But, of course, he would destroy it to protect someone he cared about. He would. Four days ago, before this never-ending cold and my poor leg and my concussion and peeing in front of armed guards, I was a kid, but all the innocence is gone. And, I think you should have kidnapped Pepper — she's a way better bargaining chip — because he cares about her. And obviously, that weapon is more important than me to him. When you kidnapped me, I kept my silence for him. Now? S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil, straight up evil. You say you won't use it but I don't believe you for even a second. If you're willing to keep me here — in this tiny freezing room with all these injuries and so little food — to get it, you're absolutely hitting the big red button when you get it. My very adult eyes are now wide-open. And if you think I'm wrong, then be glad you're pretty because you're the biggest idiot I've ever met. My uncle, he used to say this thing that made me laugh. The obscenity made me laugh because my family never swears but he used to say, 'Y'can't piss on me and say it's raining.' This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for. And either, this is who you are or you are their mindless lackey. They will use that weapon and my life is over. You own my life."

He had finished his meal and the heater had gone cold. He limped back to the hatch and put it through the hole. "When they send down a meal for me in two days, have someone silent bring it."

The next day he saw no one. He had to pee again and aloud he said, "I know I'm about twenty-four hours early for my bathroom break but your choice is sending guards or me wetting myself." The guards came, he didn't talk to them. Back in his cell, there was a couple of new bottles of water and a wet-nap.

On day six he was not fed. They did the light thing twice. There wasn't much to vomit so it was just bile and blood. He didn't speak. He sat silent, rubbing his leg. He took pain pills and tried to breathe through it. Worryingly, he could put all his weight on it. The bones had healed at totally the wrong angle but the leg could support his weight. He limped when he tried to walk, it hurt his hip.

Early on day seven, Fury walked down and looked at him wordlessly. "You don't know where the weapon is. Tokyo or Timbuktu — you have no idea. I agree with you, Tony Stark values his weapon over you. And you're right, we do own your life now. The Avengers are planning on breaking you out. Your guilt trip worked on Steve. There's a super-secret rescue mission that I know nothing about. Tomorrow, when you're sitting with Tony Stark, you're going to ask him where the weapon is. And you're going to be wearing an earbud, so I will hear it. And then you can safely go home to Aunt May at 20 Ingram Street. Do you understand?" Peter nodded and the man put a little earbud and a vending machine pack of Nutter Butters through the hatch. Peter put it in his ear and then limped back to his bed. He resented the man for saying Timbuktu, that was a fun city name and Peter hadn't thought to use it in his rants. Everything else was numb.

He waited. He waited. He waited. They took him to the bathroom. It went dark, it went light. There was an explosion that rocked the boat there was fighting, shouting. Then Black Widow was there, blood on her face, knocking out his guards. He wasn't supposed to know about the rescue mission so he shrank back against the so, so, so cold walls. She entered the cell and he said, "Wait, okay, wait, hold on," holding out his arms as though to fend her off.

"Be quiet and follow me. We're breaking you out."

"We, who is we?" he asked.

"Me, Steve, Tony and Clint, now — seriously — we have to get moving." He tried to follow her but she was so fast. There were knocked out S.H.I.E.L.D. agents everywhere and he limped to keep up.

His leg screamed; this was farther than he had walked in over a week. "You're going too fast," he whispered.

She slowed a little and eyed his gait, "I thought you were faking."

"Your buddy broke both the bones in my lower leg. Nothing was fake." He did his best to keep up. On deck, the Avengers seemed to be holding their own against the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

She pointed at a quinjet with the back open. "Go."

She fell into fighting, maybe trying to give him cover. He did his best to run, it was lumbering and slow and he saw Clint and Captain America getting into the plane. He saw Widow running in and getting into the pilot seat. He wasn't going to make it. He just wasn't. Then a metal arm was around his waist and he was moved into a bridal carry. Peter gasped and Mr. Stark said, "Relax, you kind of looked like a lost puppy down there." He laughed at his own witticism. Then he dropped Peter, literally, Peter screamed as he landed on his bad leg.

"Natasha, pull up now," Captain America yelled.

Peter slid across the floor as they launched. He screamed again as he hit the other wall. Mr. Stark had opened his faceplate and raised an eyebrow. "Y'startled there, Spidey?"

"I hit my bad leg," Peter. He pulled himself up into a seat.

"Where are we going?" asked Widow.

"Well, I need to get to the Xavier School in Westchester," said Peter. "And I need you to call May and tell her to meet me there." He sighed, "And call Dr. Hank McCoy and tell him that I need surgery because my poor leg is badly broken. Tell him my real name, tell him Aunt May is coming. Tell him she doesn't know yet about Spidey, and I want to tell her myself. Tell him that on top of my poor, poor leg I have a pretty bad concussion and that I completely lost a day in captivity. Tell him I'm also badly undernourished. Tell him I've had two thousand one hundred and eighty calories over eight days and that I usually eat eight thousand a day and that I lost a lot of weight. Tell him that I understand he has to perform surgery on my leg but I gotta see May first." He looked around, none of them had moved. "Someone call, right now. Call him and tell him." Clint pulled out his phone, good ol' Clint.

"What?" said Tony. "How did this happen?"

"Have you been asleep for the last eight days? I was beaten and kidnapped," said Peter.

"I didn't think they would hurt a kid," said Mr. Stark.

"So you thought they were too evil to have your weapon but not evil enough to hurt me?" He sighed, "At first I really thought you would save me. I thought you would destroy the weapon and send them proof. I really believed that. In the first few hours, I thought maybe you were talking through it. By day two, I thought it must be really far away and you had to travel to get to it. By three I was worried and by day four, I knew it mattered to you more than I did. I was so cold, and so hungry and in so much pain." Staring at the man he said, "Why didn't you destroy it?"

The man said, "I worked so hard on it, it took six months, I was so proud."

Peter nodded. "My mom worked really hard to make me too, it took her nine months to build me, she was proud." He pulled up his sweats and pulled his ruined jeans back to show his monstrously deformed leg. "She wouldn't be very proud of that. I thought genuinely I mattered to you but you left me there. Where is it, Mr. Stark? Because the whole time I was there, I just kept pretending I knew. I was pretty sure it was that knowledge that was keeping me alive. I think I'm owed that much. Where is a weapon you felt was much more important than a boy you called your protégé?"

"I moved into the subbasement of the Tower. It was in a secure location but I thought it was more actively defendable in the Tower."

Peter felt the earbud vibrate: message received.

"What the hell happened to your leg?" asked Mr. Stark.

"Cap's shield happened to it," said Peter. "Such big heroes," he said. "What was your lie to Aunt May? How did you explain away my kidnapping?"

"Stark Science Retreat. I bought you three weeks with a possible extension."

"Did you tell school?" said Peter.

"I sent them a beautiful brochure about it."

"Cool, cool, call my principal right now and tell him that I am awesome and you're keeping me an extra month on top of that. Ask him to send all my homework and tests to my email. Tell him that you'll proctor my tests yourself. I can't go back to school until my leg is all better." He waited for Tony to move and he said, "I've had a rough week, call my school, Mr. Stark. You're not actually going to proctor my tests: I don't cheat."

Tony pulled out a phone and started a quiet conversation and Peter thought of something, "Clint, call Dr. McCoy back, tell him that all five times I vomited because of my concussion there was a lot of blood in my vomit. I don't know how much blood is acceptable, but I would classify it as enough to be a worry."

Clint did as asked and after he hung up he said, "Are you sure you want me to call Aunt May?"

"Yes."

"It's just, you've never told her."

"When Mr. Stark gave me my suit he said that I shouldn't be handling it by myself and I needed a grownup. I agree. I need a grown-up who cares about me so I'm reading Aunt May in. I've had to be my own advocate for eight days — demanding painkillers, demanding food they couldn't mess with, demanding and threatening them into keeping their hands off me. I never got the sweatshirt I wanted. I had to be in charge and now I have to have surgery — I want Aunt May calling the shots."

Clint called and kept his voice light as he explained that Peter had broken his leg at science camp and might need surgery. He spoke with a smile in his voice that wasn't on his face. He asked May to bring Peter's favorite PJs. He added, "He might have to stay at the Xavier School for a couple of days, the doctor best suited to help his injury has a set up there. So bring some clothes for both of you and maybe a toy or two, a Gameboy or whatever kids have these days." He listened to something she said and gave a warm laugh that, again, was only in his voice, "Yes, I'm sure he would like his Wicket the Ewok… yes, he'll be okay but he needs TLC." He made his goodbyes and then said, "An Ewok toy?"

"My mom got him for me," said Peter. Mr. Stark got off the phone and Peter took a deep breath, and said, "Mr. Stark, your Spider-Man suit was in my backpack when Widow, Captain America and Falcon beat me up, drugged me and kidnapped me. So, you can get it back from them. And then you can keep it. I don't want your suit. Actually, once I get off this plane, I don't ever want to see any of you again. You're fine, Clint, I'm not angry at you. But the rest of you, I could very happily die without ever seeing you again."

They started to land and Mr. Stark's phone made a loud urgent siren noise. He answered and listened, going pale. He hung up saying, "Peter, what did you do?"

Peter calmly took the earbud out as they landed and said, "I rescued Aunt May. Fury said that once he knew where the weapon was, I would be safe to go home to Aunt May at 20 Ingram Street. He said my address, just dropped it into the conversation so casually. When you someone you love is in danger from an evil government organization, you save them. Or rather, I do, you don't, Mr. Stark, you leave them injured, vomiting and hungry in a freezing cold cell. S.H.I.E.L.D. owns me now. Because all of you, you're beautiful suit and gleaming shield and stalking and drugs, they know everything. If you ever see my smiling at you; if I ever ask to work with you, know that they aren't my words: Director Fury will be pulling my strings thanks to all of you." He held out the earbud to Captain America. "You can give that back to your boss." The man looked shocked and Peter said, "Wow, he really reads you into nothing, does he?"

"Peter," said Mr. Stark sounding angry and disappointed all at once.

"My life is over. It's all over. I traded it for your suit. I'm sure you dropped a bug on the ship. I'm sure you were both a big conquering hero, coming to rescue your sidekick, and winning a war game at the same time. God forbid you do something that doesn't benefit you. Before you judge me, watch the security footage of my cell for the last eight days. See if you can get the bathroom footage too. Then, by all means — if you feel entitled — go ahead and keep playing the good guy. And when S.H.I.E.L.D. uses that weapon, and they will, feel free to blame me. But, remember who built it and who valued it over a human life. Watch the footage — enjoy it — and then you keep believing that I'm the problem and you're the victim." He hit the button to open the back and then slowly, slowly limped out and across the drive to knock at the front door. Ororo Munroe opened it as the Avengers took off. He forced himself to smile, "Hi, Ms. Munroe, Dr. McCoy is expecting me."

She nodded and let him in. She didn't ask any questions, "Just wait here for a sec."

He nodded. It was a beautiful house. He was acutely aware of how disgusting he was. He hadn't bathed, brushed his teeth or hair or even washed his face or hands in eight days. He definitely smelled. A man in a wheelchair came out and he said, "Hello, can I help you?"

"I'm Peter, Professor Xavier, I'm here for Dr. McCoy's help." The man held out a hand and Peter said, "Your suit is beautiful and I smell."

"Are you alright?" asked the man.

"Aren't you a mind reader?" asked Peter, "I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you?"

"I avoid reading people's minds whenever possible."

"I'm not okay," said Peter, "not even a little okay but my aunt is coming and Dr. McCoy can help."

"What's Dr. McCoy going to be helping you with, exactly?"

Before he had to answer Dr. McCoy came in and smiled at him, "Hey there, kid, Clint gave me a very weird list of problems. What happened to you?"

Peter said, "Is my aunt here, yet?"

"No, a quinjet is faster than a car. Where is she coming from?"

"Queens."

"She's probably twenty minutes out."

"I was kidnapped and held captive for eight days and I didn't cry, not one single tear but if I start talking about it I'm gonna. So can we wait? I have a concussion, I've had it for eight days. My head hurts all the time. And both the bones in my lower leg got broken and healed wrong. I'm very hungry but I can't eat if you're going to do surgery." He pulled the sweats up and his tattered jeans revealed the damage to his leg. "I had to rip my jeans because of the swelling. My rate of healing… I think they fully healed. I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy, I couldn't go to a normal doctor."

"Don't apologize, Peter, don't even think of apologizing. You did exactly the right thing. I'm pleased you're here. You're safe, you're welcome. I promise: you're safe now. I think you do need surgery but I think it won't be today. What we need is some painkillers, some food and a bath. Once your aunt gets here, we can do the full medical and piece together a plan. Do you want to start on food or hygiene? It's wholly up to you."

"They wouldn't let me wash my hands after I peed, they said I was too strong and I would break off the faucet to use it as a weapon. They kept eight heavily armed guards on me in the bathroom and I couldn't bring myself to use anything other than the urinal and I just." It was humiliating.

"Okay, let's find you a bathroom," said Dr. McCoy. He smiled, "Are you okay with me picking you up?"

"At this point: if it doesn't hurt, isn't terrifying or debasing, I'm good with whatever." At almost six feet tall, the blue man was made of solid muscle and he picked Peter up with up with incredible gentleness.

"Peter and his aunt will be staying for at least a week," said Dr. McCoy. "Blue room and peach?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be fine," agreed Professor Xavier.

"Thank you, Professor," said Peter.

"I have no idea who you are. I have no idea why you and Hank agree that he is the best doctor for you. What I do know is that Hank has unimpeachable judgment. He said that you should be here and so you are very welcome for as long as you like."

"Thank you," said Peter.

Dr. McCoy carried him upstairs and into a blue bedroom. He said, "This is May's room. It's an old house so some of the rooms are railroad style." He opened a door and there was a peach bedroom, "You can have the other one if you like but this one's got a better bathtub. You shouldn't try to shower."

Peter said, "It's gonna sound really stupid, but I'd rather not be blocked in behind her room. I don't want to be so far from an exit. I just," he took a ragged breath.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to explain it," said Dr. McCoy. He brought Peter back into the blue room and put him down in the bathroom. There was a washcloth and a hand towel and the man said, "There's a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the medicine cabinet I'm going to go get you towels and shampoo and stuff."

He left and Peter locked the door. He was alone in a bathroom with a locked door. Peter had never thought that would feel remarkable. He peeled off his sweats, jeans and boxers and saw more bruises than he expected. He was skin and bones, almost literally. He hadn't actually seen himself naked since they had beaten him at school. He relieved himself and took off his shirts, still sitting on the toilet. He was one solid bruise, he had a hard time finding unmarred skin and he was so, brutally, abnormally, skinny. He stood slowly to brush his teeth. He noticed the mirror above the sink and saw he looked exhausted and scarily gaunt. A knock at the door made him jump. "Peter, I got you towels and toiletries but we need to talk for a sec."

He said, "I'm mostly naked but you have to see it anyway and my clothes reek."

"It's okay," said Dr. McCoy, "you're safe."

Peter unlocked and opened the door. The man took in his body and looked so sad. "Oh, kid, I'm gonna do anything I can to help you. I got you some PJs from a kid here with your build... well, your usual build. Is your aunt bringing you some of your own clothes?" Peter nodded, "That's good. Having your own clean clothes is a comfort." Peter used the wall as a crutch to get to the bed without putting weight on his leg. "What are we telling your aunt?" asked Dr. McCoy, sitting next to him.

"Everything, everything," said Peter vehemently. "I can't keep it a secret anymore. I can't."

Dr. McCoy nodded, "Good, I think that's a good choice. What are we telling Charles? Because he is a mighty ally and a good man. I think that when you tell me and May what happened, Charles should be there. But it's up to you. I'm not going to force you to do anything."

Peter thought and then he said, "The very worst people know my real identity. Maybe it's okay to tell a few good guys."

"You came on a quinjet, Peter, couldn't Tony Stark have gotten you good medical care? I didn't know your name before, why did you pick me? Why not Dr. Cho?"

"I'm sorry," said Peter hanging his head.

"Hey, I told you before: no apologizing. I wasn't complaining, just trying to figure it out."

"If Mr. Stark died of a heart attack tonight I would not feel a single twinge of sadness. I wanted your help, specifically yours."

Dr. McCoy looked shocked, "I thought you were his apprentice — the heir apparent."

"I did too, but the last eight days… he could have rescued me at any time and he left me. And I don't mean that in a sulky childish way, that he let me down by not rescuing me, I mean he literally had it in his power to stop it. All he had to do was cry uncle and they woulda let me go. He left me there. You don't do that to someone you care about… you don't do that to someone you hate. You don't do that to anyone but Hitler. So, no, if the Tower burned down tomorrow while Clint and Bruce were out for a walk, the world would be a better place."

"So we're also getting rid of the Widow, Captain America and Falcon?" asked Hank.

"Yeah," said Peter.

"Okay, do you want to bathe now or eat something?"

"I'm so hungry but I don't want May to see me this way. At least if I'm clean, there will be a false air or normality about me."

"Okay, why does she think she's coming?"

"Clint told her I broke my leg at a Stark Science Retreat and that it's bad enough to need surgery."

"It does need surgery, but first we're going to feed you, drug you to the hilt, see what we can do about the concussion and get you at least some sleep. You might not even have surgery tomorrow. But I will fix it. And you're not in captivity now. I know it's scary but we have a beautiful garden and a great library and our students are nice. They're used to people being shell-shocked when they come here so they aren't going to dig into anything, they'll just be friendly and won't ask questions."

Peter nodded, "I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Okay, and then how do grilled cheese sandwiches sound?"

"Food of the gods," replied Peter, using the wall to get back to the bathroom, Dr. McCoy brought his towels and the PJs along with deodorant, shampoo, conditioner and body wash to him.

"Take as long as you want: you deserve a soak."

Peter turned on the taps, feeling the water temperature with his hand. "I don't want to keep May waiting, she'll be freaked out about my being at the mutant school. She's not a bigot. She's really disgusted by the talk about registration. But she doesn't know anything about Spider-Man so she's going to worry that maybe I have the gene and it suddenly manifested and she'll be worried it hurt. I heard it can hurt if you get it all at once."

"Mine was gradual, I was always visibly a mutant but the blue, and the fur, and the ears and teeth that was actually a lab accident."

"No kidding? You, me and Bruce Banner: all lab accidents. One x gene and two cases of radiation poisoning that didn't end in hair and tooth loss."

"Thank goodness: you have a cute smile, kid, someday soon you're gonna be a heartbreaker."

Peter just smiled and said, "And you're a very handsome man." Dr. McCoy laughed and closed the door. Peter went to lock it and then took off his boxers. He climbed into the tub with the water still running and washed — trying not to press on any bruises but that was pointless as he was one solid injury. He washed his hair three times and gently, gently, gently washed everywhere. He had to drain and refill the tub once because the water had gone gray and smelled. He dried himself with the soft, fluffy towels and put on the comfy PJs.

He walked down the stairs slowly and as he approached the bottom Professor Xavier appeared. "Peter, we would have helped you."

"I'm okay as long as I can touch a wall and, now that I'm not filthy, I don't feel bad about touching it."

The man gave him a gentle smile, "Your aunt is here. She is very confused. As am I. You don't have to tell me; Hank's belief in you is enough, but I would like to help you."

"Yeah," said Peter, "okay. But it's kind of a long story."

"I have all the time in the world for young mutants."

"It's not a mutation, it's radiation and altered gene expression," said Peter.

The man nodded, "I have all the time in the world for young people the world discards for being different." Not trusting his voice Peter just nodded. "They're in the kitchen. Hank commandeered the stove and has already informed the staff that they have to get takeout for dinner for our students because no one is allowed inside."

"Sorry," said Peter.

"Don't be. The kids view Chinese as a treat."

"It's expensive to get a whole school takeout," said Peter.

"I'm a billionaire and I don't fund this school all by myself. When you got here, Hank told you not to apologize. Consider it the house rule: no more apologizing unless you do something malicious on purpose."

"I'm not generally a malicious person. And I have a problem with acting purposefully."

The man laughed as they started to move toward the kitchen. He looked at Peter's hand on the wall and said, "How is that helping you so much?"

"I'm sticking to the wall," said Peter.

He saw the moment of realization in the other man's face, "Spider-Man. That's how you and Hank know each other."

"I'm about to break that news to May," said Peter. He took a breath as the man reached for a door, knowing that she was behind it. She looked up from a cup of coffee and gasped.

"Peter, honey, what happened?"

"It's a really long story," he limped without the wall to a seat next to her and pulled her in for a hug. Speaking into her neck he said, "I missed you so much, May, and I was so scared. I missed you so much." He let himself relax into her. "I'm really sorry."

He pulled back and she cradled his face, "You're skin and bones and you look like death. What happened in a week?"

"Kidnapping and imprisonment?" he said it as half a question. "Before you freak out, you should know, this story is gonna get worse so maybe ration out your freak out quota."

"You were at science camp," she said.

"You should know that Mr. Stark lies a lot on my behalf."

"There was a brochure," said May.

"He likes art projects," said Peter.

"I'm gonna kill him, whatever is happening: I'm going to kill him."

"Don't worry, May, he's never coming near me again. I'm done with him and he would rather cut my face off with a rusty knife than hear another word out of my mouth. He's done."

Dr. McCoy put a plate down in front of him with three grilled cheese sandwiches, scrambled eggs and bacon. "When you finish this, we'll start on the second course. You want a Coke?" Peter nodded and Dr. McCoy handed him a soda and the exact same drugs he had gotten on the ship — acetaminophen and naproxen. "These are to tide you over until I get a better look. Only take two pills or each. Those will wear off in two hours max. Why don't you start at the very beginning, get everyone on the same page, and then tell us about the last eight days?" Peter nodded again.

The food was amazing. Between bites of pure heaven, he said, "Remember, nine months ago, when my class went on that field trip to Oscorp?"

"I remember," she nodded.

"They had these totally awesome spiders. Genetically engineered and exposed to radiation, they could do the most amazing moves. They were beautiful to watch. I love spiders, so, so much. So I hung back, and I know I shouldn't have. I've always been a rule follower but I was a spider-loving fourteen-year-old science geek and I did something really stupid. I hung back from the tour group just so I could get a closer look. And Ned was there and he was freaking out because we shoulda stayed with the group and we were gonna get in trouble. And he's clumsy, and he gesticulates a lot when he is stressed out. And he knocked the lid off one of the tanks. So I quickly put on the lid — no harm no foul — and said we should catch up to the group and then I felt this really sharp pinch. And I looked down and saw this spider biting me and I panicked and slapped it dead and told Ned we should move. He was freaking out too much to notice the bite. We got back to the tour group and I felt queasy but I wrote it off as just being guilty for killing such a beautiful spider that probably cost millions of dollars in research. And remember I got weird after that? I was twitchy, and irritated, and moody and hungry?" she nodded. "It wasn't teenage angst. I got superpowers, May, like healing, and all of my senses ramped up, and I was super strong, and super flexible, and coordinated, and I stopped needing my glasses and I could stick to surfaces. I broke the sink, it wasn't just a loose old tap. I got stuck to it and then I panicked and pulled and it broke off in my hand. Sorry. And I broke curfew, freaking out and just walking around. And Ben came after me and he saw that bodega being robbed and he tried to stop it."

"Hey," said May. "No, no. You are not taking responsibility for that. Y'know how I met Uncle Ben?"

"He stopped that guy who snatched your purse."

"He didn't snatch it: he took it at knifepoint. Ben saw that knife and he still rushed after that guy to get a stranger's purse back to her. That was the man he was. And when the cops told me how he died I actually felt a fond irritation. Because if he was going to die before forty-five, that was how he was going to go out. That is not your fault. That was who he was. That is not on you. Ben took on a man with a gun despite the fact that bodegas have theft insurance. It wasn't you. No one is responsible but the man with the gun."

Peter nodded, trying to believe that. "But after that, I couldn't just do nothing. So I sewed a suit. And I made these awesome mechanized wrist thingys that sprayed a polymer I invented that was sticky and stretchy and I called them web shooters and I called myself Spider-Man. And I'm not like the Avengers or the Fantastic Four, I don't take on supervillains. And I'm not like the Defenders who are super violent. I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I know when it gets on the news it's me getting between a guy with a knife and a pregnant woman. And I know when it gets into the Bugle it's an inopportunely timed photo when I let go of my web to soon and for one second I looked like a moron falling from twelve stories up. I caught myself half a second later. But that's not the real picture. Eighty percent of my time is spent swinging around giving lost people directions, helping kids find their lost parents, helping people post lost dog posters over a wider area than they could on foot. I frequently grab cars that are about to crash but I'm really strong and really fast so it's not dangerous. It's the equivalent of an adult standing in front of one of those red and yellow Little Tikes cars. Then I give the drivers a very stern talking to about paying attention and road safety. And it is hilarious because they don't know the guy lecturing them has only ever driven with you in a parking lot and you kept your hand on the wheel the whole time.

"That's a normal night for me. Throw in a fire, maybe, I've gotten twenty-seven people, six cats, three dogs and one goldfish out of fires in the last seven and a half months. My suit is lined with Ove' Glove material. Once I breathed in wrong and coughed for like twenty minutes. That's it. Then there's like fifteen percent of my time devoted to muggings, car theft, bicycle theft, beatings, pimps, purse snatchers and loan sharks. That all leads to cops spouse's baking me cookies. I know every cop in Queens by name and Carl McAvoy's husband makes the best glazed lemon cookies in the universe and David Morris' wife makes amazing banana bread cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. They give me so many lectures, 'Citizen's arrests are awesome, Spidey, but don't become the vigilante the Bugle tries to paint you as.' They gave me a medal for having performed fifty citizen's arrests. They were joking, it's not real award because no one has ever gotten the medal before, but I kept it. Plus I give them, like, a million tip-offs. I love that ninety-five percent of Spider-Man. I love swinging, helping and being that guy. And then five percent is people like Scorpion and Vulture and Lizard being, like, total jerks and I have to duke it out with them. I don't like that part." May leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I love you, May."

"I love you too, Peter."

He let out a shaky breath, "Then, four months ago, I met Mr. Stark. I was in street clothes. He said he had been tracking me since the beginning. He hacked every CCTV camera in New York and ran an algorithm for my weight, height, gait and fluid movements. He gave me the most beautiful suit and said he wanted to be my mentor. He taught me more about hand-to-hand, which was useful. He said I needed a grownup ally, I agreed, he seemed to really care about me. I liked it. And when I needed cover, he provided it. May, there was never an internship. Not even for a second. In retrospect, I really shoulda questioned a guy who lied to a kid's parent to cover for them. That's not what responsible grownups do. A long time ago, he made a weapon, never used it, too dangerous: he locked it up. S.H.I.E.L.D. found out about it and said they could protect it and wouldn't use it. He said they were liars and sketchy and he was keeping it. He shoulda destroyed it — that's what a responsible adult woulda done. He warned me that they would target me as the weakest link. I thought I was prepared. I was told to go to the principal's office after school. That made no sense; I've never once been called to the principal's office. I am an honor roll student who is a member of four clubs. I don't get called to the principal's office. I knew it was a trap; I ducked out the back of the school. And then Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon beat me up behind my school." He teared up, "Captain America broke my leg, Aunt May, Captain America broke my leg. I had that poster of him and Iron Man up on my wall after the Chitauri invasion when I was a little kid. He broke my leg, Aunt May." He turned away from his food to bury his face in May's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and he pulled himself together. He turned back to his meal and looked at his plate so he didn't have to look at them. To buy time and gather himself, he shoved half a sandwich into his mouth, and took a moment to chew and swallow.

Back in control of his breathing, he told them all about the fight, about the shield biting into his leg, about the noise of his leg when Falcon dropped him, about the crack when his head his the ground, about Widow speaking in a comforting voice as she drugged him. He spared no detail of his incarceration — the cold, the lights, the humiliation, the two thousand one hundred and eighty calories he had eaten — one small bag of M&Ms, one and a half ounces of chips, six Oreos, six Nutter Butters and that one deliciously warm MRE with Skittles, and a cracker and a cheese spread and hot cocoa. "There was a sachet of coffee — it had eight calories and caffeine, and caffeine helps headaches so I drank it — so gross I don't know why you all pretend to like it."

He talked about using the heater for warmth. He broke down again for a moment and breathed through it. He talked about the bathroom and said, "I don't know why that was the worst, but it was, worse than the pain or the cold or seeing blood in my vomit. I have never been so humiliated as I was with eight armed men watching me pee and tell me I wasn't allowed to wash my hands." He looked at his clean hands.

"Torture comes in many, many forms," said Dr. McCoy very gently. "Humiliation is one of them. Society tells us to be ashamed of bodily functions, hormones and body changes tell teenagers to be ashamed of themselves and evolution tells us to fear the act of relieving ourselves because it's when we're most vulnerable to predators. What they did to you over the last eight days was torture and everyone has different pressure points; that hit yours the hardest."

He told them about the pain of healing and said, "Captain America offered me a doctor but I refused, stupid huh? My leg mighta been better if I had, but I just couldn't willingly let them touch me. I just didn't want to let them get near me. I was afraid they would trank me again and maybe put a tracker in me. Stupid, I coulda got this set."

Then it was May's turn and she said, "That's like a rape victim saying that their injuries might have been lessened if they hadn't tried to fight off their attacker. You did everything you could to protect yourself. Dr. McCoy is going to help you. You protected yourself."

"I was so scared the whole time. I was so scared, May. And being here and clean and warm with food?" He stopped speaking, trying to keep it together. He focused on eating his eggs. He told them about believing that Mr. Stark would destroy his weapon, right up until day four, he told them how hurt he felt when he realized that he didn't matter. "The stupid thing is, my first suit was fine. It was homemade but it suited its purpose. I should never have taken his stupid pretty suit. But I didn't know there would be these consequences… it's like getting into a sketchy van 'cause someone offers you good Nikes." He told them about the conversation with Captain America where the man proved he was a mindless lackey and had no idea what he was part of. He told them about Fury instantly living up to his prediction. He told them about the man citing Aunt May and their address.

He told them about Tony's shock at his health and said, "So, like, he thought they were evil enough to use the weapon and abduct a fifteen-year-old from his school but he also thought they would treat me nice. Did he think I was chained to a four poster bed, watching pay-per-view and eating takeout and bonbons?" He told them about his demanding the Avengers called May and Dr. McCoy. "No one was gonna take care of me, so I took care of myself." He told them about getting Tony to say where the weapon was. He told them about S.H.I.E.L.D. getting the weapon just as they landed and Tony's anger. "I know I should feel guilty about it, but you and I are safe for a little while and I got to take a bath and eat a hot meal I didn't think was drugged and I'm warm and I just don't care. S.H.I.E.L.D. owns me now. They know everything, my life is over."

Professor Xavier said, "Now, you listen to me, I have been teaching children for a very long time. Dr. McCoy was one of my first students when he was your age. There is one thing all children have in common: you need a grownup because you're children. You did nothing wrong. Tony should have destroyed that weapon over a decade ago. None of this is your fault and he failed you on so many levels. You saved yourself. You did nothing wrong. You protected yourself and May when he wouldn't."

"I thought he really cared about me," said Peter. He knew it made him sound childish and he tried not to cry but he couldn't help it.

"I don't know, I can't speak to how he feels what I can tell you is this, Dr. McCoy is going to do everything in his power to help you, the X-Men stand with you," said Professor Xavier, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. "They called you an illegal genetic mutant, well fine. But these genetic mutants stand with a kid whose genes kicked into overdrive because of a spider bite. S.H.I.E.L.D. does not own you. If there are two things they fear it's mutants and magic. Thank you, so much for letting me listen to your story, I know it was very hard for you. I think you should let me and Aunt May talk to Dr. Strange."

"The Sorcerer Supreme?" asked Peter, pulling himself together.

Professor Xavier nodded, "He was a jerk right up until he learned humility. He will not stand for S.H.I.E.L.D. having a slave. Between the two of us threatening S.H.I.E.L.D., they'll back down. We'll tell them that you have a mental password that will bring our combined forces down on them and they will not come near you. The password is actually a sentence: puppies grow into dogs that get old and die. I told you I don't look into other people's minds but that is a phrase that works as a call. I will find you, immediately. They won't touch you and, if they do, you'll have the X-Men and every sorcerer in America storming their castle walls."

"Really?" said Peter.

"Some of us actually protect young people and want their parents involved."

"I would appreciate that," said May. "Anything that makes my kid safer."

"Are you gonna let me be Spider-Man when I get better?" asked Peter her. "I'm going back to my old suit."

She sighed, "You have to obey your curfew, you have to give up that terrifying five percent but… you have to keep me in the loop. In three years, I don't get a legal say in your life, but don't lock me out. So you can keep ninety-five percent but you're at home for dinner and back home in PJs and in for the night with your homework done by nine PM."

"Deal," said Peter, "I hate the super villains. I'm all about just helping people."

Dr. McCoy took his plate and said, "Dessert or round two?"

"I know the Chinese food is for the students but I can smell chicken and broccoli."

Dr. McCoy smiled at him, "You can have Chinese. In fact, as your doctor, I'm prescribing you Chinese. May, are you sure you don't want anything?"

"I was eating at the hospital after my shift when Clint Barton called me," said May, "I'm fine."

"Hospital? asked Dr. McCoy.

"I'm a surgical nurse."

"Excellent, because, even before an x-ray, I think he needs an Ilizarov apparatus and that scares the hell out of most parents so having a nurse makes it so that we can discuss this calmly and make choices. We'll do a full medical check after he's not hungry anymore. I have a CT and an x-ray in my lab. But considering he is literally starving to death, this is our first priority before we can consider surgery."

Dr. McCoy left with Peter's plate and May said, "Can I please see your leg?" Peter pulled up the leg of his sweats and she gasped. "Captain America, I never thought I would see the results of his shield up close. I think I agree with Hank about the Ilizarov apparatus."

"I coulda taken him. I broke the handcuffs designed to withhold his strength. I coulda taken him. But it was him, Widow and Falcon. And they were at school. And it was Captain America. You don't hit Captain America: you dress up like him for Halloween and hang a replica of his shield on your wall. And when you make your post-apocalypse dream teams with your friends you call dips on him because he could kill zombies or survive the weird plague. You don't have to fight him after he breaks your leg. That's just unfair." She stroked his hair.

"None of this was fair," said Professor Xavier, "none of it. And I can't fix what happened. I'm sure your aunt and Hank can help with that. But I can tell you, right now, none of them will ever touch you again."

"Thanks, Professor Xavier."

"You can call me Charles, you know. You're not my student and you're a superhero. You don't have to give me the honorific, we're equals, call me Charles."

"Okay, thanks, Charles," said Peter.

The man smiled and said, "I'm going to go check on the kids and I'll reach out to Stephen Strange and see when he would be available to sit down for a conversation."

"Thank you, Charles," echoed May.

He left and Dr. McCoy came back with a plate piled with chicken and broccoli, a moo shu pancake with chicken and all the fixin's, rice and an egg roll. "You're a hero," said Peter.

"I've seen you eat enough times to know that first plate didn't fix anything," said Hank, handing him the plate. "One time I saw you inhale four burritos."

"They had shrimp, Dr. McCoy, shrimp burritos. I was gonna eat two even if I wasn't hungry and I was hungry so I had four."

"Eight thousand calories a day?" asked Dr. McCoy.

"I eat a lot of Pop Tarts, fries and nuts: fats and carbs," said Peter.

"I've always thought I was going crazy; you couldn't possibly get through as much food as was leaving the kitchen," said May with a smile.

"Sorry, May," said Peter, "I wasn't trying to gaslight you, I was just eating to not be hungry all the time."

"This makes so much more sense. I should join Costco."

"BJ's Wholesale is cheaper and they do these cases of two hundred hash brown patties. Ned has them in his freezer and I'm always jealous because his family does not get through them at the rate I know I could get through them."

May laughed, "Okay, honey, I'll get BJ's membership and you'll be swimming in hash browns."

"Awesome," said Peter. "I love hash browns. And your meatloaf. I know Ben wasn't a fan but I love it. And when I have meatloaf at other people's houses it doesn't taste right. They taste similar to each other but nothing like yours and yours is the correct one." Then he said, "I swear I'll stop talking about food soon but I was really hungry for a long time so it's what's on my mind even while eating really good chicken and broccoli."

"I'll make you a meatloaf when we get home but, until Dr. McCoy checks you out and we have a plan I'm not sure when we're gonna get home."

"Good point, May, I can write you a letter for FMLA if you need it for work."

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy."

"Please call me Hank. It always confused me that Spider-Man called me Dr. McCoy when everyone else was calling me Hank or Beast. I knew he was young but until today, I would have guessed college and now I know that he calls me Dr. McCoy because he's twelve."

"Fifteen," said Peter.

"Until you're actually willing to call me Hank, you're twelve."

"Fine, Hank… sounds weird."

"Get used to it because you're going to need rehab and you'll be in and out a lot."

"That's gonna suck. Mr. Stark bought me more time off school. They're gonna email all my homework assignments and tests. I only have five weeks of school left so I'll miss the end of the school year. Do you think they're going to get angry?"

"We'll talk to your school, tell them you had an accident at your science camp and that you're at a hospital. Why do you call a man who left you to S.H.I.E.L.D. 'Mr. Stark'? He deserves none of your respect."

"Because if I think about it too long I'll scream and calling him Mr. Stark makes it easier. Changing what I call him now would just force me to think about why there's been the change. And then I have to think about the fact that he left me there and then I have to think about there and then it goes back to the cold, and the bright lights and the hunger. So, he's Mr. Stark and this Chinese food was delicious. Thanks, Hank." He put his fork down on his empty plate. "I'm ready for your exam now."

"Hank, do you get special training to be a doctor for genetically different people? I'm not questioning your qualifications, just curious," said May.

"No, there is no course for that. I have PH.D.s in Biophysics, Biochemistry and Genetics and an MD in surgery. I do my best with each mutant."

"Hank's modest, May, he's the doctor who discovered the cure for the Legacy Virus. He's basically THE mutant doctor, like, people come from all over the world to see Hank. I demanded that the Avengers pointed the quinjet toward the best darn mutant doctor on Earth."

"Peter, don't overblow this," said Hank. "Dr. Cho is who superheroes go to."

"You're that Dr. Hank McCoy," said May with realization in her voice, "you saved potentially hundreds of thousands of lives with that cure."

The man smiled, looking away, embarrassed and Peter said, "You're going to operate on her kid in a private surgery in a house. She's worried and she should know you're the guy when it comes to people with bodies that are different from the norm."

Hank smiled and then said, "I'm the guy, May."

She smiled, "Good, good. Great, actually. Y'know, you don't act like the guy. And I mean that in the best way possible. The guy usually struts and has no time for patient care because he doesn't have to. They don't cook for their patients and ask them to be on first name basis. The guy is arrogant because he knows that he's the best."

Hank shrugged, "When you're blue and you weight four hundred pounds, no one normal sees you as the guy. I left my picture off of all the publications about the cure for Legacy because the normal people who were dying of it might have refused the cure because of my face. I'm the guy in our world but our world is very different than the one you're in. My patients have been treated like dirt by the other world. Their doctor cannot treat them like that. You heard that Peter was an enhanced person and you just kept listening and stayed next to him: that's pretty rare." He smiled at Peter, "Do you want me to carry you down to the basement?"

"I'm feeling up to wallcrawling, energy-wise, after the food. But I'm still dizzy and the pain pills are wearing thin so it might be better."

"I don't want you taking a tumble," Hank scooped him up. He led the way to his lab and said, "Can you stand for a moment? I want to weigh you so I can give you custom pain drugs."

"I can stand. It just hurts my hip, and it's hard to move but I can do it."

"Okay, kid, I am putting you down on the scale." Hank did and Peter saw the number on the scale — horrifyingly low.

"That's forty-two pounds lower than it was a week ago. That's after two big plates of food and two sodas. That's almost a third of my weight and it's bolstered by a giant meal." He almost started to cry again.

"It's okay, kid, we're gonna fix that; that number will be up by the end of the week. And it'll keep going up until you hit the right number. For now, you get to have a whole sheet cake. What flavor do you want? Pink, chocolate or vanilla?"

"Pink with chocolate frosting?" said Peter.

"Okay," Hank was silent for several moments. Then he said, "Charles says Scott is going to go pick one up."

"How did you do that?"

"Charles told you. All you've got to do is think that puppies grow into dogs that get old and die and Charles will hear that and listen in. We don't just use it for emergencies. So I thought that and when he asked what I needed I told him that you want pink cake with chocolate frosting and he said Scott's going to the store and will pick it up. Let's do the x-ray first." He held Peter's hands as he walked to an examination table. Then he pulled down a big lamp-like thing and put a plate-like thing under this leg. He explained how he was going to take pictures from different angles and then added a lead blanket over his lap and one over his good leg, "That's to keep your swimmers safe for your future children."

"Don't talk about my swimmers in front of May."

"Sorry, kid." He moved behind a wall and said, "May, please come over here." There was a click and then Hank was back, moving the plate and the lamp thing. He went through the process several times. Then he pulled a computer over to Peter and Aunt May came and sat next to him. "Okay, the good news and the bad news are the same: that bones are about seventy percent healed. That means the surgery is going to suck because I'm going to have to rebreak them and then also sort of, um, file the parts that should be touching to open them back up so they can heal together. You will be unconscious and when you're awake you're gonna be so drugged up that you're going to be saying things like, 'Why is grapefruit called grapefruit? It looks nothing like a grape and it tastes awful.' You're gonna be that stoned."

"And you're definitely going to be in an Ilizarov apparatus," said May. "But, hey, that means that even with a break this bad, you're not gonna lose any height. You definitely would lose a little height otherwise."

"Wait, is this that thing in Grey's Anatomy where the guy got that infection and lost, like an inch? That looked so scary. And I am not tall enough to lose an inch."

May shook her head, "It is that metal circle with the pins but you know Grey's Anatomy is awful for medical knowledge and that man had back ally surgery in a developing nation. You have the best doctor in his field. It does look scary, it is uncomfortable but it's also best. Like Hank said: you'll be drugged up to your eyeballs." Hank was looking at them with a raised eyebrow. "It is a guilty pleasure and I've been watching for almost as long as Pete's been alive."

"May has every season on her iTunes account. You said the bad news was also the good?" asked Peter.

"If it was sixty percent or lower healed I would want you in surgery now. The fact of the matter is, at seventy percent, the surgery is going to be only slightly different than when it's fully healed, the recovery will be the same. Which means I can leave it a few days while you get healthier. And that's good. Let's get your MRI."

While Peter stayed very still in a tube he listened to May and Hank discussing the best drugs for him, doing math about his healing, weight and metabolism. When he was done, Hank said, "It's a bad concussion, Peter. He broke your skull in three spots, that's why it's so bad. I can't imagine how badly that hurt. No reading, no texting, no homework, no complicated TV that makes you think too much. You have to rest physically and mentally." He stroked Peter's back. "With your healing and being treated with kindness and comfort instead of brutality, I'd say, you can have surgery in three days. I'm sorry I can't do it sooner. It's a brutal injury. I would say without your abilities, you would be dead. What they did, I can't even imagine and being drugged right after it, I'm so sorry you had this happen to you. And this is after over a week of healing. Would you be okay with me doing a physical exam?" Peter nodded. "I need you to strip down to your underwear. Do you want May to step out?"

"May has to tell me to put on clothes because someone is coming over at least once a week. I'm very much a boxers-on-the-sofa kinda guy. But, I'm not wearing underwear. Mine were too disgusting to put back on after my bath."

"I brought you boxers," said May. "Let me go get your bag."

She left and Hank said, "We've got a moment. Let me ask the questions no one wants their parent to hear: Drinks, drugs, smoking and sex?"

"Never, to all of them," he said.

"Okay, good for you. Make good choices," said Hank. "I want a urine sample, to check for bleeding. You were vomiting blood and I just want to see what's going on."

May brought a duffle down and said, "I did not bring enough clothes, I thought maybe a couple of days but with you this injured, we might be better off keeping you here for the duration. I'll go home and get more clothes. Any requests?"

"My Spidey mask, it will help regulate the light getting to my sore head and Hank said the students are good company but I'd rather they know Spidey is here and not Peter Parker. And clean sneakers because the ones I have here will work but they've been drenched in fear sweat for eight days so they should air."

She nodded, "I can do that."

"I appreciate your understanding," said Hank. "I know you guys would rather be home but I want Peter when I can keep an eye on him."

"Thank you, Hank, really," said May.

"Peter and I have been friends for three months, I didn't know his name, but I liked him: so much joy in his heroism." Peter went through his bag for boxers and Hank handed him a little cup. "I want to see how your kidneys are doing." He pointed, "Bathroom."

Peter went into the bathroom and stripped before peeing. He washed his hands and put on his boxers. He handed off his pee to Hank who said, "That's darker than I would like."

"Honey," said May, looking over all his bruises on display.

"Usually I don't have bruises this long after a fight. But with everything in that cell, I think my powers focused on keeping me alive and my bones. I'll be okay, May, I'm warm and fed and not in active distress now." She helped him back to the examining table.

Hank was looking at his pee under a microscope. "You have blood in your urine. I think it's most likely a damaged kidney. And I don't know if it's the starvation or injury." He started looking Peter over and everything hurt. Peter kept gasping every time Hank put any pressure on him.

Hank sighed, "I don't like this. How much do you hate Bruce Banner?"

Peter thought about it, "It really depends on if he told Mr. Stark to destroy the weapon."

"He knows far more about how radiation impacts bodies with the ability to turn into a strength instead of a death sentence. I want to give you a full body CT. But that's a lot of radiation. I want a consult."

"Okay," agreed Peter.

Hank picked up an old style phone with a cord. Cop stations had similar ones. They looked quaint to Peter. Hank dialed it and then hit a button so it came out the speaker. It was answered by JARVIS. "Hello, this is JARVIS, you have reached Stark Tower. How may I direct your call?"

"I'm trying to reach Bruce Banner."

"May I ask who is calling?"

"A doctor who believes that people who injure children go to hell."

"Ah, how is Spider-Man?"

Hank shook his head in anger, "I get that you're an AI and you don't get to pick your friends, but any friend of Stark's doesn't get an update."

"Of course, sir. Connecting you now."

The phone rang for a moment and then Bruce's voice said, "Hank, how is he?"

"Why are you still in the Tower, Bruce? Are you actually going to stay loyal to of those people?" Hank responded.

Bruce sighed, "I'm so angry that I actually can't leave. I am a hair's breadth away from a Hulk out. The Tower can take it; New York cannot. So, until I can breathe without my pulse spiking, I'm here, in my lab and no one is dumb enough to come in here. How's Peter?"

Hank looked to Peter who gave a slight nod, "He's not good. He's so badly hurt that I can't palpitate his abdomen. He has already had four x-rays on his leg and a head CT for me to see his broken skull and one of the worst concussions I've ever seen." Bruce took several audible slow, deep breaths, clearly fighting his anger. When his breathing went normal, Hank said, "I want to do a full body CT but that's a lot of radiation for a small body. He can't deal any touch firm enough to show me things and even an ultrasound needs more pressure than he can stand. You're the expert on this. Will the radiation in his system from the bite compound with the radiation from the machine?"

"No, his body pays no attention to the radiation — people like us are basically immune to it or suck it up like a battery. Either which way, Peter will be fine. Get the CT."

Hank looked at Peter with an eyebrow arched and it was obvious what the question was. Peter nodded slowly. "Bruce, I can subdue Hulk for long enough for Charles to neutralize him. We don't want to take you down but we could. I could use extra hands? I'm going to need an anesthesiologist and nurses for the surgery but I could also just use an assist with everything. Besides, don't you want to get out of the Tower?"

There was a long pause and then Bruce said, "I mean, I don't have an MD but I have an awful lot of practical experience. If you think I can help; I would be grateful to get out of here. I can't even look at them. Tony's locked himself in his lab watching the footage of Pete's captivity. He could have saved him and he wouldn't listen and now he's going to act like some," he exhaled, slow and deep. "I'll pack a bag and see you in an hour."

They hung up and Hank said, "I could use another person in the field and you could use as many friends as you can get."

"Bruce is nice," said Peter. "But I hope he doesn't Hulk out because I can't deal with Hulk right now."

"I heard you once took down the Hulk with jokes," said Hank. He gently led Peter back to the CT.

"Bad jokes, the kind that are painful but kinda funny. They calmed him down and he laughed his way back to Bruce."

"Like what?" asked Hank as he gently strapped him in.

"What's blue and smells like red paint? Blue paint. Wanna hear a joke about a roof? Never mind, it would go over your head. Two antennas got married. The ceremony sucked but the reception was amazing. Why was six afraid of seven? Because seven was a registered six offender. Y'know, groaners."

Hank smiled at him, "I actually think that last one is pretty good. Just lie still in here, it'll be over soon. And then May and I will pick your drugs based off all the information we gather. And then maybe more Chinese?"

"And cake, if it's here," agreed Peter.

"Cool, just be still."

Peter did as told. He could hear May and Hank murmuring under the sound of the machine. They both had worry in their voices. When Hank got him out of the tube he said, "It's almost impressive how much trauma is under your skin. Your organs are basically one solid injury."

"Everything hurts," agreed Peter.

May and Hank talked lots of drug names that made no sense to Peter. It was nice. For eight days he had had to protect himself, hope for himself and now May was there to make choices for him. He didn't have to understand the drugs because Hank was a good person and May wouldn't let anything happen to him. Eventually, they handed him twelve pills.

"That's a lot," said Peter.

"It's far fewer than it will be when you're the correct weight," said Hank.

"Can I take them with soda?"

"Sure, Peter. Once you have your surgery, you have to cut the soda out for a couple of weeks because it hinders bone healing but I don't really want your bone to heal anymore until after the surgery." May pulled clothes out of the duffle for Peter to shrug into.

She held out slippers and flip-flops. "I'll go home for a little while tomorrow and get you shoes but for now." She held them out to him.

He took the slippers. "Thanks, May."

"Where is your mask?" asked May. "Because I thought I knew where everything in your room is but apparently there's all sorts of superhero stuff hidden."

"Y'know the hatch in my closet that leads up to the crawl space behind the attic?"

"Yes."

"It's up there. And, actually, there's a plastic box with little metal disks and these kinda cyberpunk leather cuffs. I would like those and my mask."

Hank picked him up. "Do you really need your web shooters?"

"I always wear my web shooters, they're a part of my daily wardrobe. My wrists feel wrong without them. They make me feel safe and they make me feel good — I made them and they're awesome and I invented a polymer because I'm awesome. And I don't feel very safe or very awesome right now so I would like a reminder of how awesome I am. If there were a real Stark Internship I would rock it. I invented a polymer when I was fourteen. I want them here."

"You are awesome," agreed Hank. "You've saved my ass multiple times. You are awesome and if they make you feel safe: go for it."

"I'd feel safer," said Peter as Hank sat it down in a kitchen chair

"Okay, cuffy things, flat things in a plastic box and your mask are hidden in the attic crawlspace," May smiled. "Is there anything else hidden in your room?"

"Don't look under my mattress."

She laughed, "Every parent knows not to look under their teenage boy's mattress."

Hank just laughed, "Teenagers." He moved to the fridge and started pulling out cartons of Chinese food. "You want me to nuke it?"

"I like Chinese cold," said Peter.

"Me too. May, I know you ate but we have kung pao chicken. Fork?"

She smiled, "Well, kung pao chicken."

He brought over the food, forks and a full sheet cake. "Here, Peter: have at it."

"A whole sheet cake," said Peter.

"It's not a dare," said Hank, "you went through hell, so you get a cake and if you don't want to eat it all that's fine. And, if you want it all but not right now, there's always tomorrow. It's your cake."

"I've never had a whole sheet cake. Aren't these meant for eighty people?"

"It's about seven thousand calories," said Hank.

Peter smiled and took a bite. "Oh my God, that's really good. Do you guys want a bite? I know it's my cake but you guys can have a bite."

May and Hank both took bites and May said, "Betty Brant's mother is a filthy liar."

Peter took another bite, "Yeah, that's Betty's birthday cake."

"She told me it was a family recipe and she couldn't hand it out: filthy liar," she said and Hank laughed. He really laughed and May smiled at him, "What?"

"About eighty percent of our kids don't have families. Their parents view them as someone else once their mutation shows. And then they turn their backs. You found out he's Spider-Man and you're talking about Betty Brant's birthday cake and I have to wonder if you're ignoring it or you're just really, really well-adjusted."

"When I was twenty-three and a year into my marriage, I found out I was barren. Most people prefer the term sterile. But I think barren is funny and if you're twenty-three and you wanted four kids and you can't afford adoption, you have to laugh. And a year later I smiled when my in-laws said they were going to have a baby, I smiled because I loved my husband's brother and my sister-in-law and I wanted to be happy for them. And I was happy for them but I also wasn't. And five years later, after they died in an accident, I became a mom in a horrible way that no one wants to become a mom. And, eight months ago I became a widow after only sixteen years of a perfect marriage. And I am angry and I am horrified and I am scared and I am sad about what happened to Peter. I want to burn S.H.I.E.L.D. to the ground and rip Captain America's heart out. I can't. All I can do is keep my kid close and love him. Like the idiots on Grey's Anatomy say: he is my person. A spider bite and a freaking terrifying reason to why my rule-following kid has been sneaking out of his window, change nothing. You expect your kid's body to change during puberty and you expect them to do some stupid teenager stuff — still my kid."

"You're my person, too, May. I'm still stuck on this cake. Hank, where does Betty Brant's mom buy her family recipe's cake from?"

"BJ's," said Hank.

"We're getting that membership the minute we leave here," said May.

There was a knock at the kitchen door and Hank called, "The sign on the door says off limits. Deal with it."

"It's Bruce," called Bruce, "Charles directed me here."

"Come in," said Hank.

"There's a sign on the door?" asked Peter.

"You're a VIP, Peter, and you don't want people to see your face. You get your space," said Hank as Bruce walked in.

Bruce stood looking at Peter and said, "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry." He came to Peter and crouched by his chair. He studied Peter's face and Peter knew he was seeing the thin cheeks and heavy bags under his eye. He saw the bruises on Peter's exposed arms. He saw all the damage. "I'm so sorry. I tried to talk to Tony, but I failed you. I really failed you. And I'm going to do everything I can to help you and I know I can't fix it. But I will do anything."

"Thanks, Bruce," said Peter. "I had a two-hour medical exam. I'm sure Hank will go over it with you. But right now we're eating cold Chinese food. Grab a fork. You're also allowed one bite of my cake. I'm being beneficent."

"You've eaten a third of a sheet cake?" asked Bruce.

"I had two thousand one hundred and eighty calories over the last eight days: Hank says I get a whole cake."

"Jesus," said Bruce.

"Captain America broke my leg," said Peter, softly.

Bruce nodded, "I know. He seems to be sulking. They're all acting like it's about them. I haven't seen Sam since before your abduction. Clint flew away to see his family. The weapon had a remote detonation button. Tony blew it up from thousands of miles away."

Peter swallowed, "So all this…"

"I know, I know," said Bruce. He rested a hand on Peter's knee and did his trademarked don't-Hulk-out breathing. "We all failed you."

"You and Clint didn't. You tried your best," said Peter. He shook his head, getting the thoughts away from him. "Have a bite of my cake."

Bruce got a fork and had a bite, "That is good. Peter-"

"I'm kinda stoned," said Peter. "But everything is still screaming. I'm so, so tired. I don't want to cry anymore today, Bruce. Let's just eat because I'm going to go pass out in ten minutes and I am too tired to talk about this. If you want to talk about cake, or BJ's Wholesale, or how Aunt May is a good mom, or that one of my friend's mom is a total liar, we can. But we can't talk about this anymore today."

"So it's not your friend who is a liar, it's her mom?" said Bruce, picking up a carton of chow mein.

"Her mother is a filthy liar," said May. She held out her hand, "I'm May."

"Bruce." He shook her hand. "Your kid's awesome. I only found out his name two weeks ago, but I've liked him for quite a while and he is a credit to you."

Peter made it through three-fifths of his cake and then said, "May, is it too lame to ask you to sleep in my bed tonight?"

"No, honey, that's not too lame," she said.

The next morning, a knock came at the door. He could hear water running and guessed May was showering. Rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock Peter called, "Yeah?" seeing that it was ten, he pushed himself upright.

"It's Charles," called the man.

"You can come in," said Peter, leaning back against the headboard.

The door opened and Charles said, "Good morning, I'm so sorry to wake you."

"It's ten," said Peter.

"Yes, but it's only twelve hours after you went to sleep," said Charles. "If you want to, you can go back to sleep. Dr. Strange is coming in an hour. I wasn't sure if you wanted to be in that meeting or if you would rather roll over and go to sleep. You can talk or you can just be in the room. May and I can do it without you but, you've had so much of your autonomy stripped away that I felt it was better to ask."

Peter thought about it, "I want to be there in case he has questions."

Charles gave him a small smile. "Okay, and would you like to go back to sleep for a little while or would you rather bathe and eat pancakes?"

"Pancakes," said Peter. "There's only one problem: I don't have my mask and I want to keep a secret identity."

"I can clear the halls," said Charles.

Peter climbed out of bed slowly and put on his slippers, and followed the man who went before him asking people to go into their rooms for "just a moment." He showed Peter a ramp to the kitchen and entering before him he said, "Kitty, I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but please go eat in the dining room."

"Okay, but why do you keep kicking people out of the kitchen?" asked a girl.

"Spider-Man came yesterday badly in need of medical assistance and without his mask," explained Hank's voice.

"Oh, wow, well okay then. Thanks for the pancakes, Dr. McCoy." He heard the girl leave and Peter went in.

Hank smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Less tired," said Peter.

"Kitty just ate all the pancakes. Give me a couple of minutes," said Hank.

"I'll start with an appetizer," said Peter going to the fridge and taking his huge cake out.

Hank smiled at him. Then Charles brought a glass of milk and a saucer of pills to the table for him. Peter looked, they were the same as last nights. "None of these are addictive, right?"

"Some of them are but not when you're in pain," said Hank. "We'll keep an eye on it."

A knock came at the door and May said, "It's me."

"Come in," said Peter.

She opened the door and smiled, "I was a little worried when you weren't in bed."

"I'm having breakfast," he said pointing his fork at the cake.

"Breakfast of champions," she agreed.

They ate together and then Peter went up to wash and brush his teeth and shave for the first time. He was still young enough that he only needed to shave once a week but he had been due a shave when kidnapped and was very scruffy now. He wiped off his face and brushed his hair before putting on different clothes, sticking to sweats for his leg's sake.

He carefully took the ramp back down, making sure people's doors were closed. He went back down to the kitchen and got there just as Dr. Strange stepped in. He looked at Peter and said, "Am I supposed to pretend I don't know who you are?"

"You knew my secret identity the whole time?"

"I don't know your name, but I know your after-school activity," said Dr. Strange. "I know your aura."

"Oh, I'm Peter and Spider-Man," he said. Then he nodded to Aunt May, "That's my aunt, May."

"My goodness. I suppose I should have known you would have a beautiful aunt."

Aunt May looked him up and down, "I thought 'Dr. Strange' was a cool superhero alias. I didn't realize it was you."

"And from your tone, it appears my reputation proceeds me. It's all true, I'm afraid."

She nodded, "I was a scrub nurse in your OR for five years, I know."

"Ah," he said, "it's nice to see you again."

"Stephen, stop embarrassing yourself," said Charles, bringing him a coffee.

"Thank you," said the other man, accepting the cup. "I doubt we've gathered to discuss my past as a rather despicable person. And I assume it has to do with Peter's damaged appearance."

"Three Avengers beat and kidnapped him for S.H.I.E.L.D. who held him for eight days under brutal conditions. They allowed him to escape saying he had to get information from Tony Stark to them and they threatened May to force the point," explained Charles.

"Ah, and Fury is scared of mutants and magic so we're going to go put the fear of God into him," guessed Dr. Strange.

"No, not the fear of God, the fear of us," corrected Charles.

"Okay," said Dr. Strange.

"That's it?" asked Peter. "You don't need anything else?"

"I assume that Charles will fill me in on any salient details I need when you're not here so you don't have to feel uncomfortable," said Dr. Strange.

"No one asked me for proof. Not once. I told Hank and May and Charles and no one questioned it. I mean, Bruce came after and confirmed it but I was never asked for proof." He felt stupid for pointing it out but he had to. Suddenly Dr. Strange's cape flew off his shoulders to wrap itself around Peter. "Aw, it likes me."

Dr. Strange looked up at the ceiling, biting his lower lip, "I need two seconds to keep the condescending smile off my face." Then he sighed and looked at Peter. "Spider-Man is inarguably good. We know this. The Avengers are useful not necessarily good. I know you thought they walked on water. Even wearing a mask you were so obviously star struck and enamored. I thought you were an early twenties college kid. You call him 'Mr. Stark.' They are superheroes whereas you're just an all-around hero. You turn up here, looking like that, and you say they did it. What possible reason would you have to lie? You're not going to make up things about your personal heroes. The only logical answer is that you're telling the truth. In a court of law, they're innocent until proven guilty. We're in a kitchen, not a courtroom. And you're young, a thirteen-year-old I'm guessing, that doesn't mean you're untrustworthy."

"Fifteen," said Peter.

"My apologies," said Dr. Strange. "You were under the impression that they were bastions of integrity. The rest of us know… they're dicks with big skill sets. I'm sorry they broke the illusion for you. The good news is that you're like the captain of the JV team — not as popular as the senior quarterback but more widely liked 'cause you don't throw parties but you also don't roofie people and are always willing to help people study. S.H.I.E.L.D. is myopic. They focused on your ties to the Avengers and not the fact that you are known and liked by everyone. They thought you would be easy to keep under their thumb. But you're not, we've got you. Is there anything you would like us to accomplish while we're there?"

"They have my backpack. It's got my phone, and, like, five hundred dollars' worth of textbooks, all my class notes and the headphones I got for Christmas. But maybe asking undermines you?"

"No, we scare the hell out of Fury and remind him that he is tiny and then we demand your property and glower while they scramble over themselves in fear," said Dr. Strange. "We're very good at glowering."

"This isn't the first time we've done this," explained Charles. "We have it down to a science. S.H.I.E.L.D. has a long history of manipulating young people with powers. They just thought you weren't under our protection because they are myopic."

"Were any of the Avengers nice?" asked Dr. Strange.

"Bruce is here. He's gonna help Hank with my surgery and Clint's apparently quit S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers and left the state."

"Makes sense, Banner isn't a dick and Barton is a dick but he's also a father so, it evens out."

"Thor is off planet," added Peter.

"He's a totalitarian dick; he would side with the government," said Dr. Strange.

"Stephen, someone needs to call Peter's school and tell them he has a concussion and can't work," said Hank. "They think he's at a retreat. It's going to come out that Spider-Man is injured. And Peter Parker with his Stark Retreat-related injury cannot share a doctor with Spider-Man."

"Of course I can call. Do you need any help with Peter's treatment?"

"I think I have a handle on it but if you could do a review and just agree that would be great. His surgery is on his leg but… a consult would be nice," said Hank.

"When we come back with Peter's backpack, we can review it together. And, back when I was a horrible person, I kicked a lot of people out of my OR, May being on my team for five years shows she is an excellent scrub nurse."

"Yes, but, I don't really want a parent in my surgery," said Hank.

Charles suggested that he, May, and Dr. Strange went to his office to hammer out the details. He said, "Peter, you can come with if you want, but you seem tired and May is here to be your advocate."

"My head hurts and they say you shouldn't think too hard with a concussion," said Peter.

They left and the cloak around Peter's neck flew after them, as though it were afraid of being left behind. Hank said, "Y'wanna lie down in my lab and watch me work quietly on some projects while we listen to gentle music?"

"That sounds nice," agreed Peter. There was a couch and Peter settled down, then Hank draped a blanket over him.

"Just rest," the man said, "no thinking." Peter heard murmurs and Hank spoke very softly as he said, "No, he's been asleep for hours. Bruce and I have been working but he zonked out the minute we got down here."

"Good," said Dr. Strange. "Okay, here's what you need to keep an eye on during his surgery." Peter let their voices wash over him and fell back to sleep.

When he woke up later he ate three turkey sandwiches as Dr. Strange called his school and told them that Peter had been in a bad accident at science camp. He explained that Peter wasn't going to be doing homework or tests because of a bad concussion. Peter gathered from the couch that the school was surprised Dr. Strange was being his doctor and the man laughed, "Stark Science does amazing work with kids. Tony has been a friend for years so I'm on retainer because kids bump their heads and, even though Peter is in Portland at the moment, I'm willing to fly anywhere for a patient as long as I'm not footing the bill," he gave a doctor-ish laugh. Finally hanging up he said, "As your school has less than month left before summer vacation, they said don't worry and just do you work and tests over the summer."

"Thank you," said Peter.

Peter charged his phone but Hank said, "No screens."

"I just wanna see who texted. Ned must be worried."

Hank sighed and said, "Ten minutes."

He had a hundred and ten texts from Ned, thirty from MJ and, strangely, one from Flash. Peter texted Ned and MJ, "Sorry I went to the Stark Science Retreat without warning; it sprung up at the last moment. Then I lost my phone, then I lost my charger, now I have a concussion and the doctor is glaring at me as I type this. And, tbh, my head hurts looking at this screen. I'll read your texts and text you in a few days... or weeks. My head is killing me." He added in a few typos to sell it.

He put his phone down and rummaged through his bag to make sure his headphones weren't broken. They were fine but something else made him gasp. The suit Stark had made was in there. "I don't want this." Hank took it from him.

Wordlessly, Hank took a picture with his own phone and then threw it into a medical waste incinerator. He took another photo of it burning and then spoke as he typed. "He wants nothing from you so I destroyed it. You might not know when to trash tech, the rest of us do." The man smiled. "Done."

Aunt May came down and smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Less tired," he said.

"Good, I went home while you were sleeping and got some more clothes. I brought down your mask so you can wander about more." Then she showed him a shopping bag, "Shoes."

She pulled out a brand new shoebox containing color changing Air Maxes and he looked at them and said, "May, these are way too much."

"Actually, Payless seems to think they are last season, instead of rare and they put them on clearance. They were fine." Then she pulled out the LEGO Arkham Asylum.

"May," he said slowly; that was even more expensive than the shoes.

"The guy on eBay, much like Payless, didn't know what he was selling — to the point where I almost felt it was immoral for me to buy it at that price. He priced it like it was a big LEGO set instead of a retired, highly coveted, set. If I was someone who bought stuff to flip, I feel I would be honor bound to tell him. But as I was buying it for you to build, I feel it was just a bargain. It was supposed to be for your birthday but you can't read or watch a screen. I know my millennial kid is going crazy, you don't go five minutes without texting someone, so you get a five thousand piece Batman toy because it won't hurt your head and it will keep you entertained."

"So there are perks to getting kidnapped? Cool shoes and early birthday presents?"

"Nothing can make up for what you went through, honey, all I can do is try to make things a little easier. So you get the shoes you've wanted for six months and the LEGO set you've coveted since you were ten. It fixes nothing but they're cool sneakers and a time-consuming toy."

Over the next few days, he had about a million tests, five million pills and a billion calories. May was always with him. He wasn't allowed to look at screens but he sent Ned and Michelle a few texts and emails by dictating to May.

Peter wore his mask most of the time, cutting the light helped his sore head.

He met some of the students. He liked Bobby, a kid who could freeze things. Within minutes of meeting, Peter said, "That's cool but I was imprisoned by people who used cold as a weapon so don't pull any cold pranks on me. It won't be funny."

"Good to know, because I do like pranks," said Bobby.

He started building Arkham on a back table in the library, Bobby studying at the table as Peter built. "Is this fun for you?" asked Bobby.

"Well, I like swinging more. I like climbing up to high buildings and enjoying the view. I like midair acrobatics. I like staring at a screen for upwards of four hours a day — I built my computer myself out of scavenged parts. In my downtime, I like LEGO. I have nothing but downtime, Bobby. Like, all the downtime. This is as much excitement as I can handle. And it's Arkham, Bobby, Arkham. With eight minifigs and many, many moving parts."

He went for a very gentle swim with Bobby that afternoon and he and May had started eating dinner with students. Peter kept his face covered but May didn't have social media and the only pictures of her on the internet were the ones Peter posted to his own profiles. He could be found but she couldn't without finding him first. He ate three times as much as anyone else at the table.

The night of day four, Hank said, "No eating after two am tonight, if you wake up, don't hit the kitchen. You have surgery at six am. Usually, a patient needs to not eat for twelve hours, but with your metabolism, I say four is plenty."

"Really? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, and we're getting rid of your appendix because it's swollen from all your other injuries. And we need to see your kidney. You can keep your mask on so the anesthesiologist and the nurses don't see your face. You're a little healthier and you've gained seven pounds."

"Really?" asked Peter again.

"You're ready," said May. "Now, if you really, really want me there, I will be, but it's much easier for doctors to work without family in the room. Especially medical people, we start back-seating: 'Really, that's the scalpel you're using?' 'Why aren't you using silk stitches?' Family is a distraction. So, I think I should be in the next room, reading, because we trust Hank and Bruce and they're going to take care of you. What do you think?"

"Okay," said Peter. "Is the appendix thing gonna hurt?"

"Well, with everything else… it's going to be negligible. And it will give your other organs a bit of space."

"Okay," repeated Peter, "okay."

After dinner they went over it all again, walking Peter through the process again, his healing time and the whole plan. He listened and said, "So we're ditching the appendix, we might be ditching my kidney and I'm going to have the cage thing on for six to eight weeks. I can't walk on it. It's gonna hurt but you're gonna keep me drugged up. And I'm going to be taking sponge baths instead of showering." He nodded, "I know. But, I'm gonna be me again after all that, right?"

"You're you right now, kid," said Hank, "you're just the injured version of you," said Hank. "We'll have you swinging down fifth in a blink."

Later that night, in bed, Peter was looking at the pictures of a magazine, when May came and sat, cross-legged on top of the covers. "Tony Stark has made three versions of the security footage. All three vastly alter your face so that people can see your reactions but not your identity — he sent a picture and it's not recognizably you — and bleep out identifying information. One is the most 'salient moments of horror.' One is longer, with more details and one is just the full length of it. He wants to put all three on the internet with the title 'S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers Brutalize Teenager Beneath Spider-Man's Mask.' I think they're all going to end up facing charges. What do you want to do? It's up to you. If you want it to go away, I can say no, tell him to die in a fire and that if he ever comes into Queens, I will murder him. Or, if you want he can put it on the internet and they will all be pulled in for questioning. But it's up to you. What do you want to do?"

"I want there to be a note. I want it to say that Clint and Bruce tried to help. I want that on the record. I don't want Bruce or Clint having to defend themselves. But I would really like watching the rest of them being interrogated on Court TV. I think it might help."

"Okay. I'll text the bastard back."

"Oh, good," Peter breathed out, "I'm glad he didn't call."

"I don't think he would have been able to talk with the amount of screaming I want to do."

He was embarrassed but said, "Can you stay here tonight?"

She looked up from her phone. "Honey, I haven't slept in the other bed once. Why do you think that's changing tonight? I'm not sleeping in that bed until you start saying that you're not a little kid and kick me out."

"Cool, thanks."

"It's not a favor, Peter," she said, texting. Then she put her phone down and said, "Do you want to listen to a movie?" They had been doing that, putting on old favorites that Peter didn't need to watch to know. The screen hurt his eyes but the noise was nice.

"I'm tired: I can't do a whole movie. Can you put on the episode of Grey's Anatomy episode with the ferry crash?"

"Sure, honey." She opened her laptop and lined up the show. Peter closed his eyes, listening to the old stupid show May liked. He drifted off while Izzy operated on a guy pinned beneath a vehicle.

It was very late when he roused a little and he saw May was still staring at her screen with earbuds in. He nudged her a little and was about to make a joke about her always telling him off for too much screen time. But when she looked at him her eyes were wet. "May?" she pulled out her earbuds. "Is it the shooting episode? You know the shooting episode upsets you."

"Oh, Peter," she said, a shake in her voice.

With sudden realization, he said, "May, you shouldn't watch that. It's not your fault and it's gonna make you hurt and I don't want you to hurt." He pushed himself to sit up. "It's not good for you."

"The mid-length one is nineteen hours. All Stark cut out was silence and times where nothing happened. There were nineteen hours of you actively suffering. I'm six hours in. I'm watching it, Peter, I have to."

He nodded, "Okay, but you need some sleep because I have surgery in the morning and you need to be well rested so you can worry and wring your hands while I'm under the knife." That made her laugh. "Close the laptop, May, it's over now and the footage isn't going anywhere. It's over. Close the laptop."

She closed the laptop, and then said, "Roll over." Peter did as told and she hugged him from behind.

"I'm here, May, it's okay," He hugged Wicket and willed himself back to sleep.

Then May was saying, "Pete, it's time to wake up. You gotta wake up because the doctors and nurses are getting ready."

"They gonna shave my leg?"

"No, shaving causes micro-abrasions that can actually increase the chance of infection. So, no, you're keeping your masculine leg hair."

"Good."

"You're not going to be able to bathe yourself without some assistance after the surgery so shower now," she said.

Nodding, he got up and brushed his teeth and peed. He showered, washing thoroughly. He put his mask on and went down to Hank's lab which had been transformed into an OR with the use of a ton of scrubbing and work.

Peter was given shorts, "Hey, Spidey, we're ready. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready to get this fixed," he agreed, going to the bathroom to change. And came back, "Okay, okay." He sat down on the operating table. "It's all going to be okay, right?"

"Yeah," said Hank. "It's all gonna be okay. Can you fold your mask above your nose? We're not going to take it off we just need access in case you need oxygen. No one is taking it off."

Peter breathed out and folded it up. "Okay."

"Lie back for me," said Hank.

Peter took a breath, there was a bubble of panic beneath his skin. "Can I see May for a second? Just, like, a second?"

"Of course," said Bruce, "we've all scrubbed in so we can't go out. But you can."

"Okay," Peter stood up. "Sorry," he added.

"Rule about apologizing," said Hank.

"Right."

He went out the door and saw May, waiting right outside with her laptop. "I promised I'd be out here," she said, taking out her earbuds and turning the computer so he couldn't see the screen.

"I know, I just wanted a hug before."

She hugged him and held him close saying, "Look, it's about a four-hour surgery. Then you'll be groggy, it's gonna suck, you're going to be sore, we're gonna keep you drugged up. I will order or cook you anything you want. They have a huge oven, they can give me a little space."

"So we can have meatloaf?"

"If you feel up to it, I will make you meatloaf and macaroni if you want it. Or we can eat ice cream or garlic bread or whatever you want. It's all going to be okay and it's going to suck. So, go back in there, knowing that in a few days you are going to feel so much better and I'll be here the whole time. And I will be watching the horror show or the internet, because I can be emotionally compromised because I don't have to worry about this surgery, it's going to suck but you're gonna be just fine."

He pulled back and kissed her cheek. "See you in a few hours. Love you."

"Love you too, honey," she smiled.

Going back in he said, "Okay, okay, I'm good now." He hopped onto the table and laid back. "So are you giving me like, the gas mask or an injection? 'Cause I'm not afraid of needles."

"A little injection," said the anesthesiologist. "Can I have your arm, please?"

Holding out his arm Peter said, "Don't let me die because May says she'll make me meatloaf if I want it afterward. And I haven't had May's cooking in almost two weeks. People think she can't cook but it's the home cooking I grew up with and I like it, so I would like meatloaf." Then he was out.

He woke up, head hurting saying, "Oh God, oh God."

"Honey, I'm right here, I'm right here," said May.

"Everything hurts and this sucks," said Peter.

"I know," said May. "Your surgery was perfect. Hank and Bruce are very pleased."

"So can I have meatloaf? And can I have mashed potatoes instead of mac, please?"

"Yes you can," she said with a smile. She held a glass of water with a bendy straw. "Drink."

He took a few sips. "And can I have more drugs? Because everything hurts and you promised all the drugs," asked Peter.

"Yeah, I'll get Hank," then she leaned in and said, "I know he only covers the genetically cool people but I really want him to be my primary physician. Also, the guy for genetically cool people has point blank refused to take money. You might end up with a step-uncle, just FYI."

"There are worse people you could marry, but make sure you're into him for you and not because he's nice to your kid."

"But he's so nice to my kid, Peter," she said. Peter tried to sit up and then hissed. His leg was in the weird metal cage and on a weird foam pillow thing. "Careful, honey, your leg is elevated to lessen the swelling." She moved his bed, slowly raising the back to help him sit up. "Your leg has to be above your heart but you can be a little. Better?" She offered him the cup again and he took another few sips.

"A little, but I still want drugs," said Peter.

"I'll go get Hank," said May. She kissed his forehead. "You did beautifully, honey."

She was gone and back in a flash. Hank smiled at him, "Hey, Peter, you were awesome. And I put your appendix in a jar. I wasn't sure if you wanted it." He started fiddling with Peter's IV.

"I can keep it?" asked Peter.

"You can keep it," said Hank. He started examining Peter and said, "Can I take off your mask? I need to check your eyes?"

Peter took it off and rolled his head on his neck, "Did you up my drugs?"

"Significantly, I wanted you to come out of the anesthesia and now that you're awake, I upped it."

"Thanks," said Peter as Hank shined a light in his eyes. "I don't like that."

"I know, I'm sorry," said Hank. "How are you feeling?"

"Really rough," said Peter. "But May is going to make me meatloaf and I get to keep an organ in a jar."

"You might end up with a second jar. Your kidney is not doing great, it's actually the effects of starvation, not injury. I'm hoping good food and a lot of R&R is going to heal it. You're young and you have souped up healing. We need you to take it easy, kiddo." Peter nodded. Hank smiled at him. "Thank you. When you go to the bathroom, don't try to get there by yourself. You can close and lock the door but please don't try to walk there by yourself. Okay?"

"Okay, can you up the drugs a little more?" asked Peter.

Hank fiddled with the IV again. "Give that a few minutes."

May looked gray and Peter said, "May, did something happen while I was in surgery?"

"You were in surgery for about five hours and it took a half hour to wake up. And I was watching that horrible video."

"You shouldn't watch it, May," said Peter.

"He altered your face and it doesn't look like you but they're recognizably your expressions. I knew it was cold, Peter, but the footage has a temperature gauge in the corner. The cell was usually kept at twenty degrees unless you seemed to get bored or slightly comfortable at which point they would gradually work it down to ten."

He nodded, "Makes sense. Sometimes I thought I was going crazy when I thought it was getting colder. It was always very cold," he shrugged, "I'm not cold now, May. I'm safe." He held out a hand for hers.

"They monitored your pulse and your stress levels to make sure you were constantly in distressed," said May.

"I'm not surprised, S.H.I.E.L.D. is very good at what they do," said Peter. Then he took a breath, "May, I don't really want to talk about what they did night now. And I think Imma vomit in a second." She grabbed a basin and he puked his guts up. "Hey, no blood, that's good."

"I think we should lower the drugs just a tad, get food into your system. I'm going to run up and make you a few PB&Js. Just breathe, okay?" said Hank as he messed with the IV again.

May perched on the side of his bed and spoke softly. "With the food and the drugs, you're going to pass out soon."

He looked around and saw the extra machines. And then touched the thing on his finger, "I don't like the clippy thing. Can we take that off?"

"That's a pulse oximeter, it's looking at the level of oxygen in your blood and taking your pulse."

"I don't like it. I want to take it off please."

"Okay, okay," she removed it.

Peter knew she was usually pretty intractable when it came to medical care but he was pretty sure he could get anything right now. "I have to figure out where I'm gonna put my appendix."

"Well, even in a preservative it shouldn't get hot. So nowhere in direct sunlight and no near your computer because you have so much plugged into that thing that it's a fire hazard. Maybe the shelf above your window."

Peter nodded, thinking, "I have to pee but don't worry, I can get to the bathroom easily and without putting any weight on my leg."

She sighed, "Are you sure?

"Positive, I would wall-crawl there but I would have to unhook the IV and that's not okay."

"Okay, I'm spotting you and if you want to ask for help, I'll be right there."

"May, you're too little to help."

"A) I currently have twenty-five pounds on you. B) I have spent years of my life moving patients who were much larger than you. Don't write me off."

He smiled at her, "Can you push the bed toward the wall?" It was on casters and she did as asked. Peter carefully removed the foam thing from under his leg climbed out of the bed, looping one arm around his IV pole. He used his two arms and one good leg to walk to the bathroom unaided.

"How are you doing that, Peter?" she asked.

"They call me Wall-Crawler for a reason. I can stick to stuff," he said, "it would be easier if I was a foot further off the ground but I don't want to knock the IV pole."

"Okay, I'll man the pole, you make yourself comfortable." So he climbed higher and let May focus on the pole while he turned so he was horizontal to the floor. It was easy and faster, holding his damaged leg out behind him. "This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen," said May, keeping up with him.

"This is by far the most comfortable way for me to move with my leg this way."

"I'm glad you have a comfortable way to get around. I was thinking you might need a wheelchair or a crutch."

"No, walls and web shooters," said Peter. "But the web shooters make dust and we're guests."

"If you need to use the web shooters, I can guarantee Charles isn't going to care about dust." Peter laughed and allowed himself down gently in the doorway.

She made no protest to his shutting and locking the door. Afterward, he washed his hands and face. He thought that, since prison, he washed more in the bathroom. Then, outside, as he was going back to bed Hank and Bruce came down. "Peter," said Hank sounding tired, "You were supposed to get help to get out of bed."

"I did, Aunt May is manning the pole, that's the help I need. Please let me have some autonomy over my trips to the bathroom. I would probably be less touchy about it before, but this is after and I'm touchy as all get out." He got back to the bed and set himself back down. He moved the foam thing and said, "Never even brushed it on anything." Hank brought over a whole big platter of peanut butter and jellies. "Yay, PB&J. I love PB&J," he took one and took a bite and moaned. "I was hungry." Bruce looked drawn and he said, "Bruce, were you watching the video Mr. Stark posted? 'Cause I don't think you should."

"I will, if Hank and I are your doctors then we need to know everything," said Bruce. "I haven't started it yet."

"But you look awful."

"Gee, thanks, Peter… your body is so badly broken. Watching Hank perform the surgery and holding the retractor, was… you're poor body. It's very damaged inside."

"Emotionally damaged too," quipped Peter then he saw no one was laughing. "Oh, come on, that was a good one, you left that door wide open, Bruce."

Bruce gave him a small smile, "I know that quipping your way through the horror is you hallmark. I get that. But one of your kidneys is holding on by a thread. Seeing your body… It's very hard to laugh."

Peter nodded but said, "It's harder for me, but I'm trying."

Bruce nodded and then said, "Yes, you're very trying."

Peter chuckled and started on a second sandwich. "So what's our plan? Because, outside of meatloaf for dinner, I don't know what's next."

"Well, once you're fully awake, no longer nauseous and feel full, I'm going to take some blood to test and next time you pee, I need you to pee into a cup, just to see how much protein is in your urine."

"I thought you had to fast before that kind of test," said Peter.

Hank smiled at him. "I'm the guy, remember? I know your metabolism, I know the calories you're eating: I can do the math. You don't have to fast. I felt badly enough outlawing food while you were asleep. So you're going to be staying down here, eating and resting and then you can go upstairs but this is a lazing in bed kind of a day. I want you horizontal."

"So, no library to build Arkham?" asked Peter. "Do you know how boring bed is when you can't read or watch a screen?"

"I'm gonna drug the hell out of you once you finish eating. The reason you puked before, was that your stomach was empty. So, once you're full, you're gonna drowse."

Peter ate six sandwiches and said, "I think I'm good for a little while." Bruce drew the blood with careful hands.

Afterward, Hank said, "Ready to get out of my lab and into your own bed?"

"Yes, please," said Peter.

"Okay, put your mask on." Peter did as told as they wheeled him, his IV and the stupid pulse oximeter thing to the elevator. They hadn't used it when he was first there because the door was exposed at every floor without his mask. Now he used it a lot. At the floor with his bedroom, they started going down the hall and a door opened.

Bobby smiled and then made a move that he aborted at the last moment, "I was going to jump on your bed for a ride and then I saw your leg."

"I know you don't have class right now, but, don't you have chem homework?" said Hank. "Spoiler alert: the answer is yes."

"Yeah, 'cause someone doesn't seem to realize that all the students have summeritus and set thirty pages of reading with ten short answer questions even though it's sunny outside."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm horrible: wanting you to learn. Go get your textbook. If you're quiet you can keep Spidey company while he drowses."

"I feel like I should be excused from doing work 'cause a good friend recently got badly injured and needed surgery. So, I'm distracted and emotionally distressed."

"You met him a week ago. Go get your textbook. And this is quiet time," said Hank.

"So I should cancel the strippers?" Bobby asked with a smile.

"Yes, and put Twister back in the box," said Aunt May, smiling at him.

In his bedroom, they transferred him off the gurney thing and under the sheets. Then Hank dialed up the drugs and put a basin on his bedside table. "You shouldn't puke now and you should be floating and ready for philosophical conversations with Bobby in a few minutes," joked Hank. He put the finger clip back on.

"I don't like that; it makes me sweaty," said Peter.

"But it gives us a lot of info," said Bruce.

Peter could see Bobby coming down the hall and he said, "Bobby, I need like three minutes. Go away." Then he said, "May, shut the door for a second." She did as he said and he said, "I have a question. I really like Bobby. Until this week, I had never told anyone who I was. Mr. Stark figured it out, he told Bruce and Clint. I chose to tell May and Hank. Hank said we should tell Charles and Charles said we should tell Dr. Strange. That's it: I only ever chose to tell four people. Ned and MJ don't know: Ned is a blabbermouth and MJ is an angry blurter. But all week, I've been hanging out with Bobby, and he's nice. And I have been in the mask but I haven't been Spider-Man, I've just been Peter Parker in a mask. When I leave here, I want to stay friends and, like, have him over for dinner and video game marathons at the house and I know Ned would really like him. I want to tell him. I want him to be my friend and come to the house and play Mario Cart. I just really like him. Is that crazy?"

"Y'know, we're isolated," said Hank. "People like us, like you and Bruce, we're isolated, we're viewed as freaks. We look different or move differently. We're excluded. When you meet someone who likes all of you, it can be intoxicating. When someone accepts us in our totality, accepts all of us — you feel whole. You and Bobby have parents who love every part of you. That's rare. So you have to think — how much is it that you like Bobby and how much is that you like someone who doesn't flinch when you use your webs to get a LEGO bit closer to you?"

"No, I genuinely like him, he and Ned would get on like a house with the heat on — not on fire — but well. It's not just that he's cool with me."

"Well, there is a second question which you have to ask him, does he want to know?' said Hank. "Because he likes you, I know he likes you and wants to be your friend but there is a lot of pressure is knowing someone's real name. You become responsible for their secrets and that's hard. Mutants learn to keep secrets early, to pass in society but adding someone else's secret can be a lot. So, if you decide you want to tell him, ask him if he wants to know. And if he says no, it's not that he doesn't want to be your friend, it's just that that's a lot of secrets."

Peter nodded and May said, "Honey, until a few days ago, I didn't know. I haven't had much of a say in the last eight months of your life. And until you met Tony Stark, you seem to have handled it well before he led you off the garden path. So I think you know better than me what to do about discretion in this one area. What I can say, is that I like Bobby and if he wants to come over for dinner and to sleep at our place, he is more than welcome. It's up to you who you tell, I'm not going to stop you. But I think Hank has a good point, you can't spring it on him."

Bruce smiled, "I have nothing to add, so instead, I'm going to remind you to pee in a cup the next time you go to the bathroom. We need your urine."

"Imma ask him," said Peter.

"You might want to wait until you're sober," said May.

"No, I was thinking about it yesterday when we were playing in the library and swimming. He had no interest in LEGO but he was still hanging out. And I have no interest in frisbee but I was still happy to listen to him. And that made me realize: we're, like, straight up friends. I'm not really Spidey here. I just waited to ask you 'cause I figured if you were against it, you wouldn't shout at me while I'm stoned."

May laughed, "You can ask him if he wants to be told."

"Cool, thank you for being supportive."

Hank gave him a thing that looked like a toy phone and said, "I will be up every hour to check on you. If you need me or you pee in a cup, use the walkie-talkie and I will be here in a shot. You will have an amazing nurse in and out and if you need anything, and I'm sure you'll have a few whims, I'm sure she'll give it to you." May chuckled at that. "We're gonna monitor your drugs and make sure you're comfy, okay?"

"Am I warm?" asked Peter. "I don't feel warm but I'm sweaty."

Hank took a thermometer from his lab coat, "You didn't have a fever while you were in recovery, but let's check." Looking at it he said, "Yeah, you're a little warm. I'm going to add an antibiotic." He opened a box and pulled out a vial and said, "This will stave off any post-op infection." He injected it into the other drugs. "Rest."

"Okay," agreed Peter. "But Bobby can come study?"

"Yeah," said Hank. As they left he heard Hank say, "Bobby, not too much clowning around. Spidey needs to rest."

Bobby came and said, "I'm not allowed to be witty, which full on sucks, 'cause I'm funny."

"Looking," said Peter.

"Hey… I really set that up," Bobby sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm on drugs. I get why people do drugs now." He held up his arm and pointed to the IV. "I'm mainlining drugs. I'm an intravenous drug user."

"Enjoy them, your leg looks like something out of a Saw movie."

"So gross," agreed Peter. "I have a hypothetical question for you."

"Shoot."

"Say you had a friend who was Spider-Man."

"Hard to imagine, but I'll try."

"Would you want to know who was under the mask? Because then you could, like, hang out at his house for dinner, and to play video games, and hang out with his friends and have what boys don't call sleepovers. Or, would you prefer not to know because that would mean having to keep a secret that wasn't yours and is super stressful? Because that's cool too."

"Wow, this a very high concept hypothetical. I'm really having to stretch myself to think of an answer."

Peter nudged him, pointed at himself and hinted, "I'm Spider-Man in this question."

"What drugs did the science teacher pump you full of?" asked Bobby with a laugh.

"Like, most of them."

Bobby laughed again, "I don't think this is a question you ask while on most of the drugs. This is a sober question."

"No, I decided I was good with you knowing yesterday. I waited until after the surgery because I figured that if she disapproved, May wouldn't shout at me after surgery. But she didn't shout at all, she said you're welcome for not-sleepovers. But, like, even if you say you don't want to know my name, that doesn't mean we aren't friends, it just means no not-sleepovers at my house."

Bobby smiled, "Do you mind if I think about it?"

"You can totally think about it. Knowledge is permanent. If you would think about a tattoo, you should think about this." His face itched and he rubbed the mask.

"Are you famous on the internet? I mean as you, not as Spider-Man."

"No," said Peter not understanding the question.

"Are you a child actor?" asked Bobby.

"No."

"I'm from Nassau County, Long Island and went to Floral Park Memorial High then I moved to here a year and a half ago. Are you friends with anyone like that?"

"No."

"You like science and I want to be a professional bobsledder. You like girls: I don't. Our lives don't intersect at all."

"Are you saying we're not friends?" that kind of hurt Peter's feelings. "'Cause I'm nerdy and you're gay, we can't be friends?"

Bobby laughed, "No. That's not what I'm saying. We're friends. We're definitely friends. You're a brain and I'm gay but we're also witty badasses with superpowers. We have more in common than we have different. What I'm saying is that I'm not going to recognize your face. I deleted Facebook when I came here. Take off your mask, don't tell me your name, and scratch your nose."

Peter did as he was told and said, "My hair was wet when I put my mask on and the humidity is getting to me." He scrubbed his face with his hand. "Why would you delete Facebook?"

"Well… I just," Bobby shrugged, "it was nothing but bullying. I was normal, I had normal friends, I was on all the sports teams, I was sort of popular. And I went on date with this girl, Judy-"

"A girl?" said Peter.

"I was a closeted popular freshman, dude, yeah. Popularity mattered more to me than honesty back then. We were at a party, a little drunk. And this guy, Rocky — awful guy — tried to talk Judy into leaving with him to smoke pot. Except pot was pretty obviously code for 'sexual assault' and she was drunker than me. So I stood up to Rocky and his friends told him to leave her alone and his boys tried to jump me, but I put myself between him and her and I put my hands up and suddenly he was encased in ice. His friends ran, Judy ran, I quickly busted him out of the ice, told someone to call an ambulance and ran home to tell my parents. They were calm and my dad even made a joke and said, 'So, I guess your foray into heterosexuality is over.' I was shocked that they knew. And they weren't angry that I was gay or a mutant. Then a literal angry mob turned up at the house to, like, lynch me or something. Then the cops came and said they were taking me into protective custody while they 'investigated the occurrence.' While we were at the police station, Mr. Summers and Professor Xavier came. The cops agreed to release me to them. They brought us here for a tour of the school and I stayed. My parents packed up my clothes and stuff for me and they're here, like, at least once a month. Plus, over the summer we went on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. I haven't been home but I still have Mom and Dad. And at first, I thought I would use Facebook to keep in touch with my friends but so many people just wrote horrible things about mutants on my timeline. People always talk about how it's so good for keeping in touch with old friends but… I don't have any old friends. So, I saved the pictures and deleted it."

"I'm really sorry, Bobby. That must have been really scary and really disheartening."

Bobby shrugged, "Not as bad as what you went through with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. That was horrific. I tried to watch the video. I got twenty minutes in and thought, 'I don't want to watch my friend live through this and he doesn't really want me to watch it.' I mean, I hope the government, and the cops, and The Bugle watch it. I hope it shuts people up and gets S.H.I.E.L.D. disbanded and the Avengers arrested but it felt really invasive for me to watch it. So I stopped."

"May is watching it."

Bobby looked at him, "You're her kid, of course she's watching it. She wants to know how to help you. I'm sure Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy are gonna watch it too. If there is anything you want me to know, cool, but I'm not gonna watch it."

"Don't watch it. It won't make anything different and it's really horrible," said Peter. "I don't want you to suffer through watching it. I already had to live it. Just keep me company."

"Quiet company or do you want to play, 'Destroy the Celebrity Couple'?"

"We could make Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Hilarie Barton happier than they make each other," said Peter.

"Yeah, and if they both walk away from the marriage with a new boyfriend, neither of them will be sad about it," agreed Bobby.

"Such a good plan," said Peter. He let himself go quiet.

And after a while, Bobby said, "I don't mind wittering, y'know? If you want to witter, I would be fine with it."

"You watched more than twenty minutes."

"Maybe a little more," agreed Bobby.

"Don't watch it, Bobby."

They lapsed into silence. Peter shut his eyes and listened to Bobby turning pages. After a little while, he said, "Why are people horrible?" He kept his eyes closed, breathing.

"My town or S.H.I.E.L.D.?" asked Bobby.

"Everyone," said Peter.

"I don't know. Because people always fear and blame the people who are different and people are just smart animals and animals are spiteful. And asking why is pointless. I'm sure that when Magneto was a little kid in Auschwitz he was asking why, too. People have asked this question forever, it's just that it's our turn and we're not going to get a better answer than anyone else has." That struck Peter as incredibly sad, he tried to breathe and Bobby said, "Oh, Jesus, don't cry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please don't cry." Peter felt the bed move and then Bobby said, "Dr. McCoy, I think I broke Spider-Man, he's crying."

"Did you touch him?" said Hank's voice, tinny and Peter guessed it was the walkie-talkie.

"No, we were just talking about bigotry."

"God's sake, Bobby. I'll be there in a minute," said Hank.

Peter tried to gather himself and then Hank was there, "Hey, you're awake again." Peter nodded, eyes still closed.

"I still don't know his name," said Bobby, "just his face. He's been in and out a few more times. And now he's crying."

"Okay, Bobby, I know that you live a sheltered life here, you were only in a normal high school for one semester so you didn't get to experiment with drugs very much, but you don't talk about heavy stuff if you and the other person are not the same level of stoned. Bigotry?" He sounded irritated.

"And the Holocaust?" said Bobby clarifying, sounding worried.

"God's sake," repeated Hank. There was a hand on Peter's. Peter opened his eyes and Hank smiled, "Hey, Spidey, stopped floating?"

"I didn't know Magneto was in Auschwitz."

Hank nodded, "Yeah, but he survived. He survived and he and Charles were best friends, and they're still kinda best friends even though Magneto makes nothing but bad choices. And bigotry sucks and that's why you surround yourself with kindness. Now, what you need to focus on is: Oreos or jerky? And OJ or lemonade?" he held out the two snacks. "May left about twenty minutes ago for the shop. You've been sleeping on and off and Bobby has actually been doing his homework, for once." Peter took the jerky.

"I want lemonade, but just stay here for a sec. Is my leg better yet? Do I gotta keep this thing on much longer? Like an hour, two?"

"No, Spidey. Most people wear it for six months, we talked about this, you'll be in it for six to eight weeks."

"I'd like to take it off now, please."

"No, Spidey, no taking it off. It's gonna help you walk normally again."

"Captain America broke my leg," said Peter.

"I know," said Hank.

"I keep saying it because it doesn't sound real: Captain America broke my leg," said Peter.

"He did. He broke your leg really badly and then he kept you in a small, cold room and starved you and humiliated you and didn't let you go to the bathroom by yourself. And that's why you watched the video about sponge baths so you can do it yourself. May and I will clean your leg. It happened; it really happened. Captain America broke your leg. And I'm sorry it happened but May, Bruce, I and possibly Dr. Strange are gonna help you get all fixed. You were very, very brave and you rescued yourself and May. You're still being very, very brave and I know you hate this, but you need to not touch the Ilizarov apparatus."

"Can we at least call it what it is? The metal torture device?"

"Okay, okay, the metal torture device is saving your leg after Captain America broke it. So don't touch it, okay?"

Peter nodded and held out the jerky, "Would you like some?"

Hank took a piece and said, "Anything else I should know before I get you lemonade?"

"Aunt May has a crush on you," said Peter.

"This is the third time you have told me," said Hank with a smile. "One time she was in the room. She was mortified. We agreed that it's because I'm taking care of her kid."

"You're a very handsome man."

"You've told him that all three times," said Bobby.

"I'm gonna get your lemonade," said Hank, standing from his crouch.

"Can I have caffeine in my lemonade? Because I know I can't have Coke, but I want the caffeine. I can feel not having caffeine, it's there in the back of my head under the drugs — the lack of caffeine."

Hank nodded, "I can add a tiny bit to your IV."

Hank left and Bobby said, "You have been in and out all day. They have messed with your IV continually. I think you have the most personalized drug cocktail in history."

"Neat," said Peter. "Have you been sitting here all day?"

"No, I've had three classes. But May was here then. I've been in and out. The cool thing about boarding school is that your classes are more intense but also shorter. We live with our teachers. Not too much homework and tons of instant tutoring and then it's a rich people mansion that you live in with all your friends: pool, horses, movie theater, gym, awesome lounges, giant very stocked kitchen — when there isn't a mask-less Spider-Man hanging out in it — we're always going hiking or skiing. And we all have superpowers. Mutant high is fun. Dude, if stuff doesn't work out at your school in Queens: come here. Although, that would be at least a forty-five-minute drive to school so that would suck. Because you're not leaving May."

"No, May and I are a team."

"It's good that you guys have each other."

Hank came back with a plastic cup full of lemonade with a straw and an injection that he added to Peter's IV. "Bobby, you have Comparative World Culture."

"I do," agreed Bobby. "And as much as I would love to be here and hear you spill the beans that May has a crush on Hank the next time you do that, Ms. Frost will skin me if I miss it… Plus it's one of my favorite classes. I'll be back."

Hank put a huge pile of files on the bed, "I'm keeping you company and getting some stuff done. I like Bruce, I do like him, and he's very welcome here. We're giving him two classes to teach. We're talking about having him here permanently… but I think I need a bigger lab. Because that is not a lab for two people. So, I'm keeping you company because I need to not be in my one person lab with a second person."

Then he took out his thermometer. As Hank ran it over his forehead Peter said, "Is that true or are you just making an excuse so I don't feel bad about you babysitting?"

"You're in and out. You keep trying to stand up. Babysitting is not beneath me. I'm the guy but I'm not the same kinda guy as Dr. Strange was back when he was the guy."

Hank was sorting the papers and Peter said, "What work is that?"

"It's actually tests from different classes. I'm a little behind."

"Sorry, that's on me."

"No apologies needed; I like hanging out with you. And your leg, which Captain America broke, was far more important than handing back tests to kids who aren't waiting for their end of year grades: they live here; they can wait."

"Do you like being a teacher?"

"Um… I don't know if I would like it anywhere else. I grew up in this house. Back then it wasn't really a school, when it was me, Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Warren it was just Charles doing this best to give outcasts a safe place and an education. When Charles asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I said I wanted to be overeducated. Charles helped me to become who I am. Then, I worked at labs, then I went blue. And I coulda worked at labs in India, where people are less racist but Charles said, 'I really need a faculty as the student body is growing.' And I thought, instead of being tolerated in a lab, I could be in a place I loved with a full lab and almost unlimited funds, surrounded by people I like who like me. I like teaching these kids, and helping them, and hanging out with them. So, here, I love being a teacher."

"If you give me a key, I can help you grade them."

"You aren't allowed to strain your eyes like that."

"I'm tired," said Peter.

"Take a nap," said Hank. "I'll be right here."

Later, when he roused, he heard Hank saying, "I think it's important that we say it. He's having a hard time. He didn't even expect Stephen to believe him. We need to say it because he's still processing it. We accepted it without repeating it. He keeps saying it so we need to say it. It's important we repeat it."

"How are his levels?" asked May.

"Not good… I think — I hope I'm wrong — but I think that kidney is going to give up soon."

"Imma lose my kidney?" asked Peter, opening his eyes.

"Peter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you like that. I'm hoping I'm wrong. I want to be wrong. I'm going to watch your blood and urine and we're gonna keep our figures crossed. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

"Dinner is in ten," said May.

"Can I come downstairs?"

"Not yet," said Hank.

"But I'm bored."

"Tomorrow, I'm going to bring you down to the lab for scans and if you're healing is on track, you can spend some time in the library."

"I'm not good at just being in bed."

"I know," said Hank, "but three Avengers beat you up. Captain America broke your leg. S.H.I.E.L.D. starved you into a hurt kidney. Tony Stark could have saved you anytime he deigned to. You need to be kind to yourself."

He nodded, "Okay. I'm better than they are. I'll take good care of me."

"Thank you," said Hank.

"I'm gonna go get you dinner," said May.

"Big portion, please, I'm supposed to be kind to myself."

"I made multiple meatloaves: one is just for you."

"First a whole cake now a whole meatloaf," said Peter.

"Captain America broke your leg: you get giant servings of your favorite foods," said May.

Hank moved to take his blood and Peter said, "Do you need me to pee in a cup?"

"You have already peed in a cup twice for me today," said Hank. "In about four days we're gonna lower these drugs just a little, until then, I foresee us having many of the same exchanges over and over."

"Sor-"

"What's the rule?"

"No apologizing… He didn't," said Peter.

"Who didn't?"

"Captain America, he never said sorry, not even once."

"Because he's a bastard," said Hank.

"None of them said sorry."

"They hurt you willingly and with full knowledge of who you were. They aren't sorry. Maybe they're guilty after the fact but they weren't feeling guilt when they were doing it. Now, they're guilty, not sorry."

"Who does that?"

"Bastards," said Hank.

"They hurt me."

"Yes, the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. hurt you and you are still here. You're so brave. Repeat that for me."

"I am brave," agreed Peter. "I'm very brave."

Hank nodded, "Exactly."

May and Bobby came in with trays and Peter said, "I'm very brave."

"Yeah, you are," agreed Bobby. "I am trying the meatloaf with raisins, water chestnuts and pine nuts, so I feel a little brave too."

"It's the best," said Peter. He sat up slowly, moving carefully, not jostling his leg.

"Hank, Bruce is bringing up a third tray, you're staying. My meatloaf is unconventional, my late husband was not a fan but my kid loves it and he needs people so, get comfortable, the five of us are eating dinner."

"Great, thank you for dinner. We're supposed to be having Scott's turkey casserole. This is going to be an excellent change of pace," said Hank, sitting down in a chair by Peter's bed.

"I feel like we could trade one of the horses for a cook," said Bobby.

"We used to take turns back when we were kids," said Hank. "We all pitched in. Back before this was a real school. He was a worse cook when he was fifteen."

"It kind of weirds me out that you have all been forever," said Bobby.

"We went to college," said Hank. "I went to a lot of colleges. Y'know, Logan and Ms. Grey dated."

"Ew, stop, gross," said Bobby. He settled at the foot of the bed as Bruce came up with a tray covered with drinks, paper napkins and forks.

They all settled down and Peter poured mushroom and onion gravy on his mashed potatoes. He took a bite and said, "That's really good. It's so good, I almost want to cry but I'm not gonna cry because my nose will get stuffy." The raisins were juicy, the pine nuts had the right feeling of give between his teeth and the water chestnuts had the right crunch and it was perfect. "Thank you, May."

"You're welcome, honey."

"What's going on in class?" Peter asked Bobby as he ate.

Bobby told them about classes and made Peter laugh. Peter finished his meatloaf and then started taking bites off of other people's plates.

"Seconds?" asked May.

"We have seconds?" asked Peter.

"I made three meatloaves. We have a whole meatloaf that we haven't cut into," she took a breath, "Captain America and S.H.I.E.L.D. starved you for eight days. You lost almost fifty pounds. I made three meatloaves."

"Thank you, Aunt May. I would like, like, half another meatloaf," said Peter, "please."

"I'll get it," offered Bruce.

"Thank you, Bruce," Peter said, and then focused on his potatoes.

He lost time at some point and then it was morning. The toilet had a cup on top of it and a note that said, "Peter, is it daylight? If so, pee into this cup and walkie-talkie me." Peter looked out the window and saw daylight so he peed in the cup before washing his hands, face and teeth. He wall-crawled back to bed, having figured out a way to do it and move the IV pole with him. The walkie-talkie was on the far side of the bedside table so Peter strapped on one web shooter and used it to grab the walkie-talkie.

Softly he said, "Morning, Hank, May is asleep but I peed in the cup."

"Okay, try to go back to sleep, I'll be silent," said Hank.

Peter pulled the blanket over his head and breathed out slowly. The next time he woke up, May was gone and there was a box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts on the bedside table. He ate two before going to the bathroom, brushing his hair and re-brushing his teeth. He dressed very slowly and carefully in clean boxers, gym shorts with pockets and a punny shirt. He ate two more before using the walkie-talkie. "Spider-Man to Hank, Spider-Man to Hank. Come in, Hank."

"Hey, kid, you awake?"

"Yeah, and I'm four Pop-Tarts in."

"Okay, Bruce and I are coming up to get you."

Peter strapped on his other web shooter and then Hank and Bruce were there with the gurney. "Morning, Docs."

"How are you feeling?" asked Bruce.

"Comfy and there were Pop-Tarts on my bedside table, so that was a nice way to wake up. Can we bring the comfy quilt to the lab? It's cozy and comfy."

"We can totally bring the comfy cozy quilt," said Hank as he and Bruce moved him very carefully onto the gurney.

"Thank you," said Peter, pulling on his mask. They brought him down to the lab and cleaned his leg. Then they started tests.

Looking at his blood under a microscope Hank sighed. "I'm really not happy about your labs… like, at all. So, we're going to take a look with ultrasound."

"Okay, so what happens if it is bad?"

"If it's bad, we remove it, laparoscopically, it's going to be the same type of tiny incision like yesterday," said Hank. "Your other kidney is a-okay and you can lead a normal life. But you can't drink a ton of alcohol habitually. I want you to be able to drink too much in college, like everyone else. It's a weird thing for a doctor to say, but it's true. I want you to have a totally normal life. But with your rate of healing your kidney should be doing better. I'm going to use the ultrasound to look at your kidney to see what blood flow it has."

"You think it's not getting blood flow," said Peter, "that means it's dead right? Like there is a dead thing in me?"

"The only reason I can think of that would explain why, with your rate of healing, your kidney function isn't improving is that it's dead, yeah."

"I don't want a dead organ inside me," said Peter.

Hank smiled, "It's okay, if we see that it isn't functioning anymore, I will call the team we had in here yesterday and we'll take it out first thing in the morning."

"But is it going bad inside me, like meat?"

"No, no, we could leave it in there forever," said Bruce. "But it could develop other problems down the line and, I think, it's best to just snip it out now. And you might as well do it while you're laid up from your other surgery. But, it's up to you."

"Okay, okay," Peter bit his lip and nodded. "Y'know I'm a science kid."

"You invented your own polymer and built web shooters," said Bruce. "You're an awesome science kid."

"But it's all chemistry and engineering. I don't know this stuff. When May talks about the hospital it's about the jerk pediatrics guy or the nice nurse in the pathology lab." said Peter. "So, like, does ultrasound hurt? Because when I first came here you said that the ultrasound would be too painful so I had to have a CT. And I don't know what it does, because on Grey's Anatomy they just use it on pregnant ladies and it doesn't look like it hurts, but will it hurt?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter, I didn't mean to make you feel left out. I'm sorry, I should have explained it. That is my fault and I apologize. This is a Doppler ultrasound." Hank got out a machine and perched at the edge of Peter's gurney as he started explaining how it worked and showed him that they could put it on Peter's skin and hear his pulse. He showed him how you could hear his blood moving in his organs. "Are you ready? We can wait to do this until May comes back from your house? She went to do some laundry and clean out the fridge."

"It's just listening to blood," said Peter. "We don't need May." He moved the little wand thing and then it was quieter, and quieter. "That's not good. Is that anything or is that just the stuff around it?"

"If your kidney does have any blood flow it's negligible. You should be healing and you aren't. I'm sorry but your kidney has failed. Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon and S.H.I.E.L.D. killed your kidney."

Peter nodded. "I want it out. So we'll do exactly like we did yesterday? Get up early, come down here, have the injection and you'll put it in a jar for me?"

"Yeah, the surgery takes about three hours," said Hank and started to explain the whole surgery.

Bruce added extra details and Peter pulled his quilt around himself. May came and Peter greeted her by saying, "We have to get rid of my kidney. It died."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. killed your kidney," she sighed. "So what would you like to do? It can be left alone." She said, "We can wait to see if it's a problem further down the line."

"No, Aunt May, I don't want a dead thing in me. I don't like it. We're getting rid of it in the morning. I don't want it, May."

She nodded, "Okay, honey, Hank and Bruce, what are the risks?"

"Very minimal," said Hank. "We'll do it laparoscopically. The anesthesia is not much of a concern."

"I want the surgery, May," said Peter, firmly. "I want this thing that they killed out of me so it can be over. I don't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to still have an impact on my body."

"If you want the surgery, then okay. You are in charge of your body," she said.

"Six AM, tomorrow morning," said Hank.

"Will you be able to arrange it so quickly?" asked May.

"The team I work with either are — or are related to — mutants. Spider-Man needs to get a kidney S.H.I.E.L.D. killed out of his body: they'll come and they aren't charging you or me a penny. These are our people and we all back each other's plays. To quote your kid, everyone needs kindness sometimes. We're in this together."

"You watched it?"

"I kind of have to, kid, I'm your doctor. I'm about halfway through."

"That sucks."

"Seeing their cruelty sucks, seeing you in so much pain sucks but knowing what you went through so I can help you better does not suck."

"Is that why you are all saying Captain America hurt me? Because before, I was the only one saying it and now you're all saying it."

"We weren't acknowledging it the way we should have," said May. "We were focused on your injuries not on how you got them. It was Hank who realized we were doing you a disservice when we didn't address it directly. They hurt you."

"Yeah. Superheroes aren't supposed to do that. I still… I lived it in real time. I was there. It was my flesh, and my bones, and my hunger but I still can't believe it happened. Superheroes don't do that." He looked at Bruce and asked, "Has Mr. Stark said anything to you, Bruce?"

"Peter, he hasn't tried to contact me since I left the Tower. He knows I am inches away from Hulking out and attacking him in green skin. Do you want me to send him a message?"

"No, I just wondered," said Peter.

"I think he's aiming to get arrested. I started to watch the video," said Bruce. "His introduction basically begs the authorities to arrest him."

"There's an introduction?" asked Peter.

"Yeah," agreed Bruce. "Full disclosure: I didn't make it through the intro. I was getting too angry and I thought, 'Wait until after all of Peter's surgeries to watch this.' I can't get angry until after you've had all your surgeries."

"How long is the introduction?" asked Peter. Hank sighed, understanding where the conversation was leading and Peter said, "I know that screen time sets my healing back but with my leg and my kidney, I've got nothing to do but heal so I want to see this. Please."

"Okay, but no Facebook," said Hank, typing on a tablet that had sat on the counter.

"Deal," said Peter, accepting the tablet. He rested back, snuggling into his quilt and saw that Hank had lined up the movie for him so he could just hit play.

There on the screen was Mr. Stark. He looked tired and he said, "A long time ago, I made a weapon so horrible that I, even when I was called the Merchant of Death and was a legal arms dealer, couldn't bring myself to sell. I hid it. Several months ago, I became friends with Spider-Man. A couple of weeks ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. found out about the weapon and demanded I give it to them. I refused because that weapon could never be used. So, three Avengers, acting in their capacity as S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, kidnapped a fifteen-year-old boy in an effort to find out where the weapon was. They thought that Spider-Man knew or that I would give it to them as ransom. Their attack was not caught on film.

"Spider-Man is a high school sophomore. He was leaving school when he was attacked by Falcon, Black Widow and Captain America. They viciously and without mercy, beat, drugged and kidnapped him. With full knowledge that he was being held by S.H.I.E.L.D. in a black site prison, I did not give them the weapon nor did I destroy it. I started looking for him, instead of acting quickly to protect him, I played a long game to rescue him. For eight days, Spider-Man was held in horrific conditions after receiving potentially life-threatening injuries at the hands of Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson.

"You are watching one of three versions of recorded proof of what happened to him. They all have this same introduction. The shortest highlights the very worst of what happened and is three hours long. The second is nineteen hours and shows every active moment of horror he lived through. The last is two hundred and one hours. It shows every moment he was held captive that was caught on camera, and the time after the Avengers launched what we thought was a rescue mission. Make no mistake, the mid-length version does not capture the full scope of the horror this fifteen-year-old lived through. Much of his torture was when he was alone, in pain, being hurt by forces he couldn't see. There was no rest nor respite for him except when he was unconscious. Even trips to the bathroom were overseen by armed guards who stood over his shoulder while he relieved himself and would not allow him to wash his face or hands. He was given no access to methods of personal hygiene for eight days.

"Each video contains moments on a quinjet after I thought we had rescued him. But we did not rescue him. Not only did we not actively help him in that time but he was rescuing himself. Our treatment of him, after getting him on the quinjet — and my behavior especially — was little better than what he had received while held illegally by S.H.I.E.L.D.. After he left the quinjet, S.H.I.E.L.D. seized the weapon. Only then, far too late, did I destroy it.

"These videos will remain online for three weeks and then be taken down. These are presented for the public record but there shouldn't be a visual account of his torture just floating around the web. This is not for viewing pleasure, it's to expose wrongdoing on a massive scale. It is encoded to make it impossible for viewers to download. I believe all participants in the brutal abuse this young man was subjected to will be arrested and prosecuted; I hope so.

"I have altered Spider-Man's face and voice to protect his identity. I did not pixelate his face because I thought his emotional reactions were part of the evidence of what we did. I did not manipulate his expressions just altered the face those emotions were expressed upon. He is unrecognizable from what he looks like in his everyday life. I have also bleeped out certain statements and words that would compromise his identity: his name, his address and what he calls his mother. He uses a term for his mother that is atypical and hearing it would help narrow down the list of possible suspects for who Spider-Man is. At one point Director Fury referred to her in the same way, as a weapon, to scare Spider-Man into compliance. Later, Clint Barton used it as a method of comfort. He is a fifteen-year-old who has been heralded by the police as a hero and should keep his secret identity safe so that he can have a full life, though I doubt he will ever fully recover from his time in captivity.

"He is not in contact with me, by end of watching this, you will fully understand why. But I reached out to his mother, asking her permission to place this on the web. She stipulated that it must be on the record that Bruce Banner and Clint Barton desperately, repeatedly tried to make me hand over the weapon or destroy it. Both men tried to help Spider-Man. Spider-Man still likes and respects them. Clint quit S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers and has left the state. Bruce packed up his possessions and has gone to help Spider-Man's doctors at the Xavier School for Talented Youngsters.

"I hope he is recovering. I'm not privy to any information about his health. I hope he recovers, but it is possible that we may never see Spider-Man again. He was so emaciated and he could barely walk when I saw him last. I don't know if he will ever be physically capable of the incredible feats we have witnessed because he was brutally, physically destroyed. So this is the public record of why no one saw Spider-Man swinging through Queens recently. If that young man does not return to the swinging life, know that the fault rests on S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers' shoulders. S.H.I.E.L.D. was set up by my father and Peggy Carter to find their missing friend, Captain America. It has accomplished that goal. Maybe it's outlived its usefulness. The Avengers were set up to save the world but the X-Men are the ones saving that boy. We did this to him. We did this to a kind, good, honorable fifteen-year-old child. We did this to a child. We're all going to hell and we should all be going to prison. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers are not to be trusted with the safety of one kid. What good can we offer the rest of the world?"

The screen went black and Peter stopped the video, not wanting to see the rest. He didn't want to see it from outside his body. He held out the tablet to Hank saying, "Thanks, Hank. I needed to see that."

Hank and Bruce started examining him, making sure his healing was still on track. He spent most of his day in and out of consciousness in the lab, being handed high-calorie snacks and getting to pick the lab's music as Hank and Bruce worked together. Bruce and Hank both left at different times to teach.

"What class are you teaching?" Peter asked Bruce when the man handed him a bowl of chocolate mousse.

"I'm just taking some off Hank so he can focus on you and his other projects," said Bruce with a smile. "This way everything still gets done. But Charles asked me about Eastern cultures and ethics. So it looks like I might end up here, teaching some science and some social studies. Which would be great. The Avengers are done. I would very happily be a teacher with a lab and help out the X-Men with the green guy. I was a junior professor before the gamma rays. So, it could actually be a really great step for me: superheroing and teaching. I could be really happy and useful here. I might take over one of the labs upstairs, just so that Hank and I are close enough to collaborate without getting un each other's feet."

"That's cool," said Peter. "I'm sorry the Avengers are done."

"A mix of too much stubbornness and too much rule following. Big personalities that never really meshed. Shouldn't have people working for different masters. Half of them being in S.H.I.E.L.D. was just a bad idea. You can't be a team when you aren't one. Everyone had different agendas. It doesn't work that way. The X-Men are a team and they're willing to welcome me. I need a team that doesn't care about Hulk and the X-Men don't. Tony told me to strut. I am not a man who struts; Hulk changes nothing. The people in this house know that being different, having something extra, doesn't change who you are. This is better."

Later it was May who was there with an Eggo waffle PB&J, a scoop of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles. She offered to let him go up to the library but he was really comfy and warm and he said, "I feel good, cosy with lots of drugs and people keep bringing me snacks and it's the right noise level. I would like to stay here. Is that okay, Docs?"

"Of course, Peter, you're very welcome here," said Hank with a smile.

"We like keeping an eye on you," agreed Bruce.

May replaced his IV bag with a new one and Peter said, "May, when d'ya'gotta go back to work?"

"FMLA," said May.

"Language," said Peter, "do you kiss me with that mouth?"

"Family Medical Leave Act," she said with a smile. "You can take up to twelve weeks of unpaid leave for family stuff without them cutting your benefits."

"Okay, but what about the mortgage?" he asked.

"You let me worry about the mortgage," said May. "You don't have to worry about it."

"Okay... that sounds fake, but okay."

"Don't talk in memes: it confuses the uninitiated," she said with a smile

"I live in a house filled with kids," said Hank, "I know the dankest memes."

Peter laughed and then groaned, "Laughing makes me hurt."

"Sorry," said Hank.

"I'm a freshman, not a sophomore," said Peter.

"I'm sure Tony Stark remembers that; he's throwing people off your scent," said Hank.

"You're kind of a sophomore now, though, if you aren't going to go back to school, then you're a rising sophomore," said May.

"I'm going to have so much work to catch up on," groaned Peter.

"On the bright side," said Hank, "your head will heal before the rest of your body so you'll be in a school, bored, still recovering with a ton of teachers around to help you."

"That doesn't make me feel better: I'm going to need to be in your care for so long that doing five weeks of work won't be hard."

"Yeah, remember when I told Charles that you were going to be staying for at least a week?" asked Hank. "That was an adorable idea. Sorry, Peter, but hey, you and Bobby get on well. That's great."

"I miss Ned and MJ."

"You can't Skype or text but there's this crazy way that adults communicate with each other. It's called talking on the phone. I know you millennials are irritated by that when you can text more concisely but, hey, it's something, right?" said Bruce.

"I enjoy the phone: you get more detail and you get to hear their voice," said May.

"Time is it? I'll call after school," said Peter

"It's three thirty," said May, "He should be off the subway and walking through Queens." Peter dug his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. Sure, he couldn't look at the screen, but that didn't stop him from carrying it around with him. He picked Ned's number from the list and hit send.

Ned picked up, bubbly as ever. "Peter, is that really you?"

"Yeah, I told the doctor I missed you and he pointed out that talking isn't texting. I kinda forgot phones make calls. How are you?"

"Dude, how am I?" Ned repeated, stressing the I. "How are you? You go missing and then get injured and you're asking how I am? How are you?"

"My concussion is too bad to fly. I'm kicking around a very cushy hospital with feather pillows, awesome doctors who are the best and constant snacks."

"How did you get such a bad concussion?"

"Stood on a high lab table to fix a lightbulb that was flickering, slipped and — with my height added to the height of the table — my head hit the ground from eleven feet up. It was bad. I can't read, or look at screens or even do a Sudoku. Thinking has been outlawed."

"So, um, have you heard about Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, I'm not allowed much screen time but I watched Mr. Stark's introduction."

"So horrible. I watched ten minutes of it and thought… am I an idiot, Peter?"

"Ned, you're one of the smartest people I know," he replied.

"Well, for seven months I haven't realized that my best friend is Spider-Man. And then there you were, face very well manipulated but still you as they hurt you. Your voice altered but still your speech patterns from when you're scared. 'Aunt May' is a non-standard thing to call you mom. You were wearing your 'Physics is Fundamental' shirt. No geeky guy should have as many muscles as you have. You don't do sports. Tony Stark is your mentor and his. You have a concussion and so does he. You love Queens; he protects Queens … the only answer is that I'm an idiot. MJ didn't see it. She watched the two-hour version, said she puked 'cause it was so distressing but she didn't see your face in the video. I guess we've only known her a year. I have known you since we were six… I thought Spider-Man was older. But he's not older, he's you. So cut the lies. No denials no bull: how is your leg?"

Peter took a breath, he stroked his comfy, soft quilt and said, "It's really, really broken. Hank had to re-break it, I heal really fast and it healed all wrong and painful while they kept me prisoner. But, Hank pinned it all back together. And I'm on so many drugs I don't feel it. I barely feel my face. And when I came here I thought I lost forty-two pounds but I had eaten when Hank weighed me. I lost forty-six pounds. I weighed ninety-six pounds when I got here. Don't watch it; don't watch it: it gets so much worse. But, Ned, you can't tell anybody. Like, you're a blabbermouth. That's why I never told you. I love you; I trust you; you suck keeping secrets."

"I will keep this secret. But, does May know? 'Cause I feel it's important that May knows."

"May knows she's here, helping with all my surgeries and stuff and taking care of me."

"All of your surgeries? How many is all?"

"Well, yesterday, they removed my appendix and fixed my leg. But one of my kidneys went into organ failure, because S.H.I.E.L.D. starved me, so we're cutting it out tomorrow."

"Dude, this medical show I was watching said you can leave a dead kidney in place."

"I don't want it in me, Ned, seriously, so gross to have a dead organ."

"Okay, but you're going to lose weight again: however much a dead kidney weighs."

That made Peter laugh, "Sick joke, seriously, also laughing kinda hurts." He took a breath, "You should watch the last five minutes of the video, just to see how bad I look. Then, when you see me in real life, I'll look better than you expected instead of so much worse than when I last saw you."

"Dude, when can I see you? Did you say no to Skype because you can't hide that you're injured with an image?"

"No, Hank really said no to Skype for the sake of my concussion. I'm not going to be home for a while. My leg is in a big metal trap thing to help it heal and that's, like, weeks of not getting far."

"Well, can I come see you or is X-Mansion only for superheroes? May is there… but she's also kind of a superhero. So can I come or is it only superheroes?"

"I don't know, let me ask the grownups." He looked up from his comfy cozy quilt and saw the others in the room were staring at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Am I bleeding?" Into the phone, he said, "Everyone is staring at me, Ned, I don't know why."

"Are you on so many drugs you're going to tell everyone who you are?" asked Hank.

"This isn't the drugs. If your best friend point blank says that he knows you're Spider-Man, and he points out all the reasons he knows, you can either lie and try to gaslight him or just admit it. There's a difference between a lie of omission and a lie-lie. I'm not going to lie-lie to Ned. Can Ned visit or does he have to wait?" Hank held out his hand and Peter spoke into the phone. "Hank wants to talk to you." He handed the phone over.

Hank said, "Hi Ned, this is Hank McCoy, I'm Peter's doctor… Yes, Beast… Yes… see that's actually a problem. I want you to be able to visit Peter but this is not a superhero hang out. This is our home. You can't be excited when you come here. We're not on display. We have people who look or move differently than the norm and this is not a zoo, or museum or anything else. We have kids younger than you and they have been stared at too much. So I want to let you visit Peter but can you be chill and nice and smiley and not stare or freak out — either with gushing emotions or a shocked face?... Okay, well, May has been coming home frequently to swap out clothes, check the mail. The weekend is coming up you can come up for the afternoon. He's in and out though, up and down. He's very drugged up because Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon and S.H.I.E.L.D. tortured him. I'm going to hand off the phone."

He gave the phone to May who said, "Hey, Ned… I know, Saturday… Okay… yeah… I'll ask. Peter, Ned wants to bring you food instead of flowers and he wants to know if you want a number five or a number six?"

"Number five, with pickles," said Peter.

"He says, a number five with pickles. Okay, I'll see you then. I'm gonna hang up instead of handing you back because Peter looks like he needs a nap and he's done with the phone for the day." She hung up and said, "What's a number five?"

"A sandwich at Delmar's. The number six is good when you're in the right mood. But, number five — roast beef, fresh mozzarella, roasted red pepper, fried egg, pickles and pesto aioli on seven grain — always perfect. And, on top of all that, it's five bucks. Way, way better than flowers, a very solid call on Ned's part."

He drifted off for a while and the next thing he knew, May was crouching in front of him, stroking his hair. "Hey, honey, Logan is barbequing. If you feel up to it, we can put you in the wheelchair and you could come eat outside with everyone."

"I would like that, yes please." May brought a wheelchair to him and he carefully maneuvered himself into it. There's a leg part that moves upwards, keeping his leg stretched out in front of him, not elevated but up. He pulled on his mask before May turned him toward the elevator.

Upstairs, in the beautiful garden, he was immediately issued with two plates by Hank. One had two hot dogs, a cheeseburger, grilled chicken, salmon and a bratwurst. The other had potato salad, pasta salad, coleslaw, corn-on-the-cob, baked beans, barbequed asparagus and a baked potato. "Thank you, Hank. Thanks, Logan, for cooking," he called to the man who was still barbequing.

"We Canadians have it down to an art," replied the man.

Peter finished both his plates and had a second bratwurst and another potato. "You're fasting after two AM," said Hank.

"Are you having another surgery?" asked a nice girl, Kitty.

"Dead kidney," said Peter.

He thought that maybe after that he went into a food coma because it felt like no time had passed but it was morning and time for surgery. Smiling, May brought him down to the operating room and said, "I'll be right outside the whole time, honey. I have an hour left of that horrible movie and then you'll wake up and be high as a kite, okay?" He nodded. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I'm not scared this time. I'll eat what everyone else eats."

"I'm making tuna melts," said Hank.

"I like tuna melts," said Peter. He hugged May and said, "I know the video scares you, but I'm here, and I've gained weight and everyone here is real nice and would never leave me in a cold place to starve to death. And you, you take care of me all the time. You always have so, right now, Hank and Bruce and these nice people are gonna help you take care of me."

She kissed the top of his masked head. "I love you."

"I love you too, May."

He moved himself to the operating table as she left and he rested back saying, "Okay, everyone. Like they say on May's favorite show: it's a beautiful day to save lives."

"No more Grey's Anatomy: it will rot your brain," said Bruce.

The next thing he knew he felt worse than before and May said, "That's just the anesthetic wearing off. You'll feel floaty soon. Y'want the good news, the good news or the great news?"

"Um," Peter swallowed water she held out to him. "Good?"

"Well, the good news is, the surgery was textbook. Easy peasy, in and out."

Peter nodded, "And the good news?"

"They've all be arrested: Widow, Falcon, Cap, Fury and Stark. And then a bunch of other people who are high up in S.H.I.E.L.D.. Everyone. And the Queens police are already insisting that your real name had better not come out in court."

"What were they charged with?"

"Everything from willful disregard for a child's wellbeing and assault to torture and false imprisonment. The charges are as long as a Dickens novel. And there is a lot of talk about the government shuttering S.H.I.E.L.D.."

"Really?"

"Really," said May. "They're all in jail as of this morning."

"Amazing," said Peter. "Were they were actually arrested? Like, with handcuffs?"

"Yep, all the bells and whistles," she said.

"Are there pictures?"

"So many pictures and video. You can look at them all in a couple of weeks when your head doesn't hurt from a screen. That's the great news: you have your whole like to watch it; they're all going to prison so they don't get to watch the internet."

Nothing had changed, but for the first time since the teacher told him the principal wanted to see him, he finally breathed out.

---

NOTE: In Spider-man vs. The Avengers, when Steve hit Peter in the leg, I expected it to break his leg. In that story it didn't, but it sent my mind spinning. I only slightly altered Steve's speech from JuliaCarver14's story. And Natasha did hush Peter while drugging him in her work. Totally check out Spider-man vs. The Avengers - it's awesome!

If you liked this, please leave a comment! I would love hearing from you!

NB: There's a Josie and the Pussycats reference in here that comes up twice in this story and no one in the comments has mentioned it. That makes me think a teen movie from 2001 had less of an impact on people than I think it did. And then I wonder if I'm just older than people reading this.