For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Tony reminded himself to stay calm. He ran through every breathing exercise in his repertoire while a voice which sounded suspiciously like Pepper's echoed in his head, reminding him that his recently repaired heart did not need to be put under any additional stress. He settled for clenching and unclenching his fists as he sat in the backseat of the car, silently fuming to himself. The guilt which had been gnawing at his stomach ever since he saw the remains of his jet had grown exponentially through his conversation with Toomes.

Toomes had said little of interest at first, mostly snarling at Tony and the perceived injustice of the wealth distribution in America, as though Tony were personally to blame for that. When it became clear that Toomes was unwilling to shed any light on the night's events, Tony had turned and started to walk away. The words Toomes had yelled to his retreating back, however, caused him to stop as his blood ran cold.

"You'd better find the kid soon, Stark; I don't think he'll get far in his condition."

Tony had whipped around, quickly schooling his features to hide his panic. "What are you talking about", Tony growled, advancing to where Toomes sat propped against a crate.

"Your little pet spider is tougher than he looks, but he took a lot of damage tonight. He didn't look very steady on his feet when he left."

Tony had studied the other man's face for any hint of a lie, but had found none. "Why are you telling me this," Tony had wondered aloud, "why would you want to help him?" Tony had almost missed the quiet response.

"I told him not to mess with me, not to interfere in my business. I was just doing what I had to do, I told him to walk away. I wish he had listened. He seems like a good kid, Stark, I don't want him to wind up dead because of me."

Tony had instructed his own people to collect Toomes' wingsuit and to remove it from the scene to be taken to the new Avengers facility upstate. They bound Toomes' wrists with plastic ties, and cleaned away as many of the webs as possible. When the New York Police arrived, Tony had informed them that Toomes was merely an opportunistic scavenger who had arrived at the scene of the crash to raid the wreckage. By implying that the crash was the result of a mechanical failure rather than anything more nefarious, Tony hoped that he would be able to leave out any mention of Peter's involvement in the incident.

With the cleanup underway, Tony had motioned to Happy to bring the car around while dialling Peter's number on his cellphone. When it went straight to voicemail, Tony had felt his anxiety increase. He couldn't help but picture Peter alone and in pain, dressed in his flimsy homemade tracksuit, and unable to call for help.

"Where do you want to start looking, boss?" Happy asked from the front seat, easing the car down the street past the row of Stark Industries vans and emergency vehicles lining the curb. Not having really considered his answer, Tony had surprised even himself when he answered immediately. "The kid wouldn't want to worry his aunt by not coming home. Even if he's hurt, I'm sure he would have tried to get back to his apartment."

Happy drove toward Queens as quickly as the late-night city traffic would allow, while keeping an eye on his agitated boss in the backseat. He repeated a silent prayer to anyone who would listen that Peter would be alright. He had been assigned to watch over the kid, and when he had needed help tonight Happy hadn't even answered the phone. Happy shook his head, thinking about how annoyed he had been earlier that night when he had seen Peter's number appear on his screen. Months of listening to rambling voicemails from the kid had worn Happy's patience, and when Peter had called in the middle of the frantic moving preparations Happy had barely refrained from picking up the phone and venting his annoyance on the kid. Happy silently promised himself that if Tony would still trust him to watch over Peter after tonight's events, that he would treat the boy better in the future.

The sun had started to rise over the city, unnoticed by the two men each lost in their thoughts. Before long, they arrived in Queens. As soon as the car whispered to the curb in front of a familiar apartment building, Tony practically flung himself out of the backseat. After parking the car, Happy was forced to jog after him.

When he arrived at the correct apartment, however, Tony found himself pausing. He dreaded what he might find behind that door. He didn't know if he would be able to handle the sight of Peter hurt, especially when it was entirely his own fault for removing the safeguards which he himself had designed to keep the kid safe.

Steeling himself for what he might find, Tony rapped sharply on the door. Mere seconds later, the door opened a fraction, and the anxious face of Peter's Aunt May appeared. "Mr. Stark? I…what are you doing…can I help you?" May's tone of surprise and confusion had become downright hostile in the time it took her to utter those few words. Tony forced his best "Tony Stark" smile on his face, and surreptitiously eased his foot against the door to prevent May from slamming it closed.

"Is Peter here?"

"Yes, he's in bed. It's not even seven o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, and he's fifteen. I don't expect to see him for a couple more hours at least."

"I'm here to talk to Peter about internship business", Tony said brusquely. May's eyes narrowed immediately, and she took a step forward. "Peter told me that you terminated that internship weeks ago." There was no doubt about the hostility in May's tone now; she was blatantly glaring at Tony as she spoke. "It devastated him when he lost that internship, and I won't allow you to just waltz in here like nothing happened."

Tony tried not to show his exasperation at being kept from checking on Peter. "It relates to something he was working on before the internship ended. There were some…developments last night."

May sighed and stepped aside, allowing Tony to step into the apartment properly. "I am not letting you in because I want to," May said in a warning tone. "I'm letting you in because I'm sure that he would want to talk to you. I'm also sure that he would appreciate the apology that I'm certain you're going to offer him for the way you've treated him."

Tony nodded at May's words, impressed by how fiercely the woman protected her nephew. "I am definitely planning to apologize to him." That much was true, Tony did owe the kid an apology, just not for the reasons May was aware of.

He was about to speak again when he noticed May gathering her purse and jacket and heading toward the door of the apartment. "I have to go to work, Mr. Stark, as much as I don't feel comfortable leaving Peter alone with you and your…bodyguard?" She gave Happy a sidelong glance as she passed him. "Please refrain from upsetting my nephew any further. He's a good kid, he doesn't deserve to be trifled with by you." Tony said nothing as he watched her leave. There was truly nothing he could say in his own defence.

As soon as the apartment door closed he turned to face the door he knew led into Peter's small bedroom. Tony opened the door just wide enough to slip through, then quickly closed it behind him. He took in the sight of Peter's tidy room, so unlike what he would have expected from a teenaged boy, before his eyes settled on the form curled on the lower bunk. Peter had his back to the door, and the blankets pulled right up around his ears. A quick glance from the doorway gave the impression that Peter was merely asleep, but Tony could hear Peter's rapid, pained breaths over the noise of the city filtering in through the open window.

In only a few short strides, Tony found himself standing beside Peter's bed. He lowered himself down gingerly and perched beside Peter's hip. "Hey, Pete," he called softly. "It's Tony." Peter slowly turned his head, and Tony barely refrained from gasping when he finally saw the kid. Peter's face was almost entirely obscured by scrapes, gashes and bruises in various states of healing. With great effort, he tamped down on his reactions and threw up the façade he normally wore, so as not to alarm the kid.