Author's Note: So, funny story: This is why we don't edit half asleep, friends, XD: I was re-reading through chapter two of this and came across this line: "Peter stands there for another step, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot", but when I found it was this: "Peter stands there for another step, awkwardly from foot to food." Food. Not foot. Whoops. XD!

#Nailed it.

Thank you guys so much for your support! Honestly! I can't even express it enough to you how much it means to me. Like 100+ followers before chapter 3? Whoa!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Disclaimer: Still own nothing! :)

Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors! :)


Chapter Three:

Sent from: Peter Parker to: Happy Hogan:

Please respond.

Please respond.

Please respond.

Happy!

Mr. Stark needs to here about this.

*hear about this.

Are you ignoring me?

Happy?

Happy…?

Please respond.

Their (the two guys) names are Luke and Terence. The staffything is giving off weird vibes.

Please respond.

Mr. Terence isn't waking up, May's too busy to take them to the ER. I only have my permit.

...Happy.

Happy?

Happy?

Please answer.

Mr. Luke just woke up from a nightmare and I don't know what to do. He's really freaking out.

Update: he calmed down some, he won't take any water or food from me.

Happy.

Happy.

Answer, please!

The staffy thing is making my head hurt.

Please respond.

Mr. Terence still hasn't woken up and it's been three days. What do i do?

*I do.

May got pulled into overtime and she can't come home for a few more days. Timing, right?

Happy.

Answer.

Please.

Happy please, whatever I did to make you so angry, I'm sorry. Mr. Luke and Mr. Terence need help.

I don't know what to do.

Please respond.

This is Peter, by the way. Parker. I think you know that by now, but just in case.

Were you kidnapped?

Or murdered?

Happy.

Happy.

Please respond.

Sent from: Happy Hogan to: Peter Parker:

You're an idiot. Tony's on his way.

It is perhaps one of the only times he's happy to have been proclaimed stupid. He's ecstatic about it, actually; even if he did have to be awakened at one AM to achieve it.

Happy responded.

Mr. Stark is on his way.

Mr. Stark is on his way.

He's never been more relieved.

Peter swings out of bed, flipping the blankets off of his torso in relief and scrambles to his feet to find a clean pair of clothing. Happy didn't specify when Mr. Stark would arrive and he's making no guesses. He just wants to be prepared for when the multi-billionaire does appear with a loud proclamation of Peter's idiocy.

He pulls on the clothing and grabs his phone shoving it into the pant's pocket after sending both May and Ned "Mr. Stark's on his way" texts. Sleep is blurring his vision, but he doesn't really care about it much. He wants to be awake for when Mr. Stark arrives (It's a when, no longer an if, and he wants to shout it from mountain tops in his excitement).

Peter walks as quietly as he can into the living room/kitchen area; refraining from turning on the lights by habit to not accidentally wake up Luke or Terence through the probability is low—but Luke woke up when Peter did this to the awful nightmare, screaming, and he's been wary about that ever since. Peter has spent more time in this area over the last three days than all of the previous time he and May have lived in this apartment combined. He presses his lips together and moves forward, taking a familiar seat at the table.

Luke and Terence are barely visible in the poor lighting, and what can be seen is mostly lumpy outlines. The glowy-staff thing casts an eerie glow over everything despite of the blanket Peter tossed onto it yesterday to quell his spider sense. It just glows continuously, pulsing without a rhythm as if singing to a song they don't know the lyrics for, its aggravating.

Peter drums his fingers against each other for a few long minutes before he feels a buzz in his pocket. It startles him more than he cares to admit and it takes him a second to recognize what it is. Vibrate, his phone is on vibrate. Peter is probably one of the only teenagers still in existence who prefers having his sounds on over vibrate, but he switched over the last couple of days so it would be less distracting. It's still weird, though.

Peter tugs his phone out and presses the power button and stares at the screen through his hazy vision. There's an unread text from Ned. What is Ned doing up so late? They got the English project done on Tuesday when Peter found the two siblings, and there hasn't been anything extensive this week homework wise (which admittedly makes Peter nervous because that means next week promises to be worse). Did Peter accidentally wake him up?

Peter frowns and opens the app, eyes scanning the screen: Dude, finally! You got an ETA?

Erm.

No.

Ned has only been over once since the initial…(he doesn't like this phrasing, but is the most accurate) kidnapping, but Peter hasn't stopped texting him. Ned is as aware of what's going on as Peter is. Which, beyond lots of stress, isn't much.

Luke's only been awake one other time (that Peter is aware of) since Peter gave him water a few days ago and that was for the nightmare. Peter had been stressed when May called him to let him know she couldn't make it home that night because another hospital's generator failed and her work (with the least patients at the moment) got the bulk of everyone. Peter had wandered out into the kitchen/living room and flicked on the light, but it had woken Luke on accident and he had let out a loud noise of distress and refused to calm down despite Peter's reassurances until he worked himself into unconsciousness. It hadn't been fun and just reaffirmed his suspicion that his comforting ability is quite low.

Terence, however, has remained stubbornly in comatose; though his fever has mostly remained at a stagnant 99.7 degrees, Fahrenheit, rather than the previous 100 exact. Peter wishes he had a license.

Peter attaches a unhappy emoji to his text and replies: Nope :/, but it's better than nothing.

Ned's answer is about fifteen seconds later: True, doesn't make it better, though.

Yep.

But Mr. Stark's coming, and that counts for something, right? Peter sincerely hopes so. He has no idea what kept Happy from answering for so long, and only has a vague one for Mr. Stark. Karen mentioned that he was on a undercover mission with Black Widow when she said she couldn't get a hold of Jarvis. Undercover? What was Mr. Stark doing that needed undercover? Peter's admittedly curious for an answer. He can't think of anything in the news that would warrant it recently; but they're the Avengers; they don't use the news, they make it.

Hopefully, if Mr. Stark did pull out for him, it wasn't anything too dire. That would be bad. They probably waited for so long to accomplish their undercover mission-thing, though. Fingers crossed.

Peter releases a slight, quiet raspberry and shoots an answer text off to Ned before flopping his forehead against the table. It twhauks slightly louder than Peter intended and he winces somewhat to it, holding his breath. Nothing else in the apartment moves, suggesting that Peter's twhauk went unnoticed. Good.

He clenches his fist, willing himself to calm down.

Mr. Stark is coming.

Now it's just a matter of when.

000o000

"When" turns out to be two hours later. Peter had slipped off into a doze, only to awaken to a loud knocking on the apartment door. It's four AM now, and Peter knows no one else who it could be except maybe May without her key beyond Mr. Stark. He leaps up, scooting back from the table, his senses alert and adrenaline pumping through him from surprise. The knocks are loud, without any pattern to them and Peter scrambles to open the door before Mr. Stark manages to awaken the entire apartment complex. Judging by the volume of them, it could be entirely possible.

Peter flicks the lock to the door and pulls it open, and promptly struggles to keep his jaw from falling in surprise. Is he dreaming this? He blinks. Nope. Um.

Peter has never seen Mr. Stark in anything but looking...well ready for a photo shoot at any given second. This is not the case at the moment. Whatever mission he was on he literally came there to here from what Peter can tell. Mr. Stark's face is bruised slightly, his dress suit torn in some places and dirty in others. His entire posture radiates that of someone who hasn't slept in a few days, or at least not slept well. Most surprising, however, is his companion.

Black Widow's right arm is swung over Mr. Stark's shoulders; his arm gripping her waist to keep her upright. Miss Romanov's right leg is bandaged heavily and most of her weight is held up by her teammate. Her face is bruised as well, and her red hair is a mess. Clutched in her free hand is a gun, the safety clicked off and her fingers flexed, prepared to didn't realize Mr. Stark would literally be going from his mission to here. If he had, Peter doesn't know if he would have pestered as much.

All of this information he processes in under four seconds.

Mr. Stark gives a tight smile, stretching one of the bruises on his cheek in what looks like a painful manner. "Hi."

Peter's tongue is heavy, and it takes him a moment to respond: "Uh, hello."

Mr. Stark adjusts Black Widow's weight and his smile grows strained, "Can we come in?"

Peter shifts immediately to give them room, flustered. He forgot to invite them in, it's basic courtesy, but his mind is a little scattered at the moment. It has been for days.

Mr. Stark with more gentleness than Peter admittedly expected guides Miss Romanov into the apartment and shifts towards the living room area. Peter follows after them and Mr. Stark releases Miss Romanov to the armchair on the far end of the coffee table. They don't ram into anything, which considering the distinct lack of a light source (except the glowy-staff-thing) is impressive.

When Miss Romanov is settled, Mr. Stark turns to him, "You got any ice we can use?"

Peter pauses for a moment, processing the words. "Um, yeah." He states. He turns without being asked and quickly navigates the dark room to the kitchen with ease. After the spider bite he has gotten a slight degree of night vision. It's not amazing, but he hasn't rammed any of his toes for some time, so that's a plus.

Peter pulls ice from the freezer and grabs one of the many dish towels hanging around from days of attempting to keep Terence's temperature normal and wraps it around the pack.

"Hey Kid?"

Peter looks up, "Hmm?"

"Last time I checked, none of us are vampires. Lights, please." Mr. Stark requests.

Peter flicks on the switch as he returns to the living room squinting to adjust to the sudden brightness. Mr. Stark and Miss Romanov look worse in the actual light. Miss Romanov's face is pale, but the weapon has disappeared somewhere on her person. Her short sleeved, little past her knees black dress isn't faring well and the bandages around her leg are staining in some places. It reminds Peter abruptly of Terence's eye, and he resists the urge to be sick.

Terence's eye, that he had to replace the bandages for because May is gone, Ned refused to help, and Luke hasn't been lucid enough.

Peter shoves the ice pack in Mr. Stark's direction. He feels an eyebrow directed towards him, but he can't bring himself to properly care. Mr. Stark hands the pack to Miss Romanov who presses it against her calf with a hiss.

Peter frowns, "What exactly happened to you guys?"

Mr. Stark's eyes flick up in annoyance as Miss Romanov sighs with irritation. Mr. Stark's lips part, "Happy."

Peter's eyes widen. What on the— "Wait. Did he beat you guys up? 'Cause that's unbelievably ru—"

Mr. Stark's eyebrows shoot so high on his forehead they are in actual danger of vanishing into his hairline. "Whoa, whoa there, Kid. No, Happy didn't beat us up—"

Peter shoulders sag in relief. He had his doubts, of course, because Happy just isn't that kind of person, and it would have been weird if he had managed to do this to Mr. Stark and Miss Romanov anyway because they're Avengers.

"—Happy got us beat up." Mr. Stark corrects.

Peter stares at him blankly, confused.

Mr. Stark pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers, "Have you ever been in the middle of an interrogation then been called excessively by an annoying Asset Manager?"

Has he ever been in the middle of an...then called...no...? Peter shakes his head with slight dubiety.

"Didn't think so," Mr. Stark says, "well, long story short: we fought our way out of the hands of trigger happy scientists quite set on seeing our blood because he kept calling."

Oh.

Fun.

Peter's gaze flickers to the bandage around Miss Romanov's leg again. There is an elevator to this floor, but walking must be painful. "Should she be walking on that?" He gestures to the wound.

Mr. Stark follows his hand and frowns, "No. No she should not."

Miss Romanov arches a brow; almost daring them to challenge her. No thanks, Peter quite likes his limbs located in the locus they are currently.

Mr. Stark turns to him, "Well; it sounds like you've had an eventful last few days. These them?" Mr. Stark gestures towards the the siblings slumped against the sofa. Peter nods.

"Luke and Terence." He offers.

Mr. Stark hums knowingly and takes a few steps forward lifting his phone up to the two men, "Jarvis," Mr. Stark addresses, "vitals."

"Right away, Sir." Jarvis's thick British baritone announces. Peter has had the phone-scan used on him before after he accidentally got knocked unconscious by a violent criminal with good aim and a garbage lid. Peter had been about twenty feet off the ground and fell smacking his head so Karen called Mr. Stark. The scanner on the phone isn't anywhere near as sophisticated as that of the one back at Stark Medical in Avengers Tower, but it gets the basics. Heart rate, blood pressure, any major wounds, and temperature.

The scans come back and Mr. Stark pulls his phone up to his face and scans for a long minute before looking up again at Peter, "His eye is missing?!"

Peter grimaces, "Yeah." He pauses, "It's not a pretty sight."

Mr. Stark huffs, "I'd imagine so. Why didn't you take them to a hospital?"

Isn't that the question of the week? Honestly, Peter is tired of making up excuses to himself. He doesn't know. It just didn't feel right. He points in the direction of Luke's blanket covered staff, the thing he's been blaming for the entire fiasco. "That."

Mr. Stark whirls as Miss Romanov shifts forward in her interest. Mr. Stark tugs the blanket off of the weapon and his spider sense hums dully in reminder of how much it doesn't like the glowy thing.

Yeah. Point taken. It can shut up now.

The light pulses brighter and Mr. Stark and Black Widow share a look that Peter can't interpret. Maybe confusion or recognition. They seem to discuss something telepathically before Mr. Stark leans forward to touch at the glowy-part.

His spider sense lurches with just as much force as it had with May.

THREAT, THREAT, THRE—

Peter leans forward and catches Mr. Stark's wrist before the flesh can come in contact with the gem. "Don't." He says.

Mr. Stark stares at him.

Peter's teeth latch onto his tongue and push. He pulls his hand back then answers Mr. Stark's silent question with: "It...feels weird." He never really explained about his spider sense to Mr. Stark and he doesn't exactly know how to put it into words. "The thing that tells me sometimes when other things are bad, but mostly its like a paranoid mother?". Super descriptive, his English teacher would be to the tears with her pride.

"Hmm." Mr. Stark turns back from the weapon with what looks like reluctance. "I agree. We can take them," he flicks a thumb to the siblings, "back to Stark Medical and me and Bruce can take a look at the weapon. Nat?"

The name is directed as if a question of "thoughts?" instead of her name. Nonetheless, green eyes flick up towards the other Avenger. "Weapon" definitely sounds more official than glowy-staff-thing. Miss Romanov leans back in the chair pressing her ice pack against her calf further. Her lips thin and she lifts a hand out almost lazily towards Luke, "Why don't we ask him?" She tilts her head slightly, "I know you're awake, Luke."

He's what?

Since when!?

Peter thought the dark haired man was still unconscious, he looked asleep. Has he been pulling this on Peter all the time and he just didn't notice?

Mr. Stark and his gaze jerk towards Luke who twitches and with some reluctance peels his eyelids apart. The green is dulled, but focused, suggesting that he didn't just awaken. His lips thin at having been caught and a brief look respect flickers towards Miss Romanov before settling into a blank mask.

Mr. Stark folds his arms across his chest, "Hi." He announces, Luke's wary gaze lifts to Mr. Stark, "You can probably guess at our identities; and Peter told us yours. You guys got a last name?"

Luke's mouth twitches on a frown, "I—" His voice is raspy. All the water he's had in several days was when Peter got him the glass, Peter offered, but Luke wouldn't take it. Luke clears his throat, looking more uncomfortable by the second, "Am I to know you?"

Peter's eyebrows lift with surprise. Um. They're only a few of the best known people on the planet. No, why shouldn't Luke know them? Where has this guy been for the last several years to have missed it? Even Asgard knows about them and its another planet.

To his credit, Mr. Stark manages to cover his surprise to a simple twitch of his fingers. Miss Romanov's eyes widen a small fraction, but otherwise there is no reaction from either. Luke's discomfort seems to pour off him in waves and he shrinks in towards himself the further the awkward silence stretches.

"I—um, okay," Mr. Stark's face twitches with surprise as he works the words from his throat, "I'm Tony Stark and this is my teammate, Natasha Romanov. We're part of the Avengers." At Luke's furthering blank look Mr. Stark adds: "Earth's mightiest heroes."

Wow, these guys have not had access to the internet or other human beings for several years if they missed this completely. What the heck were they doing, anyway? Maybe Peter's initial thought that their from Asgard wasn't to far off. They could be from another planet, when Thor was here and spoke with Dr. Jane Foster, he mentioned there being at least eight other worlds beyond their own.

"We're here to help you;" Miss Romanov explains. Luke's restless gaze flicks to her and she lifts up her hands to show she is unarmed. Except the gun and likely other weapons hiding on her person, but from an outside point of view, she does look harmless. "Not hostiles." She promises.

Luke's lips thin.

"You guys need medical attention," Mr. Stark states pointedly looking towards Terence's eye, "We can provide that. We just need your consent."

Luke's gaze flits to Terence and his jaw clenches, "I am afraid, Mr. Stark, that we do not have anything to offer in return." His voice is quiet, his gaze flicks to his bare feet as if ashamed of this. Something in Peter's stomach churns uncomfortably at Luke's statement.

Miss Romanov leans forward, "We don't want anything, Luke."

Luke's gaze lifts to her, puzzled, "But, I—"

"Maybe a chance to study your weapon, but that's it." Mr. Stark interjects.

Luke's gaze flicks to Terence lingering on his eye. "When we are healed," he starts slowly looking back towards Mr. Stark, "will we be permitted to leave?"

What is it with Luke and his weird questions like these? Why would they not?

Miss Romanov and Mr. Stark share another knowing look. "Of course," Miss Romanov states calmly, yet firmly. Luke looks at his brother again before blowing a breath out.

"I agree to your terms. My brother needs assistance I cannot provide at the moment." Luke says.

Wait. "You're a doctor?" The question slips from Peter's lips before he can stop it. The way Luke phrased his sentence hinted in that direction somewhat. All eyes land on Luke and the dark-haired man squirms slightly, his mouth opening for a second. He latches it shut and appears to be working on how to word something before answering.

"In a way, I suppose."

Huh.

Doctor.

It fits him.

"Great," Mr. Stark states cheerily, walking to Miss Romanov and she sets the ice pack down before holding her hand out. Mr. Stark takes it and swings it across his shoulders, pulling her onto her five inch heels. How she manages to move in those without stumbling is a mystery to Peter. It just looks highly uncomfortable. Mr. Stark turns to them, "I've got a car outside."

Oh. They move forward and Miss Romanov grabs the staff thing, as they pass it.

Luke rises to his feet, wobbles for a second as if dizzy than pulls the blankets from his sibling off and tugs the unconscious blond to his feet. Luke looks like he's going to topple forward and take his brother with him a second later. Peter skirts across the room and takes Terence's other side before he really recalls moving.

Luke sends him a look Peter cannot interrupt, but its something of mild alarm as if Peter is causing Terence bodily harm by helping Luke support the weight.

Peter does his best to ignore it.

The hobble to Mr. Stark's car takes about fifteen minutes and is one of the most awkward things he's ever done in his life.

When Black Widow is in the passenger's seat, and Luke and Terence secured in the back, Mr. Stark turns to him, brow furrowed. "You okay?"

Peter laughs in slight hysteria. Is he? He honestly doesn't know anymore. He's been under so much stress it's hard to tell what is and isn't okay anymore. This is insane. It doesn't feel like actual reality, more like some sort of weird dream. He sighs, "Yeah. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark rests a hand on his shoulder, "You did good." He states. Peter wants to disagree (how is kidnapping a good thing?), but keeps his lips pressed together firmly then parts them with some effort.

"Can I see them later?"

Mr. Stark shrugs, "Sure, I guess, really depends on Luke and Terence. Drop by later after school sometime, I'll see if I can get you in."

Peter nods, swelling dread. School. Again. Right. He can't pretend with this fabricated illness forever. Mr. Stark pulls his hand back and Peter longs for the warmth of it suddenly. He nods "See you soon, Kid. And," Mr. Stark steps back towards the drivers door as Miss Romanov waves at him through the window lazily. Mr. Stark flicks out a pair of sunglasses that have somehow managed to survive their attack and are utterly useless at this hour. "Most people pick up stray cats. Give that a try next time, 'kay? I think you gave Happy a heart attack."

Peter laughs.

Mr. Stark grins and closes the car door. Within another minute, the vehicle isn't visible anymore and Peter is left by himself on the sidewalk.

000o000

"I would like to know whose idea it was to do an interrogation by being interrogated." Bruce's voice is filled with a calm over tone, but there's a tightness to it underneath. He's frustrated. With good reason. Natasha doesn't exactly blame him, she and Tony return from an undercover mission bruised, battered and with two unconscious guests they didn't plan on originally. They were just gathering info, not stray adults.

Luke slipped back into unconsciousness as they drove back to the Tower after some fight with himself to stay awake. Unfortunately for the dark haired man, the lull of the car likely dragged him back into dreamworld and neither herself or Tony have been able to awaken either one of them. It's unnerving, but Tony didn't see any sources on why.

When they arrived at the Tower, Clint, Steve, and Bruce had been awaiting them (probably aware via Jarvis) with equal faces of unhappy. She didn't see Sam or Bucky, so she's assuming both are still asleep. It's not quite six AM yet and Bucky isn't an early riser unless he has to be (the world is coming to an end being "has to be"). Sam is in between, and she's guessing Jarvis hand picked who he awakened. Steve knew they were on their way back from the mission, but that's about all.

Clint had taken the support-Natasha job from Tony so the others could get the two siblings into medical. Once they were settled, Bruce forced Tony into a chair and did what he could for the injures then moved onto her.

The interrogation had gotten messy, quickly. More than she or Tony had anticipated. They had been questioning scientists from OsCorp for reasons on why their boss, Norman Osborn had attempted to steal several dozen arc reactors from Tony. All they have is vague half answers, which isn't much better than they had before. They didn't get to finish before Happy started spamming Tony's phone with calls.

Natasha winces as Bruce stabs more aggressively than needed for the stitches on the bullet graze. Her suit is thick and usually helps stop most of the weapons. Running around with only high heels on her feet hadn't been the wisest decision. Little late to change it, though.

"It was mine." Natasha answers to Bruce's question.

Bruce's lips thin like this was the expected answer, but it doesn't make him any happier. She smiles thinly. Bruce cuts the thread and looks up at her, "I can take these out in a few days, but try to do your best to stay off your feet, okay?"

She nods.

Bruce moves away to wash his hands. Tony is talking quietly to Steve to the side about the mission report and Clint shifts from his position next to her to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Natasha's lips thin as she watches her partner before gently bumping him on the shoulder, he rocks slightly at the push, "Tired?" She guesses.

Clint moans in response, "It's not even six yet, Tasha."

She smiles lightly, "I know."

"You couldn't have waited until a little later?" He questions in distress, digging his palms into his eyes.

Natasha smirks, but pats him sympathetically on the shoulder, "Aww, you poor thing."

Clint huffs with amusement, but when he looks up at her a few seconds later, he's frowning. "You're otherwise alright, yeah?" He gestures to the bullet graze. Natasha does a quick internal assessment. Tired, slightly grumpy and a little bruised, but yeah, she's fine.

She nods, "Tony took the brunt of the fire with his suit; I'm fine." Her words seem to ease some pressure from between Clint's shoulders.

Bruce saunters past them to where their two unconscious charges are laying on separate hospital beds in the large room. Stark Medical is a messy maze to anyone who doesn't know how it runs; which, after living with the other Avengers for nearly four years now (three years, nine months), she does. There's a hall of private rooms on a single floor (Stark Medical extends for three for S.I. employees, but the first floor is claimed for the team) and usually two—sometimes three—rooms where multiple patients can be stationed. This is one of the multiple person rooms. Both Luke and Terence are hooked up to respective IV's (one of the first things Bruce did after they were put on the beds) and pale. Luke looks like a white sheet of paper that's going to simply tear down the middle if someone blows to hard, and Terence appears to be a person with naturally sun kissed skin, but it's hard to tell under the extreme pastel.

Natasha has no idea what they've been doing over the last while, but clearly it hasn't been the most healthy course of action for either. Bruce hasn't forced Stark Medical clothing on the two, yet, he probably will soon, so the contrasting faded colors of their clothing sticks out like a sore thumb among the white sheets.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hit Peter over the head with a broom or give him a pat on the shoulder for being a good citizen when Tony explained (in the midst of their battle to get out of the clutches of the gun-happy scientists) what was going on. She had half expected to arrive at the Parker's apartment, earlier than what is socially acceptable and fight a battle for Peter's life. She refused to stay in the car despite Tony's protests and the multi-billionaire had finally given up when she'd simply left the vehicle stumbling to the apartment and assisted her in walking. She's still neutral on what reaction she wants to give Peter. The teenager is selfless beyond what is healthy and it can get him into some tight, unwelcome situations.

Like being kidnapped by an ex-employee of SI who went insane and made an attempt for Tony's head with man-made wings when he (Peter) stopped the man, Adrian Toomes from taking Tony's head off. Which, although they are all grateful, was incredibly stupid.

"Jarvis, scan, please," Bruce commands, drawing her back to the present.

"Right away, Dr. Banner," Jarvis's blue light spreads across Luke's body in a wave then Terence's before settling. The light swerves to Bruce's hand in a small box looking package that Bruce gently taps to open. He stares at the scan for Luke first and his eyebrows lower the further down he gets. Not a good sign. Whatever is on the scans isn't a magical fairy princess hoping to spread as much glitter as possible. She isn't too savvy with medical lingo, so most of what she can read backwards from the scan doesn't make sense.

Bruce, however, frowns. It's one of the frowns where he isn't exactly sure what's going on and it displeases him.

"What?" Tony asks, his voice tinged with slight curiosity. His and Steve's quiet conversation to the side is clearly over. Natasha sits upright further, Clint rising with her, all of their eyes are locked onto the gamma scientist. Bruce may not have actually completed medical school, but he was pretty close before he switched over to gamma radiation as a suggestion from one of his teachers. Then the Hulk happened and no one would allow him entrance to finish the last semester he needed to get certified. He could now, most people would beg to have Bruce at their schools, but Bruce has never felt the need to finish after his initial second try.

Bruce's lips thin and flips the hologram, enlarging it in some areas so they can see before drawing back before shoving his glasses up his nose. "This." He states gesturing towards the scans, "He's a mess."

"What do you mean?" Steve inquires, his voice laced with confusion and some concern, "I can't see anything beyond his fingers." Ah, so she wasn't the only person to note his damaged hands. She's not entirely certain what happened, but it reminds her of the time about two years ago now when Clint smashed his right hand inside of a drawer in Tony's lab and sprained four of them. According to Tony, (she wasn't present) he swore. A lot.

Bruce runs a hand through his dark hair, "Yeah, most of the damage you wouldn't see with just your eyes. His heart rate is slower than it should be from severe malnutrition, his torso is a mess of wounds that never healed right and this—" Bruce pauses to widen something and flip it so they can see. It's a holographic, but it gives a basic outline of blue tinted skin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a lichtenburg?"

Really? Luke has the mark left after someone gets struck by lightning? How did he achieve that? Very few people walk away from being blasted coherent, Luke seemed a little quiet and uncomfortable, but not like he'd been recently blasted by over a billion watts of electricity.

Clint releases an impressed hum next to her, folding his arms across his chest. Natasha stares at the pattern dotting across Luke's chest for another moment, lips thinning. It's over where his heart would be, and spreads out a little, but it doesn't extend extensively. Most litchenburg unfurl all across the body and down the spinal cord, this is only across his chest in two separate large circular shapes that do connect through little threads of the scarring.

Huh. No one corrects Bruce, because they can't; it is a lichtenberg.

Bruce pulls the hologram back, "And that's not even half of it. There's more scar tissue than there should be. He's been stabbed at least three times from what I can tell and it sort of looks like he went swimming in boiling water. Some of it's old, but none of the more severe is older than five-six years. There has been enough cleanup from cellular repair for that. I don't even want to know what this is," he gestures to long scars across Luke's back, "but it has one of the sloppiest attempt at stitches I've ever seen in my life."

This makes her still. Luke's polite tenseness around them sinks deeper into half formed theories. "Will we be permitted to leave?" They were held captive by someone for a while (if she were to guess) that (in the least) didn't seem to like Luke much, she's not expecting Terence to be much better, though.

Bruce's lips thin, but they remain quiet. It's painfully clear to her, however, that they are all aware of what's going on. Bruce sighs through his teeth, "And there's hypothermia."

Hypothermia. Now? Honestly? Strange. At least it's not a fever.

"He's part time Frosty the Snowman?" Tony quips halfheartedly.

Bruce shakes his head slightly, "You have no idea." He mutters.

Bruce closes the folder and opens Terence's. He scans it, lips pressing together, but answers their silent question when he's finished about three minutes later: "He's scarred, bones show multiple signs of previous fracture and his blood work is a mess. He bears similar scars to Luke, and—" Bruce pauses, his head tilting and he pulls up Luke's hologram again. Why?

Bruce enlarges an image and his lips purse, "There's some sort of marking here, it's on both of them. I don't know what it is, though," he announces. Recognition, that's why Bruce paused. Bruce shakes his head slightly, "There's just this something swimming in Terence's bloodstream, it's not infection…" Bruce trails off, biting at his lip before his eyes widen with horror.

Natasha tenses, but her body prepares for a fight. What? What is it? Is Terence dying or what's wrong? Why—?

"Tony," Bruce's voice is the deceptive calm it takes when he's beginning to panic, "You still have the quarantine area, right?" The quarantine area that none of them have had to use, but it still exists, as far as she's aware it's still there. Why would he need—?

"Yes." Tony answers, dread leaking onto his tone. "Why?"

Bruce slams the holograms shut and they disappear from existence, "I want you to call May and Peter, tell them to take a shower and be on watch. Everyone else is going to do the same when we're done here."

Anxiety swims through her stomach. Something is wrong and she doesn't know what. She hates being in the dark about anything. Terence, she's guessing has some sort of infection that's making him ill. It's probably worse than that, though.

Steve hesitates, then asks: "Why?"

Bruce meets eyes with their captain, "Because I'm pretty sure Terence is infected with something deadly and I can't tell if it's contagious and if we have it too."


Author's Note: Oh my gosh, I cannot even begin to explain to you how many times I rewrote this chapter. I think I accidentally turned on its evil switch ;D. Anyway, um, yep.

Next chapter will be posted August 31! :)

Until then! Thank you guys again for your support!