What happens when you pile a bunch of doctors into a medical wing with a catatonic spider-kid? A hell of a lot of things going on at once, it turns out. Bruce can't complain about it, because it at least keeps him focused on anything other than himself; life has been one big roller-coaster he hasn't been able to get off of since Ultron (no, wait, way before that), and all he wants is to sit in a lab and work on anything that isn't his own self-worth and mental capsizing. Two years killing aliens for sport as a gladiator will do that to you. Yeah, he still hasn't figured out how to work with this, so he just went ahead and put all that in a way-too-small box in his brain.

Hooray for compartmentalizing.

Back to work.

Cho has already gently pulled a sample of Parker's tissue from one of his arms to study his particularly complex cell structure, as is her particularly crucial talent, and Strange has returned from his own collection of ancient texts, Wong hovering at his side to offer whatever knowledge he can in the ways of the soul — to which Bruce knows Tony's grateful, but he also is well-aware that the man is running on fumes by the third day of diagnostics. The genius had been animated with the news of Peter's return, and that scene outside is still fresh in his mind as he eyes the reports that have come back from MRI scans of Peter's brain. There's no damage, no signs of anything that would cause this kind of dramatic loss of self, which Bruce semi-expected with the way Dr. Strange had gone on about the potential effects of the stones on a kid like Peter.

There are variables. It's possible someone did this to him — that he was targeted, that maybe Thanos did something specific in the snap that left Peter completely vulnerable to complications. That doesn't too much sense in the grand scope of things, but it surely the madman had some range of control over who stayed and who went. The thing is, Thanos was dead. This shouldn't be a complication. Should it?

Perhaps it's someone outside of Thanos. Someone from his roster, maybe. But that would also be an odd way to handle payback, especially when the Guardians and Strange were also at their mercy. Bruce didn't rule out the possibility that something from the planet itself might have effected Parker, especially when Titan may very well effect every one of them differently. Strange collected some of the dirt and debris carried over onto the Benatar, and from Peter and Drax's boots, but the results of the study yielded very little.

"He's not completely human, that much is certain," Cho says, not unkindly. "If you look at the way his DNA is structured, it is much different than any string I would pull from myself or any normal boy off the street. But if there's a correlation with the way he's reacted to resurrecting, I have not found it yet."

Bruce glances at Tony, biting his lip. "His brain scans are clean, too. I've sent everything to Shuri, though, just in case they can find something we don't. Which, you know, is a... pattern... lately..."

Tony was up at all hours after the kid had been put to bed, compiling all manner of documents highlighting medical complications and disorders of the mind, and at this point Bruce is tempted to lock him out of the lab (though he's also more than aware he may also be punched in the teeth for it, and the last thing anyone needs is for Hulk to finally decide to pop back in)... Three whole days, though. It's not healthy, and yes, he's not the pinnacle of good mental health himself, but...

He twiddles with a pen in his hands, once the two of them are alone (well, Peter is here, too... so they're alone enough).

"Hey, we've got this. You're not gonna be any good to this kid if you're passing out mid-conversation."

"We've got a bigger problem than that," Tony mumbles, rubbing at the exhaustion all over his face. They're both sitting at a counter near the lounge chairs; why aren't they sitting on the lounge chairs? Bruce is seeing a missed opportunity for comfort here. Peter has the right idea.

Tony adds, "... He hasn't eaten anything."

And okay, that is a pretty important thing to bring up. He'd been putting it off in the hopes they'd find something sooner, to avoid what he figured might have to be done. But even with practically living in the lab with this unresponsive kid, they're no closer to closing in on what's making him tick — or not tick, in this case — and resources are waning. Bruce bites his lip, not happy with what he'll have to say. "He's going to need a temporary feeding tube of some kind, soon. Until we can get any kind of result."

"Oh, god." And Bruce sees in his friend's eyes, the slow unraveling that comes with helplessness. He wishes there was something he could say that was any more calming, but the fact of the matter is that Peter is his patient for the meanwhile, and he has to say exactly what's in the kid's best interest, whether it's emotionally draining or not. He's tired, they're all tired, Peter's probably hungry, and nobody wins in this situation.

"He's not a typical case, either. His metabolism is too high to do anything different, Tony, I'm sorry. He's already losing way too much weight for just being a few days back, and IV drips are only gonna get us so far. Even if he's not mentally there right now, it's not humane to—"

Tony's fist is a sharp, echoing sound against the metal table under his arm. "I know, alright? I know!"

A silence falls over them where they sit, and Peter — as always — only blinks and breathes where he sits nearby. It must be so much, to watch someone you love look like this for so long. Too long. Every glance in the boy's direction is a reminder of just how powerless they can all be, despite their collective minds, their hours and hours of best efforts. Bruce leans back, almost affronted by the simmering heat in Tony's rounded shoulders, tapping his pen to his teeth a few times before he says with a raised brow, "... Are you gonna hulk out on me? Do I need to get the armor out?"

It works enough to tame the beast. And maybe even earn a hidden, miserable smile as Tony's face descends into shadow behind his fists. "Ha, ha. Very funny."

More softly, Bruce replies, "... It won't be a big deal. It's an hour-long surgery at most, and it's extremely noninvasive and basic, and Cho can do it in her sleep. It's just a little button, practically — you won't even notice anything's any different, and he'll be all the more healthy for it, right? It's for Peter's well-being."

Tony cards a hand through his hair, looking at Peter, who is sitting as compliantly as the day he'd been walked in.

"... You're a fucking pain in the ass, Pete," he says.

It's a strained response, and Bruce reaches out to cup one of Tony's shoulders. His doctoring isn't just limited to Peter, and he can see just how drained Tony is; he wears the bags under his eyes like a fashion accessory, and while that's usually all fine and good and expected of someone like him, enough is enough. He can't watch his friend self-combust in front of him."And you need to rest. I'm serious, man. Do you think he wants you to overwork yourself to death here?"

"He doesn't want anything right now, because nobody's at the door, Bruce. And I don't know what to do."

"Right now? Sleeping is what you do. You're no good to him if you're not at your best." A pause. "I'm getting Pepper."

He stands, and Tony looks after him helplessly.

"No, hey — goddammit."


Stephen has met few as stubborn as Tony Stark, but he supposes that's one reason the earth had ultimately been in the best of hands, against Thanos and his unruly power.

It takes a few arguments and a hell of a lot of coaxing and an unfair advantage of using a two year old baby, but eventually Tony relents with Bruce and Stephen's promise that they won't do anything until Tony can decide how to approach May Parker about this (this poor woman doesn't even know, she has no clue, and how are they going to explain to this poor woman that her adoptive son is here but not here at all?). Tony also adds an addendum, that he has to be present for every goddamn moment of any surgery involved here no matter how small, 'so help me god'. It's a fair request, one that Stephen gives his word to honor.

He consults with Cho and Bruce, and they're in agreement: a percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy, however temporary it is, is imperative for their patient. It would have never been something he would have cared about, in his professional career. He would have not given Peter Parker a second glance in the hospital, would have passed him off to someone else like he had been the most minor of roadblocks. A thoughtful silence falls over them as Dr. Cho talks about their short-term gameplan. Strange admittedly has a lot he should be doing; the Time Stone is back in its rightful place, and the whole world is reeling from the events of the last few years. He'd only given himself enough time to comb through old records at the Sanctum and remind Christine, rather lamely, that he's back from the dead.

She had nearly strangled him in her embrace, but it was a soft moment he wouldn't trade for anything.

"... I'll oversee the surgery as well," he finally speaks, glancing back at Peter. He's been there for every step of the conversation, and part of him hopes that a teenager hearing the word 'surgery' applied to them will make them suddenly spring to life with anxiety, like a kid realizing he's on his way to a dentist. Nothing of the sort happens, but even Stephen is not allergic to hopeful optimism.

"I can promise you, he'll be in safe hands," Cho says worriedly, but he shakes his head with a raised hand.

"It's not that. I trust you to be knowledgeable; you're a credit to your field. I just want to know for myself as well, that everything goes exactly as expected." If he can't take an hour out of his day to look out for a teammate, then he doesn't deserve to wear the cloak.

"We'd love to have you," Bruce says, then smiles a little. "Are you, uh. Close with Peter?"

He considers it for a moment, and only a moment, fleeting. For some reason, most of that moment comprises of memories, of one Peter Parker excitedly rambling at him about magic and floating cloaks for an hour prior to crash landing. He huffs a breath, almost a laugh. "Not particularly, to be honest. I'd only met him on an alien spaceship a day before we all were killed. But — his involvement in our timeline can't be overstated. And... the kid did save my life. And helped me avoid a great deal of torment. So I suppose he's a temporary... ward, of sorts. I'm indebted to him. What about you?"

"This is the first time I've met him, actually. But... he means a lot to Tony. And..." The doctor grows quiet for a moment with folded, contemplative arms, and Cho and Stephen give him a moment to continue. "And — I know what it's like."

Strange cocks his head. Bruce sighs through his nose, eyes darkening with discontentment. A storm of ugly memories, all kept under lock and key; Stephen knows about the Hulk, of course, but he can hardly imagine the sorts of horror shows only Bruce banner is privy to. The man says, "I know what it's like, to be trapped in your own body. Maybe he's not, not exactly, and nothing like how I've been before, but... either way, he deserves to have it back."

That's all that needs to be said.

Stephen rises to leave after some time and a couple of warm drinks, hearing Bruce speaking effortlessly to Peter from around the corner before he fades further and further from earshot: "Hey kid, you're pretty good at this whole meditation thing; I'm a pro at it, myself. We should go out and get some air, maybe practice on the lawn. You could use some sunlight before you turn into a lab hermit like the rest of us old men."

Wong hovers in the main corridor, newly arrived. A good sign.

Stephen walks with him.

"Anything from the Sanctum about the stones that might help this?"

"Not very much," Wong relents. "What little can be found are based in texts that predate most everything we know as masters. However... I was able to look into what the Ancient One left behind in her many records and found something potentially helpful — and that is not necessarily something about the infinity stones, but about astral projection. I'll have to show you when we return, so you can help me decipher her chicken scratch."

Stephen laughs softly, and they enjoy the sound of each other's footsteps.

"... Do you have any theories, about what's actually wrong with the boy?"

Strange purses his lips, and says at cautious length, "It's all just a theory, but... the woman, Mantis, she had been able to sense him within his body for a short time, even if it wasn't for long. I think more than anything else, it's possible that Peter returned to himself momentarily like the rest of us — and then panicked and let himself sink back into... wherever we all were."

"Panicked?" Wong's brow furrows. "Over being alive again?"

"... Over the pain of it. Stark had a hard time talking about it, but from what I can gather from his recollections, Peter's death was extraordinarily different from the rest of us. He felt that something was wrong before he'd passed, and it took him much longer than the rest of us to die. If I had to fathom a guess... I think maybe his composition was his own undoing. He's a scared child who couldn't cope with re-living that moment of suffering."

"And what is the solution to that? Is there any?"

Stephen looks to the side, where Bruce and Peter are resting in the sun, not too far from where the Benatar had landed — with them and bad news. For a moment Stephen worries about the safety of a mentally lost boy and a doctor sorely lacking in control over his green rage-monster, but then he notices the blot of red on the rooftops — Natasha Romanoff, accompanied by a suited-up Sam Wilson, watching with bird-like eyes over the resting figures.

Stephen smiles faintly despite himself.

"None that I can offer anyone right now. There may not be a solution. Even the Scarlet Witch couldn't find any foothold in the kid's mind... There's no link that we can find between him and the physical world. But if there's any hope at all, and if all else truly fails... my personal bet is on the Soul Stone."

Though maybe — and this is a fluttering, unprofessional thought in the grand scheme of things — the extended hands of Peter Parker's worried team may be part of that solution, too. Stephen makes a mental note to compile as much as he can to give to Stark from the Ancient One's writings. And he gives silent thanks to her, that even after her passing, she's managed to help provide obnoxiously useful words of wisdom, be it in slowed thunder storms or old, time-stained scrolls.