When Peter awoke, his face was buried in someone's shoulder. He pulled back slowly, his head pounding.

"Morning, handsome," A voice said, watching Peter blink groggily.

Peter rubbed his eyes slowly, looking thoroughly confused. "You're...Tony Stark?" He said slowly, taking stock of the man he had just woken up next to.

"Last I checked," Tony responded. It looked like he had been awake for a while. "How are you feeling?"

Suddenly, Peter remembered. The woman, the knife, everything. "Uh-" he looked around the room. "Fine, I think." His body ached slightly, but nothing compared to yesterday.

"Incredible," Tony breathed, his hand reaching subconsciously for Peter's now healed stomach.

"Isn't it?" Peter said bitterly, dragging himself to his feet.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Stark spoke up again, and handed Peter a large bread roll. It was covered in light brown sauce. Peter noticed a pitcher of water in the corner, more than half full. "The tap water is okay to drink too, I think," He added, gesturing to the small bathroom.

Peter took it wordlessly, suddenly remembering that his last meal had been a hot dog roll, more than twenty-four hours ago.

"Well, eat up. You need energy. Whatever their serum is doing to you must take the wind out of you," Tony said, leaning back against the wall. "And if you won't, I will."

Peter took a bite out of the roll, the thick savory taste filling his mouth. He was so hungry. Why hadn't he noticed how hungry he was? He took another bite quickly. He couldn't get enough.

"This is really good," He said through the bread, his speech muffled.

"I'm glad you're enjoying our five-star stay," Tony said wryly.

"Hey, it's free food," Peter said, only half joking. Yesterday felt so far away now that his stomach was full and his wounds had healed.

"If we ever get out of here, you won't have to worry about paying for food ever again," Tony said offhandedly, smiling at Peter as he scarfed down the rest of the roll. His stomach grumbled, wishing for more.

"I'll hold you to that," Peter warned him, finishing the roll with a lick of his fingers. Tony pursed his lips.

"What, you're going to judge me for not being polite? Here? Now?" Peter smiled widely and finished licking his fingers, not letting any sauce go to waste.

Tony raised his hands in defeat.

"How long have you been up?" Peter asked, settling into a sitting position near the pitcher of water.

"A few hours," He responded, taking a seat next to him. "I've been waiting for you to wake up."

Peter's face turned red.

"Sorry," He mumbled.

"It's fine. I figure we're both going to get pretty lonely in here," Tony said off-handedly, a smirk dancing on his face.

Peter didn't know how to respond. He knew Tony's . . . varied sexual history and any sentence like that probably meant nothing. Or, it meant exactly what it sounded like, which made Peter feel even more uncomfortable.

"Lighten up, kid," Tony said, as the silence stretched on. "Like I said, you and I are each other's only company for the foreseeable future." He shrugged, turning to Peter. "Not that I don't wish you were a leggy blonde, but you seem friendly enough."

"High praise," Peter said with a snort.

"Look," Tony said, rolling his eyes at Peter again. "Just, consider us on a first name basis, alright?"

"As soon as I spent a night bleeding out onto you, I considered you Tony," Peter revealed with another small laugh. Tony bit the inside of his cheek.

"You are one weird civilian," He said again.

"The praise just keeps on coming, doesn't it?"

"I rest my case," Tony continued, giving Peter a pointed look, which Peter ignored.

In silence, they enjoyed each other's company, resting against the wall. Tony got up intermediately, pacing the room for a few minutes before sitting down next to Peter again to share a small thought, occasionally making him laugh.

Suddenly, they both froze as they heard the lock click again. Peter's heart dropped to his stomach, and he couldn't stop the hitch in his breath. Tony glanced at his roommate, then to the door, his face set.

The woman was there, again, her poisoned smile set on her face.

"Gentlemen," She greeted them, spreading her arms. "Good morning, I trust?"

"I missed the continental breakfast," Peter said without missing a beat, but his body language spoke another story. He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't even standing. He sat, back to the wall, staring straight ahead.

"I'll have to talk to my staff," She said playfully. Tony's stony expression didn't budge.

"So," She continued professionally, "My first appointment this morning is with Mr. Stark, here. If you would," She gestured to the door.

"If you think for one moment I'm walking out that door with you . . ." He said in a low voice.

"I do, in fact. Or, I can take Peter first, and come back for you afterward," She said, her voice equally low. The smile was still plastered on her face, hanging creepily beneath unfeeling eyes.

Peter's breathing choked for a moment from his sat position against the door. Tony walked to the door wordlessly, not looking Peter or the woman in the eyes. "Let's go, then." His words were impatient but his face was stoic.

"See you later," He said to Peter, glancing back at his roommate.

"In a while, crocodile."

"I'm sure you saw our handiwork concerning our young patient, yesterday, no?" The woman led Tony down the corridor.

"Handiwork? You're crazy," Tony scoffed, running his hand through his curls, wishing he could have a nice wash. Maybe even a spa day. "You're gonna kill him."

"Eventually, almost certainly," She smiled down at Tony from her several inch heels.

Tony felt goosebumps appear along his arms.

"Regardless, you can be helpful in your own way," She paused next to a door and gestured for someone to come forward. Slowly, the man who had left a bleeding Peter in their doorway walked up, his dark hair slicked back.

"This is Oscar, and for all intents and purposes, he is your lab assistant," She clapped her hands, a bright look in her eyes. "Come," She gestured to the door next to them. With a small click, it swung open.

"I've collected some of Peter's blood in order to create a healing serum," She said pointing to a large glass container which held something deep and red. Tony felt his stomach heave once as he stared at it. "Of course," she continued, walking around the small lab, "This is just a small sample, set aside for you. The rest is for me to . . . play with."

"Oh, a scientist, are you?" Tony said acidically, eyes still glued to the sample.

"Doctor actually, and scientist." There was a hint of pride in her voice that didn't go unnoticed.

"Doctor?" At that, he ripped his gaze away. "What the fuck happened to the Hippo Oath then, Doctor?" He spat at her feet, rage burning beneath his eyes.

"Not that kind of doctor," She said, stalking to the front of the room, crazed happy look vanished from her gaze. "I recommend you watch your tone with me, Mr. Stark."

"No promises. Being cooped up for over a day can make anyone a little crazy," Tony said as he rolled his eyes and mimed being crazy for a moment. The woman turned decidedly away from him, staring at the whiteboard.

"All I require of you is your mind, Mr. Stark," She said, breathing deeply out of her nose. "I did not exactly plan on you being here, but now that you are, it'd be nothing less than stupid to ignore your great talent."

"So what would you have me and my talent do?" Tony said with dread, glancing at Peter's blood again.

"Create a healing serum from Peter's blood," She said, shrugging as if it were obvious.

"Don't you already have one?" Tony said, running his hands through the shelves, looking for supplies.

"Is that what Peter told you?" She asked, furrowing her brows.

"Yeah. After you torture him, you inject him to heal him up." Tony wasn't successful in keeping his voice steady and the anger seeped through.

The woman laughed out loud. "Yes, that is what we do, isn't it?" She laughed again.

Tony swiveled his gaze to her, incredulity written across his face. "What's so funny, Doc?"

"Nothing, Mr. Stark. Nothing at all," She flashed him a sickly smile.

"I'll leave you to it then," She said, walking back toward the door. "Oscar will be right outside if you need anything."

"Does Oscar have any experience?" Tony asked, the question slipping out as if it were a normal job, in a normal lab.

"Experience?" She cocked her head, in faux-thought for a moment. "No. But you'll have to make due. Besides, you love working alone." With that, she shut the door behind herself, and Tony was alone once more.

Is this how it had been for Tony yesterday? Peter wondered from his perch several feet off the ground. Alone, scared, and more than anything, bored? Somehow, he felt relaxed up here. More relaxed than he had yet in this place, anyway. It reminded him that he was still Spider-Man, he was still himself.

He had tried several positions in the hour or two he had been left alone so far. If he had just had his web shooters, he'd already be swinging back and forth in a hammock strung from the ceiling. But then again, Tony would definitely notice that.

Suddenly, the door unlocked and opened with a bang.

"Peter?" The woman crossed her arms. "Come down from there, we have work to do."

"What did you do with Tony?" He asked immediately, dropping down from his crouch against the wall.

"He's fine. We're putting his smart mind to use." She waved her hand. "Now, come on."

Peter didn't move.

"Do I have to motivate you, Mr. Parker?" She used his real name like a bullet, piercing his ears. "Mr. Stark does not yet know your true identity. If you'd like to keep it that way, then Move. Along."

Peter was stock-still for one more moment, staring at her - staring through her - but then, he pulled his feet in front of him, and followed her out the door, one step after another. His Spidey-sense screamed for him to do anything than this, to go anywhere else other than here. His strength itched right underneath his skin, begging to be released in the form of punching the woman in front of him as hard as he possibly could. But, instead, he walked along, behind her, his steps meek and small.

The room was just as he remembered it from yesterday, but there was a strong smell of antiseptic chemicals coating the pseudo-lab, and there wasn't a trace left of the blood he had spilled not twenty-four hours earlier.

Peter lingered in the doorway as the woman strode in, pulling her hair into a ponytail that fell down her back.

"Peter, we've been over this. Come in, make yourself comfortable." She gave him a bemused look, and returned to the clipboards in front of her, a small smile on her face.

Peter, slowly and with trepidation approached the chair again, waiting next to it. I should probably appreciate my ability to stand without help for now, he thought morbidly to himself.

"When you get up, can you lie on your side for me?" The woman asked distractedly, glancing up from her paperwork.

He climbed up, lying on his left side. His back felt exposed, and he couldn't stop the shaking in his fingers, so he clenched them into fists as tight as he could, and focused on breathing. That was one thing he could control - for now, anyway.

"Today, we should have a fairly short day," The woman said, walking over to the chair. She had glasses pushed up on the top of her head, and was looking down at Peter with a calculating eye. In her right hand, weighing down her whole right side, hung a large mallet, the handle thick and wooden.

"What's that for?" Peter asked, unable to take his eyes off it.

"Your femur," She said, running her hand up his upper leg, drawing goosebumps. Peter shivered and fought against every urge in his body to pull his leg away.

"I'm going to tie you down, and then we can get started," She said, placing the hammer on the chair next to Peter's chest.

Awkwardly, she pulled the strap over Peter's ankles and tied them down as best as she could in his position on his side. She tied down both wrists on the same arm, forcing his back to be hunched.

"And so we begin," She said, for no one's benefit other than her own.

"Do we have to?" Peter asked, his voice muffled. She ignored him.

She picked the hammer up, and notched it above her shoulder. Counting silently, her lips moving, she drew it up higher until it was hovering above her head. Peter couldn't control his fear, he couldn't control his Spidey-Sense, he couldn't control anything.

His whole body was shaking, and his eyes were tightly closed, as though if he couldn't see the situation, the situation would disappear.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, the mallet fell.

Peter wasn't sure what was louder - his scream, or the crack of his femur that seemed to reverberate around the room. If Tony was still in his cell, he surely would have heard that . . . right? He couldn't stop the tears forming in the corner of his eyes or the feeling coming from his right leg, a feeling worse than yesterday.

It didn't dissipate, it didn't reach a steady throb. He could feel the bones underneath his skin move against each other with every stolen breath, and out of the corner of his teary eye, could see the skin, already black and blue.

"I'll release you to your cell, Mr. Parker. I want to see how long it takes to heal on its own."

Peter couldn't say anything, even if he wanted to. His breaths were gasps, his head was rushing, and he couldn't seem to focus on anything longer than a split-second. Somewhere, beneath all the terror and pain and despair, he wished Tony was there, he wished he could fall asleep on his shoulder again and wake up with a smile.