NOTE: Before you start to read, the previous chapter was heavily edited as of July 4-5th. Rereading it to see the changes would be advisable if you have not done so already.

OOO

Hours passed before the two in the bell tower finally stirred, having slept soundly enough that they missed the bells chiming several times. Peter woke first and stroked Harry's chin until his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," Harry winced; he was sure something was wrong inside.

"Try afternoon. Early evening. Something like that."

"Oh." He sat up and looked around. "We've been sleeping." He stretched and rubbed his neck. "Damn, I'm sore. Feels like my insides met with a meat grinder," he grumbled before his eyes widened in realization and he looked apprehensively at Peter. "Pete, I'm sorry..."

"Harry," Peter pressed his fingers to Harry's lips. "Harry, we need to clear something up. Last night... last night never happened. None of it. Not with her, not with you. Nothing. I just want to go home and take a shower. A nice, long, hot shower. And maybe watch a movie?"

A thousand thoughts flitted through Harry's mind; appropriate, stereotypical things that people - especially hero types - were supposed to say in such situations.

"Please Harry. Nothing happened. Nothing. Right?" He pleaded. "I just want to go home... nice and safe and... and..."

Wrapping his arms around Peter, Harry pulled him into his lap and kissed the crown of his head. "Nothing happened. There was a scuffle. That's all. Nothing else." He kissed him again. "What movie do you want to watch? Anything you like. If I don't own it, I'll go out and buy it."

"Don't leave!"

"Then I'll have Bernard get it." He eased Peter off his lap and turned him around to look him in the eye. "Are you alright?"

"I will be. Let's just leave, OK?" Peter's gaze dropped and his finger traced patterns on Harry's thigh.

"Of course."

As they stood to leave, a wind rushed through the tower and sand began piling up on the floor. Flint formed from the particles in the breeze and, though he technically didn't have lungs, exhaled a breath of relief.

"I've been looking everywhere for you two!" His face creased in concern. "Matthew and I were worried something happened."

"If Matthew came to you that meant his staying behind was a good thing," Harry helped Peter to his feet. "At least you came looking."

"At least I wasn't too late. What happened? What did she do?"

"That's..." Harry glanced at Peter. "A bad fight."

"Oh. Well... did you get the symbiote?"

"It... it got away." Harry dodged.

"So you did get it off her?" Flint felt confused. They weren't telling him something but he couldn't understand what, or why they would hide it.

"In a manner of speaking. Look, we're both really tired right now. We'd like to get home and get some rest."

"Need any help?"

"We'll be alright," Peter interjected. "If Harry doesn't mind carrying me?"

Harry broke into a soft grin. "I never mind that." Pain rankled his body, however, as soon as he attempted to lift Peter up.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Peter looked at him, worried. "I can try to swing if you're not."

"No, I'm fine. Just might need some looking into. That thing did a number on me. It's you I'm worried about - do you think you have a concussion?"

"I recovered pretty quickly," Peter reassured him. "I should be fine."

Each had his doubts about the wellness of the other, but neither protested any further. Cradling Peter and gritting his teeth to shut out the pain, Harry revved the Sky Stick into action. Flint dematerialized into a particle cloud and carefully surrounded them, obscuring their features from anyone who might be looking up. They made their way back to the penthouse and the moment they were in through the bay windows, Harry shut them and drew the curtains. They weren't going out again that day, at least.

Fatigue crept into every one of his muscles and made Peter feel as though he were constantly on the verge of collapse. He made it back to his room on his own steam, however, and went into the private bath adjoining it. As he began running hot water for a bath, Harry appeared at the door.

"Do you need any help?"

"No thank you," Peter declined, kneeling next to the tub and inhaling a cloud of scented steam as he poured a bubble bath mixture into the water. "I think I need to be alone for a bit."

Harry nodded and then crouched down beside him, touching his shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you Peter. It was just..."

"No need to apologize Harry. I know what the suit is like; I did worse to you and don't fault you for what you did. I really don't want to talk about it though."

Nodding again, Harry stood and left without another word. Once he was in his own room, he sighed in aggravation. He wanted to talk about it, wanted to scream his frustration and vent his anger, wanted to comfort Peter if that was what he needed. Instead all Peter seemed to want was silence. Though he wanted to respect Peter's wishes, he felt suffocated by them, as if they were simply avoiding the issue and making it worse. Bringing this up to Peter without reminding him of the evening's traumas, however, would be impossible.

Unlike Peter, he settled for a show, scrubbing the dirt and blood off until his skin was raw and the scabs that had formed were torn off. Blood and dirt and sweat all went down the drain and he watched it vanish with a satisfied look, as if he were washing away the memories and the happenings of the night itself. He applied soap and shampoo again and again, then simply stood and let the water pound him. The shower was a particularly expensive one with jets in numerous places and he turned them on, feeling the water knead his sore skin.

Dripping but somewhat relaxed, he came out and pulled on a t-shirt and boxers before falling onto the bed, not even bothering with covers. His body still had a ways to go to repair itself and energy spent moving about could be put to better use fixing the unseen mess that the symbiote had made of his organs. Though he had protested his health to Peter, it was all the formula could do to keep him upright and functioning. While he slept he was dead to the world; but he could still be heard, faintly breathing. It was something of a miracle once again that he slept the sleep of rest and not the sleep of death.

In his own room, Peter lowered himself into the tub, glad that the sight of his body was obscured by bubbles and foam. Even so, it wasn't long before he noticed that the water had turned a muddy shade of pink, colored by the dust and blood sloughing off his body. Scents of lavender and rose tickled his nostrils and, sighing, he lowered himself even further into the massive marble tub. The lights in the bathroom were on a dimmer switch and he'd set them low, creating a sense of twilight, a place not quite in darkness or in light. Though the hot water hurt a bit at first when it touched his tender flesh, he acclimated to it and it began relaxing the tension out of his muscles. Closing his eyes and shutting out all thought, Peter gradually drifted off to sleep himself.

Knowing he needed to stay far away from water and sensing that he couldn't help much regardless, Flint waited anxiously in the living room. Hours passed but neither boy emerged and he wondered if he should go and check on them. Their obvious desire to be alone, however, made him reluctant. The monotony of waiting was finally broken when Matthew returned from his own patrol, dressed in his red outfit.

"Hey," Flint greeted him sullenly.

"Flint! Did you find them?"

"Yeah. They're getting cleaned up and resting."

"Did they say what happened?"

"Not really. There was a fight but we already kinda knew that." Flint shrugged. "I dunno. Feels like somethin's not right but they don't wanna talk."

"I see." Matthew paused and looked in the direction of the rooms on the upper floor. "How long have you been back?"

"Not sure. Four hours, five maybe."

"And they haven't come out in all that time?"

"No."

Matthew frowned; it wasn't unusual for them to be tired and want to rest after what had to be a harrowing experience. Matthew knew that from his own ordeals. Yet Flint was obviously concerned about something and he wondered what might have happened that they would refuse to tell Flint about. A few options came to mind and none of them were particularly good. Any confirmation of these possibilities, however, would have to wait for the two of them to wake up so they could tell him whatever they were willing to about the night; and possibly more than they meant to if he could read their reactions.

Settling himself down for a wait, Matthew changed out of his costume in a bathroom down the hall and accepted some refreshment when Bernard came in, offering. It gradually became later and later until he finally decided that he should at least check on them if they were sleeping, to make sure they were alright.

Going to Harry's room first, he knocked. "Harry?" A moment passed without a response so he opened the door a crack and poked his head in. "Harry, are you there?"

"Unh..." A groan came from the bed. "Sorry. Sleeping. Matt?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Hey. How are you?"

"I'm glad you're alive," he smiled. "Where's Peter?"

"He was in his room," Harry said as he swung his legs around the bed and onto the floor. Standing, he pulled a dresser open and pulled out a pair of pants and tugged them on. "Were you looking for us too?"

"Yes. I came around not long after Flint got back. He told me about you two getting captured - are you both alright?"

"Well as we can be, I suppose," Harry replied with a shrug as he buttoned up a shirt. His heart was pounding, however, and Matthew could tell his voice was strained. It seemed that Flint was right; more was wrong than they were letting on.

"Do you want me to go and check on Peter?"

"I'll come," Harry offered and went over to the room with Matthew. When they got there, it was deserted so Harry went into the bathroom. It was rather dark and Peter was still sitting in the bath, lightly snoring. Dipping a finger into the water, Harry found it to be completely cold and realized that Peter must have been sleeping the entire time. The bubbles had all popped and all that was left was murky water with a thin layer of grim and soap scum on top, making a ring around the tub. Looking down, Harry frowned, trying to decide whether it would be better to move him and let him sleep or wake him up.

Turning around, he told Matt in a hushed voice that Peter was sleeping and wondered if he should move him or wake him.

"Wake him gently," Matthew advised. "Trying to dry him off so he would be comfortable would only wake him up anyway, in an awkward fashion."

Harry nodded his assent and went back in, kneeling next to the tub and shaking Peter gently by the shoulder. "Peter? The water's gone cold. You need to wake up."

Peters eyes cracked open and when he saw Harry he sat up with a sudden splash. "Harry!"

"Hey, sleepy-head," Harry smiled fondly.

"Harry, I'm in the tub!"

"I know; I didn't think you should sleep in there all night. The water's gone cold by now and I'm sure your skin is wrinkly from staying in too long."

"Harry, I'm naked," he flushed and drew his knees up to his chest.

For a moment, Harry was confused; it was nothing he hadn't seen before or didn't plan - or at least hope - to see in the future. Then recalling what Peter had been through, he nodded. "I'll give you your privacy," he said, beating a hasty retreat. "We'll be out in the living room when you're done."

Once Harry was out, Peter sighed and drained the tub, turning on the shower so he could rinse off. He washed his hair then turned the water off and reached for one of the plush towels hanging on the nearby rack. He dried himself off as quickly as possible then pulled on an old shirt and pair of jeans that were worn but comfortable. Running his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb, he gave himself a quick glance in the mirror, trying not to notice the dark circles under his eyes, then went to join Harry and Matthew.

He found them waiting, Harry on the couch and Matt in a chair; he took a seat next to Harry, hoping the discussion he was sure Matt would want to delve into wouldn't be long.

"What happened?" He asked, curious as Flint had been.

Harry tried to keep calm, remembering how skilled Matt was at reading non-verbal signals. "Gwen carried us off but I stirred part of the way through the flight and got free. When we got back to her place, I took her by surprise then freed Peter. We fought her and dragged her off to the tower and removed the symbiote, but it escaped before we could trap it or contain it."

"I see."

It was a lie that Matthew recognized and Harry knew that he was aware of it. Yet neither made a move to say so and Peter didn't bother to contradict the story. Instead, he fidgeted and keep looking away or down at the floor.

"Can we go now?" He asked, his voice thin and agitated. He stood without waiting for a reply. "Harry? Movie?"

"Be there in a second," he called over his shoulder, then faced Matthew. "That's what happened," he insisted in a quiet, urgent tone.

"Harry... Harry this is a mistake. What really happened?" Harry stayed silent. "It was Peter, wasn't it? Harry, you two shouldn't do this..."

"I know that. I know it's a mistake." He stood himself. "But we already agreed. What I told you is, as far as we're concerned, what happened." He turned and started to walk away. "I have to go; I don't want to keep Peter waiting."

Sighing, Matthew watched him leave; it worried him but there wasn't much he could do apart from wait for the right time. He had a hearing in the morning anyway, so he went home trying to focus on that instead. He left them there, trying to console each other while pretending that nothing had happened that required anything but bodily healing.

OOO

A/N: And the aftermath. I'm still not sure whether this fic merits a T or an M so if you have thoughts, let me know. More next chapter about other consequences as well as more P/H moments. Also - I'm looking for another Spidey-project to try so if anybody has any requests or suggestions for what I might do, I'd love to hear them. This will still be a primary focus but I'd like to stretch my writing skills a bit with a one-shot or two. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.