AN: I do not own the Avengers or Spiderman.

Wow, another chapter already. I think I must have caught the writing bug today.

I wanted to make a reply to one of my regular reviewers, TeamCaptain2016. Firstly, thank you very much for all your reviews. I've noticed that you have been reading this story for a long time, so I am very glad that you have been enjoying it and that you have stuck with it! I found your comment about Tony being perhaps less emotional than you expected in the last chapter to be really interesting. One of the reason I starting this story was so that I can experiment with writing in first person for future stories. I wonder whether that fact might have made Tony feel less emotional than normal - everything he felt had to be shown only through actions and words unlike Peter's feelings with which there is free reign. I see Tony as quite an internal person, so this was quite difficult to find the balance on. Its definitely something I will have to take into account when writing my own originals. Thank you for bringing it up. I added a conversation towards to end of this chapter to show his feelings further. Enjoy!

Things were looking up. I can't say they were completely better yet mind, but then again, there's never been any moment in my life where everything was perfect all at once. My wrist was still very, very sore. I had been right to think I had broken it - in fact Bruce said I had pretty much messed it up completely and that I would have been in deep trouble if I was an ordinary person:

"If I was normal, I wouldn't have been there in the first place so…" I trailed off as I reminded him of this fact. Examining it had been more or less the first thing that we did when the jet had landed back at base. I thought I had hidden the fact that I had hurt it quite well, but apparently not as well as I thought seeing that no-one was surprised by the diagnosis. To my annoyance, Bruce had already insisted that I had to wear a guard to protect it: no matter how much I would dissuade him on the basis that it would heal soon enough with my powers, I knew I wouldn't win, especially considering the firm, unyielding expressions on absolutely everyone else's faces who despite our differences, were not afraid to stand their ground of this one. Perhaps they had noticed the marks where the ropes had laid into them which were still visible - the constant reminder of what had happened must only made them more concerned.

By this point, Steve was dealing with the fallout from the broken accords. I didn't envy him – General Cross had been waiting on the ground for our arrival: he looked furious and had whisked Steve away before we even knew what was happening. He had wanted Tony too, but he wasn't going to let himself be taken anywhere. The truth was that Tony hadn't left my side since we had arrived.

Tony. We still hadn't managed to have that conversation. Most of the time, I avoided his gaze – he was acting so unlike himself, latching on to me like some sort of lost puppy and shouting at anyone who tried to talk to me. It was a little much actually, for once I could sympathise with how Happy must have felt when I had hounded him with text messages.

Honestly though, I'd have appreciated some company if I hadn't felt so awkward with the situation: I had nothing to say to Tony at all. He told me that he didn't care about me - If this was his way of making amends after everything that had happened, it was the wrong way to go about it. Feeling guilty wasn't going to change how he thought inside. It was just a front, a falsehood that would only last so long. No, I had to forget about Tony. He didn't matter to me.

That's what I tried to tell myself anyway. Except he did matter. His thoughts meant probably too much to me. I just wished he would just say his mind straight out in the open like he did with everything else, then at least I would know where I stood, and I wouldn't be waiting in this limbo for someone to make a move and talk.

There wasn't much of the day left after all this, but what there was seemed to drag on forever what with everyone's fussing around – they were never normally like this. Normally they just left me to do whatever I wanted on my own but today was different: Clint made sure we played at least 3 games on the TV, saying he had missed his gaming buddy despite the fact that we had only ever played just a few games before everything had happened. Wanda, unfortunately with Vision helping, a recipe for disaster, made me my favourite meal for tea which I had devoured seeing as it was my first proper food for days on end. I even caught Natasha breaking into my old room (how I managed to notice her I don't know), and though she wouldn't tell me what she was doing, Friday later warned me that my door and window was set up to give an unwelcome surprise to anyone who wasn't supposed to me there.

I suppose they were only trying to make me feel welcome again. They had already made me promise that I would stay the night so I guess I should be grateful that it showed that someone cared. Tony didn't.

Only everything changed that night. I guess, I started to realise it just as I was going to bed. A few minutes prior, Tony was persuaded to finally leave my side, though he did so grudgingly. The reason was that Steve had only just returned from the talks he had been required to sit through, and though he'd rather not, he knew he had to catch up on what was going on. I excused myself quickly after that, with the knowledge that if I left now, I might finally be able to slip away before Tony realised what was happening.

I was rounding the first corner when I came upon them. They were talking in hushed voices, though with my hearing it was no real challenge to understand them. At first, it was literally just about the accords as expected. General Cross really wasn't happy, something about a board meeting we all had to go to, and so on. I would have quite easily left them if they weren't inadvertently blocking my path onwards and if I wasn't trying to avoid them. In fact, I was just about to turn around and go to the room a different way when Steve asked something that made me stop in my tracks.

"How's he holding up?" Did I mention the fact that I'm not normally an eavesdropper, but you try walking away when you hear someone is talking about you.

"Yeah. Think he'll be ok eventually." Tony replied hesitantly. Then after a moments thought he continued. "He's putting up a brave face." Was I? I hadn't realised I was, but then again, I had wanted to curl up in a ball all afternoon and I forced myself not to – was that what he meant?"

"It's understandable." Steve replied, acknowledging the information. Then he asked another question even more tentatively, "How about you?"

"Me?" Tony replied incredulously, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be." Steve gave him a look which said only too plainly what he thought. "I don't know what to say to him." Tony continued honestly, "I said so much before, and now… I never expected this to happen."

"None of us did." Steve reassured him as Tony quietened down at the end.

"That doesn't change what I said. He should never have been out on the streets that night. That was on me." He said honestly. "When we got him back I…," Tony broke off suddenly

I stood, dumbfounded. Thoughts were running through my head so quickly that I couldn't decide which one to settle on. One part of me felt angry at him: I didn't know whether he was just feeling guilty about what happened to me, rather than feeling guilty about what he said. Nor did understand why he was trying to put the blame on himself. There was no question that if I had been a bit cleverer then the entire problem wouldn't have occurred, I just wouldn't have been captured. Or maybe I was wrong about him… maybe he did regret the words he said after all.

But even if he regretted them, it doesn't mean to say they weren't true. With this thought, I moved quickly from the area, knowing that I had to get away from them before they said anything else and confuse the issue further.

I went back the different way to my room to settle down for the night. My mind was whirling, trying to focus on every little detail and make it into something bigger and more problematic. Bruce knocked on the door at one point with an IV in hand – he said I needed to make up some of the blood that I had lost, only the cord was in an awkward position and only reminded me of things that I'd rather not think about. I desperately needed the sleep, but the night that followed was restless and uneasy.