Author's note: I'm really enjoying the Avengers kick I'm on right now, so I'm going to make an actual story. But then it's back to my first love Stargate. Unless I figure out a way to make a crossover that isn't ridiculous. Thanks for reading. This will not follow the timelines exactly as I want to play with characters that might not normally be hanging out together.

Additional note: this is CHAPTER 1 for this story. Until I figure out how to fix whatever I did, this is going to have to be a placeholder for the chapter so new readers don't miss the beginning. I'm sorry for the confusion.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Something was nagging in the back of his mind. Not a bad something, just something that said he wasn't alone. It was one of those things that once he knew it he couldn't ignore it. And it wouldn't let him stay asleep, even though he was very tired.

Peter Parker opened his eyes, and was immediately confused. Both because he was most definitely not in his room, and because he had no idea how he got where he was – and no memory to help him figure it out. He stared up at the ceiling – which was starkly white but muted by a soft light that was flush with the paneling that he automatically counted as he tried to remember what had happened.

"Finally…"

He looked over at the familiar voice, and winced at the pain that seared through his head. Tony Stark was sitting beside the bed that he was in, and didn't miss the expression. He didn't say anything, though, he just leaned forward a little and put his hand on Peter's forehead, his eyes unreadable as he tested the boy's temperature.

"Mr. Stark?"

"No. I'm your Aunt May."

Peter frowned, uncertainly.

"What?"

Stark flashed a wry smile and took his hand back.

"Sorry. Bad joke and not the best time for it. How do you feel?"

"I don't – where am I? What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Peter shook his head.

"Nothing. I-"

The door to the room opened, drawing their attention and a man that looked vaguely familiar to Peter walked in. Tall, dark hair and a goatee with an intense gaze that matched Stark's when he looked over at Peter, the man closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. Tony stood as he approached.

"Peter Parker, meet Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Um… hi."

"A little more enthusiasm, Peter," Tony said. "Doctor Strange here probably saved your life."

"What?"

Strange shook his head, and leaned over Peter to run a hand along his forehead and then his cheek for just a moment before straightening up once more.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," he said, moving to the other side of the bed and expertly shifting Peter before he even knew what was happening. Suddenly the boy was more upright, with a couple of pillows propping him from behind and cradling his aching head. "You were very sick, but hardly at death's door."

"I don't understand." Peter looked from one man to the other.

"What do you remember?" Strange asked, echoing Tony without realizing it.

"Nothing."

"Being moved here?"

"No."

"Passing out in the middle of a web swing?"

Peter looked over at Tony, alarmed, and then back to the doctor.

"I don't know what-"

"It's okay, Peter," Stark said quickly. "He knows."

"He does?"

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"And he won't tell anyone."

"Pretty much everyone here already knows," Strange told him with a slight smile.

"Where are we?" Peter asked.

"The Avenger's facility," Stark answered.

"What? Why?"

"We couldn't have any doctors drawing a blood sample and learning what should best be kept under wraps," Strange replied. "Now relax, and tell me what you remember."

Peter felt like the floor had been pulled out from under him and between the pain in his head and the confusion in his mind, he couldn't have concentrated enough to remember his name just then. He brought his hand up to rub his face, tiredly, and realized that there was an IV line in the back of his hand. His gaze followed the line to a bag of clear liquid handing from a stand, but before he could say anything, Strange spoke up again.

"Try to concentrate, Peter."

"Why didn't you tell someone you were sick?" Tony asked – demanded, really.

"I'm not. I mean, I didn't think I was. Just a cold. Everyone has it."

"Yes," Strange agreed. "A lot of students at your school did, but it's not a cold – and none seem to have been hit the way you were. I've never seen a reaction like yours."

"Next time, say something."

Tony had taken a scare he wasn't willing to admit, but he was more than ready to lash out at the one who'd scared him.

"I'm sick?" Peter asked.

"You're getting better," Strange answered, glaring at Stark for confusing his patient further. Obviously the boy didn't need a lecture right then. "But you are still sick, yes."

"Does May know?"

"That you're sick?" Tony asked. "Of course."

"That I'm…" Peter looked over at Strange. "You know…"

"She knows that you're sick. She knows that I found you delirious by the river – which is true. She doesn't know that Karen called for help when she realized that something was wrong and that I had you brought here to keep your secret identity a secret. She thinks that I brought you here for special treatment – also true – since the good doctor here is treating you special."

"Thank you."

Since neither man knew who he was talking to – or what part he was talking about – they both simply nodded.

"Do you think you're up to actually eating something?" Strange asked. "We should probably start trying to get some weight back on you."

"Aunt May's gotta be freaking out," Peter said, suddenly, sitting more upright and ignoring the way his head started protesting the quick motion. "I need to call her and-"

"She's here," Tony told him, putting a hand on the boy's chest to hold him still. "Relax."

"She'll be better now that you're awake," Strange said, looking Peter over with an experienced eye. He looked better than he had, but the illness had definitely taken a toll.

"How long have I been here?"

"About a week."

"Six days," Stark replied at the same time.

Peter was stunned, but Strange stepped in before he could get worked up.

"You need to relax, Peter," he said, smoothly. "She's fine and you will be, too." He sat next to the bed and pulled a rolling stand over. "Give me your hand."

When Peter complied he quickly removed the IV and then moved everything out of the way as he stood up again.

"What does he need?" Tony asked.

"Solid food and a chance to get his bearings." Strange turned for the door but stopped and turned with his hand on the knob. "Don't eat too much or you'll get sick. I'll be back later to check on you."

He left before Peter could reply, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone.