Natasha was getting tired of doing these calls in bathrooms.

She got a look from Steve as she darted into the quinjet's restroom that she didn't like; it was his 'I'm concerned about you and we will talk about this later' look, which promised nothing good. Not that she thought he'd actually find much, as only she and Fury were aware of their true origins, but she didn't need fuel for her paranoia.

She locked the door and got as far as she could to the back wall, then called Alex. Natasha had to wait a few moments for her to pick up, but when she did, the woman sounded sharp as could be.

"What is it?"

"We're coming for you and the kid. All of us except Vision."

It took Alex a whole fifteen seconds to respond. "Are we in any danger?"

"Satellites say no, but we can't be sure. But they're not safe in the hospital."

Alex sighed - she was probably look at them. "I… okay. Okay. We're just - what?"

"What's wrong?"

"I - um, yes, thank you, Mr. Hammer. I just - I'm on a call with someone could I…? Thank you, Mr. Hammer. It will just be a moment. Thank you for paying Peter's bill."

Natasha swore again.

"Okay, he's out of the room. But, I suppose you can already see the problem."

"Yeah, I can see it," Natasha muttered, "Keep Hammer occupied. Whatever he's there for, it won't be good. Don't leave Peter alone with him."

"Right. I - Petey? Hey, hey! I'm here. Go back to sleep. Don't worry about anything, sweetie, I'm just on a call. In fact…" Alex trailed off, "... someone's here to see you. But that can wait until the morning. Who are they? Oh, it's just - someone who wants to help, I'm sure, now go back to sleep, alright? You've earned it. Shh."

Natasha was half-waiting for the call the end, her eyes on the bathroom door. She knew the team couldn't know what she knew - which meant things were about to get so much more fun. Compartmentally speaking, of course.

"I'm sorry, I really need to-"

"-It's fine." Natasha cut in, "Do what you have to. Just keep Hammer occupied."

Alex hung up, and Natasha slid the burner into a pocket, right next to one of her pistols. She double checked it as she walked over to the sink, flushing the toilet along the way. She looked at herself in the mirror, studied the tired, beleaguered woman looking back. After a few moments, she turned on the sink and washed her hands. Natasha refused to let herself hesitate to open the bathroom door.

Natasha approached Wanda on her way to the cockpit, who was leaning against the wall opposite to Sam with closed eyes. She was breathing in slow and deep, at a steady pace. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4.

"You doing alright?" Natasha asked her, making the woman jump. For a moment, uncertain, almost fearful eyes stared at her. Wanda quickly recovered herself quickly, however. Natasha cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder, "Once this is done, we're having a session tomorrow."

Wanda inclined her head, her expression a painstaking neutral. "Okay."

"You'll do fine," Natasha told her, "even if Rumlow decides to cause an incident, you aren't alone. NYPD's been alerted, too. They're blocking off all entrances and exits to New York General as we speak."

The corners of Wanda's mouth upturned somewhat. "That's good."

"You're good." Natasha said as she removed her hand. She felt Wanda's gaze on her back as she approached the cockpit.

"Has FRIDAY seen anything suspicious yet?" Steve asked Tony.

"Doesn't seem like it." Tony grunted. "Hammer's in his bedroom, from all that FRIDAY can tell. Some associates of Rumlow were spotted around Parker's apartment, but they left around ten. Other than that, nothing."

"Anything suspicious about the hospital?" Steve crossed his arms as the Empire State Building came into view. The windows of the skyscrapers stood out like signal fires, burning almost in spite. Natasha stepped up next to Steve, eyeing the city warily.

"Staff seems clean," Tony said, "One of the docs is taking pharmacy money, but his boss will now about that in, what? Four hours? Cameras don't seem suspicious, either - no signs of tampering, but Parker ended up in a ward where they've been having problems recently, so I can't be entirely sure."

"NYPD?" Steve leaned forward a bit.

"All their officers on this case seem good, too." Tony said with a casual wave of his hand. "And the guys quarantining New York General are just like you, Cap. Nice and squeaky clean. And armed."

"Hilarious."

"Just trying to lighten the mood a little," Tony muttered. "Besides, I'd know if-" he threw a glance back at Steve, and hesitated. "-alright, geez."

"I remember watching kids die back in '45." Steve said, "Some were just eighteen. They could've gone to college. One was just seventeen."

"I get it." Tony said, "I-"

"-Need to fly this damn quinjet." Natasha cut him off. "A minor's life is on the line."

Tony took a second before he managed to nod, in which Natasha repeated the same mantra to herself: Richard and Mary Parker's son is in danger. May Parker's nephew is in danger.

Peter was very groggy, and everything was really loud. HIs head hurt... did May just say MC Hammer had paid his hospital bill?

"Shh." May said softly, a forced smile stretched across her tired face. She looked a bit odd, because she was balancing a phone on her shoulder, but Peter didn't care much. He felt guilt rising in him, seeping into everything with wraithlike speed. "Just go back to sleep, alright?"

Peter's eyes shot over to the door. He couldn't hear what they were saying very well. Something was wrong.

"Did you say MC Hammer?" he asked, letting his Aunt push him back against the bed. May blinked in response, then looked as if she might laugh for a moment, and then she schooled her face.

"I'm sorry, I really need to-" she whispered at the phone, then, even more weirdly, May hung up. She didn't even say goodbye.

Peter's eyes darted over to the doorway again. "Who's that?"

"Someone who paid your hospital bill, sweetheart," May placed her phone on the window sill, "Now go back to sleep, okay? I-"

The door to the room was pushed open, and a man wearing glasses and a cream-coloured three-piece strode in. "-I'm sorry to intrude, but I just had to - oh, you're awake!"

His gaze met Peter's, and almost immediately Peter didn't trust the guy. Everything about him screamed corporate sleaze, from the shiny brown shoes to the obviously gelled-back hair that came straight out of an 80s movie.

"Mr. Parker, I presume?" he asked, approaching Peter with an outstretched hand. Peter glanced towards May, and right before he could shake the guy's hand, May stood up.

"Mr. Hammer," she said politely, "Peter's been through so much. I think whatever you want to say can wait until morning."

Peter's eyes widened, and his blood ran cold. His breath caught in his throat, somewhere just under his larynx. Hammer. Justin Hammer. Of Hammer Industries. Who had nearly gotten him killed when he was eight. That guy had just paid his hospital bill?

Peter gawked, which he knew was rude, but dude… Justin Freaking Hammer was right in front of him.

"Nonsense!" Hammer said jovially, "He's a smart boy. Besides, I don't think he'll be sleeping anytime soon - I know how I was at that age." He laughed, then extended his hand again.

"Mr. Hammer, I know you paid our bill, but I have to ask you to leave. Now."

Hammer's expression melted. He lowered his hand, and cleared his throat. "Of course, Ms. Parker. I'm sorry. I just - I wanted to see your nephew. When I saw that he'd been shot, I just couldn't ignore it. I…" Hammer paused. His eyes lowered slightly, and his shoulders slumped a bit. "I know what I did to him, and to everyone else who was at that expo, and I made it my mission to help everyone I harmed that night. Your nephew was my starting point."

May nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Hammer. But please, let him rest."

Hammer nodded back. "I understand, Ms. Parker. But I insist. Just one minute. I've checked with the docs, and they don't have a problem with it." He smiled, and May shook her head.

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of me tomorrow."

Hammer pursed his lips. "Or now? If I'm quick?"

May crossed her arms, forming the beginnings of a glare. She glanced between Peter and Hammer several times, then at the bulky masses outside the room's window. She slowly withdrew her phone, and set a timer, starting it. "Alright."

"Right!" Hammer turned to Peter, and held out his hand once more. Peter shook it after a moment, peering at the maniac (ex-maniac?) warily.

"Mr. Parker," Hammer said solemnly, crouching down to Peter's level. "I know how you must be feeling. Who wouldn't be suspicious, right? I know what I did." Hammer looked down, as if he was sighing. "I can't explain the state I was in: there is nothing I can say that would be able to. I am glad to say, However, that I have spent the past several years with a behavioral therapist, who helped me redevelop… empathy." Hammer looked Peter in the eyes, with a look that put the boy on his backfoot; Justin Hammer, from what he knew about it him, was like Tony Stark: brash and arrogant, but still a very effective businessman nonetheless. But this… yeah Peter didn't know him personally, but he just looked so… tired. "I know what I did, and I know I could never be Tony Stark. But I was hoping I could turn things around…" Hammer reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a business card. "Starting with you."

Hammer put the business card in May's hands, then turned back to Peter. With that same absolutely exhausted, shameful look. The alarm went off. "I want to help you on your path, Mr. Parker. In whatever way I can. I've sent you an email which I think you'll find intriguing. Contact me as soon as you're better, okay, bud?"

Peter stared at him, his heart thumping in his chest. May's alarm was still ringing, her eyes utterly distrusting as she stopped the alar. He gulped, then nodded slowly. His head felt really heavy for some reason; maybe it was the fact that he'd been seeing Hammer's look in the mirror for months on end; maybe he was delirious. Whatever the reason, he responded quietly, "T-thank you, sir."

Mr. Hammer smiled gently, turning to May. "Thank for allowing that, Ms. Parker."

May nodded, her arms still crossed. "Thank you, Mr. Hammer. But I must ask you to go."

"Of course." Mr. Hammer said, "Good night and a speedy recovery to you, Peter."

"'Night." Peter weakly raised his hand, "t-thanks."