(author's note: Guys, I'm such an idiot. I totally fucked up and forgot to copy/paste a part of chapter 37 (Brooklyn) into . Peter's POV from that confrontation is missing and... well... #oops I just noticed about 20 minutes ago.

It's super embarrassing and I still can't quite believe that this actually happened but first I want to thank the dear Leandrazer for asking if maybe they had missed part of the confrontation between the Rogues and Peter cause they only remembered Tony stepping in. Maybe I should have noticed when a couple of people said they would have loved for Peter to go harder on Rogers, but you know... lol. *facepalm*

So, that part of the fight was originally supposed to be the end of chapter 36, which is why on my hard drive that's where it still is. But then I moved it to Chapter 37 and when I published 37 I forgot to go back to 36, copy the end and paste it at the beginning of the next chapter, because either I had a brain freeze or it was like 2 am and I was just too giddy to get it out that I completely forgot.

Soooo, yeeeeah... I added Peter's missing POV at the beginning of chapter 37, where it was supposed to be and if you want to check it out you should. :P)


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Chapter 41 - I Got You

The sky had almost completely darkened. Mount Washington State Forest to their left obstructed most of the western horizon, but there was a bit of an orange glow that still shone above them, the last light of the day. Tony's skin was hot, almost blazing as he wiped a hand across his face, his body still pumping adrenalin from the fight and worry about the unconscious boy in his arms. He had forgone the seatbelt in his haste to maneuver Peter into the backseat, but the speed at which Natasha was driving down the lonely country road made him question that particular choice. For Peter's sake.

He sat behind the passenger seat, his right arm tightly woven around the boy's torso, holding him close. Peter's head rested on Tony's chest, his body spread halfway across Tony's lap, upper body wrapped in a blanket with his legs elevated on the other two seats. Tony awkwardly fumbled around with the seat belt all the while his arm held Peter close, then the buckle slipped into the lock with a metallic click. That was better. Safer. He pulled the boy a bit closer, careful not to hit any of the bruises or the chaffed skin around his arms.

Peter's skin was the exact opposite of Tony's, slick with cold sweat. The A/C in the car was working overtime and the icy stream of air that blasted into the back probably wasn't helping.

"Turn down the A/C, will you," he said quietly, but Natasha had heard and looked away from the road into the review mirror. Her hand shot up to adjust it just enough so she could see Tony's reflection.

"It's almost 90 degrees in here."

"He's shivering, Nat. It's blasting out of those vents as if we were driving through a fucking blizzard."

She didn't argue, changed the A/C to manual and turned the intensity almost all the way down.

"Pete, come on," Tony whispered. "Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, buddy."

The kid's face was puffy and swollen around the wounds above his eye and on his jaw where the skin had been broken where the kidnappers had struck him and possibly the torture methods they had put the kid through. There were marks on his cheeks where they had pulled the ties holding the gag so tightly that they cut into his skin. From this angle, Tony couldn't see the wounds on Peter's neck, where they had injected who-knew-what into his system to keep him weak and manageable, but he knew they were there. He had seen the distinct markings when Rogers had carried the boy from the room, wrapped in that blanket, his head swaying on the Captain's shoulder, exposing the bloodshot round injection sites on his neck.

He had wanted to take the boy out of Rogers' arms the second he saw them, but his muscles were positively shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline and Rogers had insisted. Peter's weight was nothing to the super-soldier after all. They didn't say a word to each other while they climbed back up to the surface. Outside in the open yard, Rogers carefully put the boy down, sitting on the grass his torso reclined against Tony. Not near the entrance, not where the bodies of Sallic and his two minions lay. On the other side of the yard, in the shade of the trees sheltered from the low but hot afternoon sun. Tony had pressed his keys into the Captain's hand and he was off to retrieve the car while Tony had held the kid close, tried to rouse him from unconsciousness. They had to leave fast. Peter needed help.

Natasha decided that she would drive them and Tony didn't see a point to argue with her. Like this, he could at least give Peter his full attention. They left Rogers and Barton behind to handle the clean up and sped off back towards the Compound.

"What about Pennsylvania?" She didn't look at him, her eyes on the narrow road ahead.

"FRI, is Tyler Hill, PA, dealt with?" Her orders had been clear.

"Boss, detonation went as projected. The security partitions sustained minor damages. The targets were neutralized and 5% of the inventory was lost in the process. Pennsylvania State Police was informed of a break-in that triggered the defense installation."

Natasha's glanced at the head-up display, then at Tony through the mirror. "You have your AI installed in the car?"

"Cause I do."

She shook her head. "Why am I even driving?"

"Because people freak out when nobody's sitting in either of the front seats."

"Please tell me that's not a realization that came to you through trial and error."

He ignored her teasing. This wasn't the time for light-hearted chatter.

"What happened with Sallic?"

Tony sucked in a lung full of air. "They got nervous when they figured out that their comms were down. Barton went for the two minions first, then for Sallic."

"What all three of them? Did they just stand there waiting to be shot?"

That wasn't quite what had happened. "There was enough confusion for him to get the other two men quickly. Sallic... I made sure Sallic didn't get away."

Tony had lunged for the asshole. He might have been taller than him but he'd need more that that to intimidate Tony. A well-placed kick to his stomach then his throat had the asshole hunched over. Tony was fast to get his hands on the man, to see his fist smash into Sallic's face. The asshole tried to fight back but Tony had placed his first two assault well enough to disorient the guy. It took a knee to Tony's stomach for him to pull back from the pain. He was almost disappointed when Barton's third arrow had brought the fight to a fast end.

He looked down at the boy in his arm now, anger still burning in his veins. Not anger. Cold hate.

"He's gonna be fine, Tony."

He didn't look up at Natasha's words, kept his eyes down and struggled to keep a lit on his breathing. This was on him. He had pushed the boy out.

"I need you to pull yourself together, Stark." She said sharply. "You're white as a sheet. You can't keel over right now."

"I'm not." He pressed out through gritted teeth.

"Alright then." She cleared her throat. "Stating the obvious here, but you need to get his blood work done asap."

"I know." Of course, he knew. He could have any kind of mixed drug cocktail in his system, eating him from the inside.

"Tony, I'm talking DNA." He did look up at that and found her eyes shifting back and forth between Tony's reflection in the review mirror and the road ahead. "I know, you don't want to hear that right now but they were very sure that they knew who he is. There must be a reason why they picked him, intern or not. He's not the only intern that works at SI who might look a bit like you. Though he does... he does kinda look a lot like you." She tried to catch his eye in the review mirror but he wasn't interested in her conspiracy theories. "But there must be another reason why they thought... why they thought that the boy is your son. If there is any chance that—"

"There isn't," he bit out. He shook his head, eyes back on Peter. One of his hands softly ran through the boy's hair, across his temples hoping to coax him back to consciousness.

"Why would they think that the kid is Aiden if—"

"Stop. Romanoff, just stop." Tony's eyes burned not just with sleep deprivation but with emotion as he stared at her. "Please, just stop. You don't even know what you're saying. It's not him. I'd know, alright? I'd know!"

Natasha blinked at him a couple of times before her eyes were back on the road and she was visibly biting her tongue. Those people were idiots, that was all. They witnessed a kid who walked in and out of the Tower a few times a week, probably found out that he was working in Tony's own lab and apparently came to the conclusion that the only boy that Tony could tolerate in his space like that would have to be... would have to be his son. Because who else could Tony Stark learn to— He shoved the thought aside and rubbed a hand across his face, the other arm still clutching Peter tightly. The kid would be fine. He had to be.

With a deep exhale, he threw his head back against the headrest and shot a quick look out of the window. They were just about to his the main road going west towards New York. Just then Natasha slowed down at the intersection and made a right turn. A turn the east.

"What are you doing, Nat? That's the wrong direction!"

She shook her head once, eyes firmly on the road. "There's a good emergency room in Great Barrington, that's maybe 15 minutes from here."

"What... no! No, we can't go to a hospital! Turn around! We need to go to the Compound!"

Her eyes met his in the review mirror. "Tony, it's more than an hour's drive to the Compound. We have no idea what they shot him up with. They slammed his head into the concrete floor and those cuts on his chest. He needs medical attention and fast. I know the resources at the Compound are far superior but he needs help now."

"We can't— Turn around. Nat, turn around!" As she opened her mouth to argue again, he threw caution to the wind. "Peter is the Spiderling. We can't bring him to a regular hospital. They can't help him. They can't know! He needs Helen!"

Natasha stared at him for a moment, before she cursed and pulled the car onto the gravel next to the lane. She hit the breaks hard in the process and Tony's arms tightened around Peter. That seat belt had been a good idea.

"Fucking hell, Tony!" she banged her hands on the steering wheel and craned her neck as she checked for traffic, then pulled the car around, back onto the road, now driving west. "You said he's your intern! And Steve, Steve said he—"

"He is," Tony bit back. "He is my intern."

"I don't— Urgh! God, this is a fucking mess!"

Tony swallowed hard, eyes back on Peter, whose breathing was still shallow, his skin refusing to warm up and Tony made a point to pull the blanket over his exposed arm as well. "I made him take the internship so I could keep an eye on him. It was just to keep an eye on him."

Natasha took a few breaths, stayed quiet for a few minutes, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

"You've been doing a little more than just keeping an eye on him," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her tone stung him. Like she thought she had deduced something that he didn't want to see and Tony could imagine a whole string of ideas that Natasha might thought she was deducing.

"Stop analyzing this, Nat. I get what it looks like."

"He grew on you. That's not a crime."

Tony bit his lip. "It's not like—" and gave his head a small shake. "I just wanted to make sure he'd be safe. I— He went out there dressed in a polyester onesie trying to help people and it almost got him killed."

Natasha blew out a deep exhale, eyes on the road. "God, when you said that Spider-Man's just a kid, I thought you meant he was young not that he's actually a minor!"

A shaky hand back in Peter's hair, Tony's thumb drew slow circles across his temple. "I just... I was just trying to keep him safe."

This naively positive kid, who had turned up on his doorstep, bleeding out right there on his balcony the same day he had singlehandedly saved the lives of countless New Yorkers. He had tried to save the kid from himself and then... and then he had fucked it all up. Had severed his ties to him. Idiot. Fucking asshole. The boy had overstepped, had... had made a mistake, not listened to him, yes. But instead of helping him, letting him learn and grow he had pushed him out into the cold because his ego was bruised. Barred him from the one thing that might have kept him safe, that he had built to protect the boy. In the end, Tony had not been able to protect him from the most predictable danger of them all. The sheer association with Tony had put him in jeopardy.

"I took his suit away." Tony bit the inside of his cheeks so hard it stung but he relished in the little shots of pain. "After... after he went for Cap last week, I... I took the suit and I told him he was done, that I... that I would turn him in if he... that—"

"Do you really need me to tell you, that this isn't on you, Tony? You know that it's not. The suit wouldn't have been any help to him in this."

"They must have ambushed him, drugged him. With the suit, they'd have never been able to—"

"If he would have even been wearing it at the time. You don't even know that he would have."

"I pushed him out. Left him alone to deal with everything on his own. I'm such an—"

"Tony!"

He shut up, absolutely avoiding to look at her.

"He got taken. It likely would have happened either way."

Tony shook his head. It didn't matter. The details didn't matter. He should have been there for him. He should have cautioned the boy, prepped him better. He had promised to have the kid's back and when he had fucked up once, Tony had just dropped him like an asshole.

"Tony..."

"I heard you."

Natasha sighed but didn't argue her point, just drove on in silence. She wasn't done yet though, he could tell before she even spoke up again.

"You took the suit because he went for Steve? He went for him without you... that takes some guts."

Tony sniffed out a dry laugh. "Guts, huh? It was stupid and reckless."

"And loyal. And honorable that he was standing up for you."

Tony shook his head.

"How did he find out?" He arched his brows at her, but she didn't look into the mirror as she clarified. "About Siberia?" Her jaw was working, waiting for the right words to come to her, her eyes still on the street. "Steve didn't tell us any details. Nothing much at all until this week. Just that there was a fight. You're worse than him. You'd never spill this if you could help it."

His hand was still in the boy's hair, slowly rubbing soothing circles into his skin, careful to avoid any bruises. Maybe he should have said something. Maybe he could have stopped this.

"He accidentally hacked my private server and found the footage of the fight that my suit had recorded."

"Shit, he made it onto your server?" Her eyes were wide, eyebrows drawn up high. "That's pretty—"

"If you're gonna say impressive, I'll throw something."

She shrugged. "What would you call it?"

"Disrespectful. Illegal. Deceitful. Offensive." Tony bit his lip and pulled the kid a little closer. "Fucking impressive."

"What you're saying is he saw that footage of the fight and went straight for Steve? Must be quite the footage."

"I wouldn't know."

"You never watched it?"

"Did I watch the footage of the guy who was supposed to be my teammate lie to me and then almost beat me to death? No, I didn't watch that." If she was trying to distract him from the kid by winding him up about Siberia and Rogers, he had to say, it was working.

"You really think he'd do that on purpose? That he would try to kill you?"

Tony shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I think it does. I think you guys might come back from one of those scenarios, not so much the one where he actively tries to kill you."

"He had me pinned to the ground and smashed his shield into me so hard that it shattered my sternum and fractured several vertebras so severely that they didn't know if the swelling in my neck would paralyze me first and then cut off the oxygen to my brain or the other way around. You really think that's something our loving working relationship can come back from?"

Natasha stayed quiet, eyes not on him but the road. He already regretted saying anything. It didn't matter. It was over.

"It's true then, what the boy said? About your coma?"

He swallowed hard, eyes back on Peter. "Does that matter now?"

"It matters to me." Her tone. Her fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Tony couldn't shake the feeling that she might actually mean that. He had to remind himself that Natasha Romanoff could make anyone believe anything she'd want them to believe. "Steve. He was supposed to tell you. Months ago, years... 2 years ago."

Tony pulled his eyes away from the kid and looked up at her, but Natasha was still staring forward.

"Two years? You've known for two years?"

She shook her head, teeth pressed tightly together. "I thought you knew. I thought he told you. I thought that's why you were fighting all the time."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"I'm sorry, Tony. I truly am." He did find her eyes evenly on him in the review mirror at that. "I was sure that he would tell you otherwise I would have."

Tony turned away from her glance, teeth grazing his lower lip. "Why would he? He never trusted me. Nothing I did was ever enough for Steve. It was like being on a team with a stronger, prettier reincarnation of my father. How was that ever—" He bit his tongue. He had to shut up. None of that mattered now. It was done. His attention should be on the boy in his arms. He frowned down at the kid's face. Peter's eyes seemed to be moving behind his closed lids.

"He's not Howard. For all his faults Steve—"

"Pete?"

She fell silent, thankfully, because there was more movement in the kid's face, a twitch of his lip, almost a frown on his forehead. "Pete, come on. Open your eyes, kid. Come on, now."

The boy's lashes fluttered against his cheeks and then his eyes did open. Tony's breath caught as the boy looked right at him.

"You're alright, Pete. You're safe. We're getting you to the Compound."

Peter opened his mouth, but not a single sound came over his lips.

"It's alright. You don't have to talk. It's— Hey... hey, Pete... Pete, stay with me." The kid blinked again, slowly, like his eyelids were just too heavy for him to keep them open. "Come on, buddy."

Tony tapped his fingers softly against the boy's cheek, fighting for his attention but he wasn't sure if Peter had even recognized that he was looking at a person, let alone Tony. The kid's whole body now stirred in his arms, still strong and difficult for him to hold onto. Peter drew his knees closer to his chest, slowly convulsing around his middle. Tony tried to keep the blanket wrapped around him, keep him warm and safe, but he didn't want to hold him too tightly. He'd only seen a gimps of what lay underneath that blanket. Of what they had done to the kid. Just the thought made Tony's stomach turn. This wasn't the time. This wasn't about him. Peter had to be in pain and he had to help, had to do something. The kid turned his face towards Tony's chest and buried himself into his shirt. His own pulse was a mess, but Tony tried to keep his breathing calm, to keep his head clear. He carefully tried to uncurl Peter, have him look at him.

"You need to fight it, Pete. You need to stay awake. Come one, buddy." He just couldn't keep the despair out of his voice.

A low groan was all the kid managed in response if it even was in response to Tony. He needed Peter to be awake, preferably talking. There was a giant bump on the back of his head that most likely had come with a severe concussion. He needed to stay conscious. Plus, these assholes might have told him something about whatever they had shot him up with. Maybe Helen would be able to help him faster if they knew more. And if the boy would fall unconscious again, what if... what if he never—

Peter took in a couple of sharp breaths then opened his eyes again, rapidly blinking but now his eyes moved back and forth, looking.

"I'm right here, kid. I got you."

The boy did look at him. He did see him. There was no rhythm to the way air was rushing in and out of his throat, he just panted erratically, then his hand flew up and grabbed the front of Tony's shirt. Tony's own hand reached for Peter's, squeezing it.

"I'm right here, Pete. You're gonna be okay!"

Peter moved his head from side to side in a bit of a shake but ended on a small nod, eyes on Tony through it all. Tony's hand slowly combed through the boy's hair, hoping to soothe his senses.

"Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?" The light was almost steadily fading but the kid's big brown eyes were shining bright with tears. "What hurts the most, Pete? Arms? Ribs? Your head? The... erm... your chest? Pete?"

Tony watched helplessly as the boy fought against exhaustion and the drugs that were still running through his system, fought to keep his eyes open but after less than a minute of consciousness, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out in Tony's arms.

"Just talk to him, Tony." He couldn't even bear to look up at Natasha. "He might hear. Just keep talking."

He repositioned Peter in his arms, pulled him closer to his chest again, his hold tight on the small frame of the boy. He could practically feel Natasha's eyes on him, watching him, but that didn't matter now. Only Peter mattered now.

"It's alright. You're gonna be fine, kid. Just fine. You're safe now." His voice was low, heart still beating at a crazy rhythm in his chest. "I'm right here, Pete. It's gonna be okay."

Peter's lashes twitched from time to time but he didn't open his eyes again. Tony's focus was only on the boy, studying every little move he made, only glancing outside occasionally to check where they were, how much longer it would take to get to the Compound. To get Peter help. Maybe he should have called a suit, flown them out. But that was everything but a safe option to move the unconscious boy. The added threat of them popping up on Ross' radar was not to be underestimated either. So all Tony could do now, was sit there and hope.

Helen and two nurses were waiting for them as their car rolled up in front of the Compound. The core team. He had called Helen, had asked her for only the essential personal. He did trust her to screen her staff but the fewer people knew the better. The two nurses helped him to maneuver Peter onto a stretcher and rolled him right into the building towards the medical wing. Their fast steps echoed through the corridor. Helen was next to him, walking alongside him, listening to every single word of his summery.

"They slammed his head against the concrete. He's bound to have a concussion. There are also the... the wounds on his chest and... and I'm not sure about everything. I know... I know they tortured him. Tried to get information out of him, but I'm worried about whatever they shot him up with most." He swallowed hard, his hand still clasping Peter's wrist. There was no way to know. "His metabolism is enhanced, probably faster than Rogers'. They had to have hit him with a whole lot of doses to keep him sedated or at least in check."

"How enhanced are we talking?" Helen was right next to him, keeping up with his fast steps.

"I... I don't really know all the physical details. He can stick to things, heals fast." His hand tightened around the boy's wrist. He did heal fast. He would... he should be okay, right? He could get through this.

"Stick to things?" She shot a glance at the boy spread out on the stretcher, then at Tony.

"A spider bit him. He's manifested some... some spider-like characteristics since."

"He's the Spider-Man?"

"Yes." He swallowed hard. "Nobody knows, Helen. Nobody can know." He had promised to keep this to himself and now he was telling people left and right, but what else was he supposed to do?

"I understand." She grabbed Tony by the arm and stopped him from following the stretcher any further, forced him to let go of Peter's hand. "You can't come in there."

Tony shook his head, eyes on the stretcher until the doors closed in front of him. "I have to. I... I promised him I'd stay with him. That he'd be safe. I have to—"

"And he is safe with us. You kept your promise. You're here. We'll do everything for him that we can, Tony." She pulled on his arm so he would turn towards her. "He's in the best hands, you know that. You need to let us work."

Tony shook his head. "I can... I can help. I... I know him... more than anyone. I can—"

"That's exactly why you need to stay out that room. We'll figure out what they injected him with, we'll treat his wounds. Check for brain bleeds, the concussion. You can see him as soon as we're done. If we have any questions, if anything comes up—"

"No! It might be too late until you notice. I know him, Helen. I paid for that fucking medical wing, you can't—"

"Tony!" Natasha had followed them after all. She grabbed him now, the hold on his arm harder than Helen's had been. "You're keeping them from helping the boy. Let them work."

"I..." he turned towards the Widow, ready to fight her on this as well, but her eyes were hard on him, mind made up. He shook his head. "If he... I need to be there if he... if he..."

"They'll take care of him, Tony." Natasha's voice was not without sympathy and for some reason that made things worse. "Just let them do their job."

The light drift from the opening doors washed over him as Helen stepped into the treatment room. Tony turned back around, wanted to go after her, but Natasha's hold on him was still tight. His eyes fell onto the boy. They had taken off the blanket. Tony's throat closed as he took in the marks all across the kid's chest. Red markings, deep cuts strategically placed to cause the maximum amount of pain, crusted over with dark blood. He gasped for air, desperate to keep it together. There was almost a sense of relief as the doors closed in front of him and he didn't have to look at it any longer. Relief born out of selfishness.

"Come on, Tony." She tugged on his arm, tried to make him walk away with her. "Come with me."

His limbs were numb but his mind was still running in overdrive. This was on him. They did that to the kid, because of him.

Natasha dragged him just a few doors down the hall, hand still tight around his wrist. She closed the door behind them and pushed him onto the steel bench set up for examinations.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a gash on your head and what looks like a graze wound on your left arm. Take your shirt off."

"Er, no. You take your shirt off." He shook his head at her as she was shuffling through the different drawers, picking out different medical supplies. "If this is your strategy to distract me from—"

Natasha turned, clutching a small hand-mirror that she had pulled from one of the desks and held it up to Tony's face. There really was a large gash on his forehead. He couldn't even remember where that had come from. Had one of them struck him in the head? Now that she had mentioned it, there definitely was a low-key tingling on his upper arm as well, stretching up to his shoulder. At least one of those assholes had shot at him and more than once. He had thought that he had ducked away in time though. Tony sighed. Natasha was an expert at this. He might as well take advantage of that. He pulled up the hem of the shirt and carefully worked the fabric over his head.

He groaned, now that he was aware that he should be in pain, his body was happy to comply. "Damn, maybe you should have just cut it aw- What?"

Natasha stared at him, lips pressed tightly together. "What the hell is that?"

She pointed the mirror she was still holding at his chest and Tony looked down. There was a single bullet lodged in the bulletproof vest he was wearing underneath his clothes.

"Are you fucking kidding me? When did you get shot?" She walked around him, looking for more injuries on him.

"I... I don't really remember. I guess... I guess maybe when I first came down to the corridor or... or I mean the one guy shot at me when I tried to get to Peter but, I didn't think— I mean I ducked."

She shot him a glance, then carefully helped him to get the vest off. He winced at the pain as the fabric was pulled away. He hadn't felt any of it before, the compression of the vest had kept his nerve ends from contracting. But now that the wound was out in the open, now that he saw the bright red blotch on his chest the pain was registering. The bullet hadn't pierced the vest but left some considerable blunt force trauma and a black spot in the middle of the impact, where the heat of the bullet's impact had literally burned his skin. Tony grimaced. Sure he'd prefer not being shot at all but considering the circumstances, considering the condition the kid was in, this was nothing.

Natasha stood in front of him, frozen in her preparations, an unreadable expression on her face. Tony quickly checked, slightly freaked out that he had some other hidden deadly wound he wasn't aware of. But no, other than a few shallow cuts on his arms from the fight, his chest looked completely normal. Oh.

"Oh. Yeah." He shrugged and bit his lip at the sting of the movement. Helen and the cradle had done quite the impressive renovation on his chest. "I guess that's new."

Natasha didn't say anything, just sat down on a stool in front of Tony and started to clean the gash on his forehead. She had moved on from his head to his arm when she spoke up again.

"Helen did that?"

He didn't have to ask. It was clear what she was referring to. He gave a short nod.

"That's quite an invasive procedure."

"Are you asking if I had Helen do cosmetic surgery on my scars?" Tony huffed dryly. "It's window dressing if you factor in how she had to completely remodel my sternum."

Natasha's hands froze for a moment, then dabbed along the wound on his arm.

"I heard from Clint."

His eyes shot up at her. "They done already?"

"No... no. Should be very soon though." Her face was drawn in concentration, eyes still on the graze on his arm as she taped a dressing soaked in iodine ointment onto his arm. "This shouldn't need stitches. Change it every day, air it out, make sure you keep it clean.

"Nat? What did Barton want?"

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled out her phone. "They cleaned out that hide hole. Quickly looked through things before they'll put a match to anything that could be traced back to us. Clint looked through some of the recent files on the hard drives they found."

She looked up at Tony at last and pressed her phone into his hand. Seemed like Barton had sent her some photos of said files.

"They ran the kid's blood. That layout, I know that system. It's what they use in the larger labs that the government works with. We did suspect that Sallic had ties to people in the force or the military. He's been too efficient not to."

Tony's blood froze as he zoomed in on the document.

Ran analysis. DNA Mutation confirmed.

He took a deep breath. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter that they knew. They were dead. Except for whoever had run the sample but unless they could tie it to Peter... His pulse was racing as he was searching for any mention of the kid's name.

"That's not... Tony, that's not all." She reached for the screen, swiped a couple of times to the right. "They had a tunnel open on one of the laptops, connected to servers of a few of the major US police departments. They ran the boy's prints a well."

She pointed at a single line on the document that Barton had highlighted on the photo he had sent.

Sample match: Aiden Elliot Stark

Tony blinked at the line a couple of times, but no matter how often he tried to clear his vision, the words on the picture stayed the same. It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't.

"That... they must have faked this. It's... it's impossible." His voice was weak but there was no point in even pretending that this didn't cut him down to his very core. "Photoshopped or... or they cheated the system to get to me, something—"

"Tony, just breathe, alright." Her hands were on both his lower arms now, like she was trying to hold him in place. He wasn't going anywhere though. He couldn't even feel his legs. "This is... we can find out if this is true. We can check it out."

He shook his head. "It's impossible. Peter... Peter is older than Aiden. He has a family, parents, it's... it's impossible."

"Maybe it's time to look into that family of his then."

This was ridiculous. It was such an obvious attempt by these assholes to get more out of Tony for this whole kidnapping routine. Anything else would just be so unlikely. The chance that his son would—

Tony shook the thought from his head. "The... the parents died some time ago." There was a sudden wave of nausea that rolled through him.

Her eyebrows shot up. "That's convenient."

"He lives with his aunt." Tony took a deep breath. There was no way. "She knows he works for me. She'd never let him come and work for me, ever, if she knew that—"

"You do have Aiden's DNA on record, don't you? His prints? Didn't you hacked all that from the LAPD?"

He gave her a side-eye glance. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Does it matter? Just test it. Run the DNA and then you'll know."

"I can't just..." His breathing hitched. It was just a ploy. Just a trick. Impossible to be true. He knew that, but he couldn't help that spark of hope ignite in him. Rationally there was no way for Peter to be Aiden but hope and pain didn't do rational. He wished that they hadn't gotten rid of these assholes already. He wanted to strangle them for playing with his loss like that. For opening up these shallow wounds. For putting him in a position where he would have to test his intern's DNA just so he could confirm the painful certainty that his son was lost to him.

"Fine." He didn't look at her, just got up from his spot on the examination table, his legs shaking underneath him. "Fine. I'll check it out."


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(author's note: I just had this sitting ready to go and I'm terrible with patience so I decided to just post it ;) Don't get used to the fast pace though! ;D )