Back at the airport. Peter stared through the tinted window of the car, up to the awaiting jet. The one taking him across the Atlantic Ocean to Europe. For an indefinite amount of time.

Tony pulled him aside a few days ago, revealing a "spontaneous" trip to Europe. The first destination was Berlin, Germany. The county to be honored as being Peter's first stamp in his brand-new passport. The passport Tony expediated for this trip.

Most college-age adults would be ecstatic to have an all-expense paid trip to Europe. Not Peter. His enthusiasm for the oversea trip was nonexistent. After overhearing Tony's conversation with Dr. Richards, he was well aware of the purpose of the trip. In eight hours, Peter would be escorted to a chamber hall, paraded and introduced to the Others. Whoever they are. It remained a mystery to Peter. Tony didn't share the details of the trip. He handed Peter the new passport and told him his first stamp would be Berlin. That was it.

He tried to back out of the trip, but Tony never heard any of his excuses. He laughed and said Peter had nothing to worry. Everything was handled, which heightened Peter's anxiety to another level.

Everyone got out of the vehicle. Happy instructed airport personnel where to load the luggage while Tony and Harley stood around, talking. Harley's "amends" worked well enough for Tony to invite him to join them on the trip. Harley was happy, speaking animatedly with Tony about some project he was designing.

The car's rear bounced. The personnel finished unloading the luggage and closed the trunk. Final signal. No more delaying the inevitable.

Peter stepped out. Above, the sky was painted in magenta colors by the setting sun, taking the warmth with it. The biting cold stung his face, his eyeballs feeling like icicles. He wanted to retreat into the car for warmth when Tony waved at him to join. The man looked impeccable. Suit, glasses and styled hair were all on point, camera ready. Ready to charm the world with a smirk and a wink.

"I got a surprise for you," Tony announced, slugging an arm over Peter's shoulders, leading him to the stairs of the plane. "Don't act so scared. It's a good surprise."

Peter eyed the arm in knitted annoyance. "I stopped believing in good surprises."

His stubbornness only amused Tony. "Trust me, it's a good one," he averred, a spark of secrecy in his eyes. "How about you go on ahead? Gotta talk to Harley for a moment."

He clapped a hand on his shoulder, and then gently pressed Peter forward to the jet. Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, Peter trudged up the steps with his carry-on slugged over his shoulder. The private jet looked exactly like the one they took to DC. Same indulgent interior with reclining leather seats, tables, carpeted aisle, and professionally dressed flight attendants there to greet him with cheery smiles and refreshments. Peter ducked his head, turning immediately to a seat where he hoped to curl up and ignore everyone joining them.

He dropped his carry-on on the seat, removing his jacket to put it away when his eyes caught movement on the opposite end of the airplane. Another flight attendant walking over to join their colleagues, Peter assumed. He shuffled to make room for them to maneuver around him, his knees pressing into the seat's cushion.

"Sorry," he mumbled an apology, but the attendant didn't move around him.

Peter shifted his feet, sliding them to squeeze himself into the seating area to allow the person to pass. Again, they didn't move.

"I'm sorry," Peter repeated, turning to look at them. "Is there something you—"

It wasn't possible. No, no, no… it was a figment of his imagination. It couldn't be true. This wasn't real. Wasn't… no way. Just no way.

There was no way Ned Leeds stood a few feet away from him. His friend for a decade was right there, dressed in casual attire with a basic tee and blue Hawaiian shirt. A smile drew up his friend's cheeks, eyes beaming with happiness and excitement.

"Hey—"

Ned was cut off by Peter's crashing into him. Coat, flight attendants, plane—all forgotten! He embraced his old friend in a hug, hands clutching the back of his friend's Hawaiian shirt. The fabric rubbed against his skin uncomfortably, but Peter didn't care. It was real. Arms went around Peter too, encompassing him in the familiar warmth of friendship. A smile stretched his face, cheeks brightening from sheer happiness.

Ned Leeds was here.

They shared a good squeeze before separating. Peter, still overwhelmed the Ned's surprise appearance, took in his friend one more time, checking that it wasn't a hallucination. It looked like Ned. Black hair, parted in the middle like normal, and dark eyes round with absurdity at their surroundings.

"Dude!" Ned wowed, sounding very much like his friend. "This plane is crazy. I mean, do you see this massive TV here?"

Peter didn't care about any of that. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

Now that he confirmed it was Ned Leeds, the follow-up question was how Ned got here. On Stark's private jet.

Ned tried to reply but was hijacked by someone else.

"I invited him."


Harley stayed outside, nervous, waiting a good distance away as Tony led Parker to the plane. He didn't know whether to follow them, hesitant in deciding. The indecision led to waiting awkwardly for someone to direct him, but there was no one around to give him instructions. They left him, forgotten, on the tarmac.

The invitation to join the trip came as a surprise to Harley. After the whole debacle in DC, he worried he lost Tony's favor for good. Happy's lecture didn't help ease his anxieties. Nor did his talk with Parker. Nights became restless. Mornings unbearable. And the long, silent communication between him and Tony became the resounding sentence for his mistake. But then he got a call. The voice told him to pack for a two-week trip to Europe. Everything righted itself. He hoped.

The hope fluttered out of him, watching Tony and Parker walk away. Happy was off bossing the airline workers on getting the luggage onto the plane. And Harley stood helplessly and alone.

But then, to his great reassurance, Tony broke away from Parker. The boy trudged up the stairs, feet stomping on each step like a petulant child, before disappearing onto the plane. Meanwhile, Tony strode across the tarmac, heading right to Harley. The smile on Tony's face shifted to a serious mien.

Tony stopped directly in front of Harley. "People are saying I'm making a mistake with you," he said. "Prove them wrong, won't you?"

Harley enthusiastically nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, not a problem."

An eyebrow cocked. "You sure?"

"Always happy to prove anyone wrong," Harley returned with a cheeky grin.

Tony offered his own smile in response, but Harley noticed the belief never reached his eyes. Fair enough for Tony to hold lingering doubts after the fiasco in DC. Happy's lecture and Tony's avoidance demonstrated the mountainous climb Harley needed to face to win back their approval. He was ready to make amends.

"Good," Tony glanced back to the plane. "I think that's plenty of time."

A quizzical expression overtook Harley as looked between the plane and Tony. "Plenty of time for what?"

Tony said nothing, stepping away to go onto the plane. Harley trailed after him, curious to know the mystery. They reached the top, but Tony stopped right inside the door to the plane, keeping Harley out. He shuffled closer, peaking over the man's shoulder for the reason of the holdup.

His brain stuttered. A quietness fell over him as everything hit pause. Switching gears, he tried to comprehend what his eyes beheld. Slowly, his heart plummeted when he truly reconciled with the familiar heavy-set, Asian ethnicity boy wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

What the fuck was Ned Leeds doing here?

"I invited him."

Harley whipped his head up, startled into thinking Tony heard his thought. But, Tony's eyes weren't on him. They were focused on Parker and Leeds. Parker, however, appeared ill. The boy's face turned ashen, eyes widening, and mouth pressed into a distressed, thin line. With swift feet, Peter positioned himself in front of Ned, shielding the other boy as if Tony was a predator. Stalking them. Hunting them.

Tony kept up a smile, unbothered by Parker's offensive stance. "You wanted that normal college-life experience, and I remember you saying something about backpacking across Europe," he expounded to Parker, who kept getting tenser. "And what's more fun than backpacking with your best friend?

"So, I invited Mr. Leeds to join us on this trip. You two can go off globe-trotting for two weeks," Tony continued, gesturing to Ned. "And before you argue about school, Ned's professors were understandable and provided extensions on any of his coursework, so he won't get behind. It all works out."

Tony walked down the aisle toward the two boys. Harley shuffled in, standing by the door in the middle of the aisle, blocking the cockpit. He watched Peter lift his arm out, creating a berth between them and Tony. It was unnecessary though as Tony reached across and grasped Ned's hand, shaking it diligently.

"Good to finally meet the famous Ned Leeds," Tony said. "You can call me Tony, by the way."

Ned awkwardly side-glanced at Parker for direction, but Parker only intensified his vigilant gaze. "Um… Hi. Hi, erm, Tony."

"Peter here talks about you all the time," Tony conversed like the boy was an equal rather than a college kid living off coffee and cheap ramen. "Boasts that you're a master computer programmer. That's your specialty at Columbia, correct?"

"Um, yes, sir."

"And you like it?"

Ned shot Parker an unsure glance. "Um…"

"Not trying to put you on the spot here," Tony apologized for his rapid questioning. "I'm curious as to why a young man of your talents would waste his potential at Columbia. What? MIT wasn't good enough?"

"More like MIT didn't think I was good enough."

Tony scoffed dismissively. "That admin is a bunch of pretentious douches," he chastised his alma mater. "Listen, if you're serious about this computer programming, I'll set the admin straight. I have a few connections. Easily make a transfer. MIT has the best professors for computer science. You'd thrive there! Go on to do great things. And—" He nudged his head to Parker. "—you two can be classmates again."

Ned fumbled for a response, sputtering gibberish. Shock overrode every sense, making Ned speechless. Tiny specks of spit dribbled from his lower lip. Panic petrifying his eyes, unable to blink or think, by the look of it. A generous gift. Surprising, considering Ned was not anyone of grand importance, but still generous.

Naturally, Parker intercepted on his friend's behalf.

"There's nothing wrong with Columbia," Parker stated, shifting his shoulder to get Tony's hand off him. "It's a great school. And Ned likes it there."

Tony half-heartily shrugged, unaffected by the rejection. "Well, if that's the case, I won't pester you then," he said to Ned. "Columbia is a fine school… for the fine arts."

Parker's brows slanted severely, deep crevices embedding into his forehead, as he glared at Tony.

Tony didn't look at Parker, focusing on Ned. "Well, if you are interested in MIT or bored at Columbia, let me know. I am happy to pull some strings. It's no skin off my back."

"Err…" Ned nervously glanced between Parker and Tony. "Thanks, I'll, um, think about it."

"Smart man," Tony remarked, and Parker's face soured even more. "All right, we're hogging up the aisle. Why don't you kids find your seats? We're going to take off soon."

Tony left the boys, coming back to where Harley stood. Behind him, Parker ushered Ned all the way to the end of the plane, at the last row of seats. Tony sashayed past Harley, leaning out to the open door.

"Happy!" Tony roared over the running engine sounds. "What's weighing you down? C'mon! Hurry up!" He turned away from the open door and grabbed a random backpack off a seat, handing it to Harley. "Pass this to Peter, would you? He left it up here."

Harley carried the backpack down the aisle. All the way to the two whispering boys, who immediately noticed his presence. They both went silent. Parker questionably stared at him, while Ned, his one-time colleague, shot him the dirtiest look ever made. It was unnerving to see considering Ned's affable personality.

Harley passed the backpack to Parker. "You left this up front."

Parker snatched it from him. "Erm, thanks," he grumbled and shoved it down between his legs. "Is that all?"

Harley shrugged, not sure what he was supposed to do. Did he need to sit with Parker and Ned? Engage in conversations? Do anything other than stand awkwardly in the aisle as the two boys frowned at him.

He was rescued when Tony whistled, gesturing for him to return to the front of the plane with the adults. Relieved, Harley hurried back as Happy joined them, sweaty and huffing. He carried three bags in his hands, hoisting them over the threshold.

Happy, face red and stressed, glowered at Tony. "Next time, you carry your bags."

"But then what would you do? Don't want you out of the job," Tony teased, relieving Happy of one bag. "I'll have the ladies start making you a fresh cup of tea. The same one your favorite character drinks."

Happy grunted at Tony's jest and stored the bags away in the little cupboard. Tony kept his bag, bringing it with him as he took a seat. Happy sat across the aisle, pleased to have his own space for his tired legs. Harley continued standing, wondering if it was okay for him to sit with Tony and Happy.

His awkwardness became apparent because Tony's eyes flickered up, brows scrunched questionably. "Why are you standing around? Sit."

Harley dropped into the seat opposite of Tony, sliding his carry-on underneath with a swipe of his foot. It was nice. Comfortable, the cushion forming perfectly around his body that he sunk into the furnishings. The flight attendants closed the door and gave a safety spiel. Then, the pilots made an announcement, explaining the flight plan and weather conditions. That was new.

"Aren't your planes auto-piloted?" Harley enquired to Tony.

"Yes."

"Then why—"

"To help Peter's anxieties about flying," Tony answered, sifting through his messages. He stopped, frowning. "Oh boy. Pepper is not happy."

"Told you to call her first," Happy muttered from his seat.

"She would have said no."

"Exactly."

Tony closed his phone as the plane took off, deciding best to ignore whatever message Pepper sent. He checked the rear of the plane, where Parker and Ned were seated. "He looks happy."

Harley turned around to look at the boys. It was hard to see their faces, bent low and close so that no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. Almost like two middle-school girls, gossiping about someone in this room. Probably were.

Happy tilted in his seat for a quick glimpse. "Yeah."

"You agree I made the right call then?"

"I said he looks happy. Not that I agree with you."

"You think I shouldn't have invited Ned?" queried Tony.

Happy sagged with resignation. "I'm not against Peter having a friend," he explained. "I'm disagreeing with having them here in the first place."

"I couldn't leave him behind."

Happy looked unconvinced. "You could've. You didn't want to," he said, shaking his head in discontent. "You're throwing him into the deep end too soon."

"The deep end? Ha! More like the kiddie pool," Tony jested in return, "and it's just a toe."

"It's too much too soon, Tony. He's not ready."

Tony expelled a tired breath. "You're never ready for what you have to do," he said. "You just do it. That makes you ready."

Harley sat perplexed. He darted looks between Tony and Happy, waiting for an explanation, but receiving none. A hundred questions filled his head, pressing against his skull. What was Tony planning? How was Parker involved? Why was Happy disapproving? He originally thought Parker was tagging along because Tony didn't trust him alone. Hearing the two men debate about Parker's presence made him question the purpose of the trip.

Confused, Harley leaned over, close to Tony, and asked, "For what?"

"Hm?" Tony looked at Harley, momentarily surprised by his question. "What?"

"What are we getting ready for?" Harley repeated. "What's happening in Berlin?"

Tony registered what Harley was asking. "Oh, nothing is happening," he assured, dismissing the question with a flick of his wrist. "Don't worry about it."

Harley suspiciously scrutinized the adults. He didn't enjoy being out of the loop. "You two were literally talking about Parker being ready for something. Shouldn't I – being his manager – know about this? Help the kid… I don't know? Prep?"

A loose chuckle escaped from Tony. "Happy is making it sound like it's a bigger deal than what it is," he said. "Just boring political matters that would put anyone in a deep slumber. It's nothing to worry about."

Another dismissal. Harley studied Tony a little longer, searching for a hidden meaning behind the words. But, he got distracted by the flight attendant taking refreshment orders. Harley ordered his usual—coffee and a bagel. Tony got his coffee as well, adding that Happy would like 'the finest tea fit for a Queen', much to the man's displeasure. Nonetheless, Happy ordered the tea anyway.

"Oh, and one more thing," Tony stopped the flight attendant. "When you get to the kids, no caffeine for them. Thanks."

The flight attendant disappeared to get their orders ready. Happy stared incredulously at Tony for his weird request, to which Tony rolled his eyes.

"The kid needs to sleep," Tony responded to Happy's stare. "If he drinks anything with caffeine, he won't. Can't have him jet lag for tomorrow."

Happy huffed incredulously but let the argument finish. Wasn't worth his time and energy to worry over Parker's drinks. They got their drinks, relaxing now that the plane was cruising through the skies. In a few hours, they would land in Europe. And there, Harley would learn the true purpose of the spontaneous trip to Europe.


"Dude!" Peter loudly whispered as to not be overheard as he strapped the belt tightly across his lap. He and Ned holed themselves up in the back of the plane, away from everyone else, but it was always best to take precautions in enemy territory. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

Ned, who sat next to the window, looked back, his eyes mirroring Peter's own shocked expression. "I was told I'm going to Europe with you."

"What?"

"I know. It's crazy," Ned agreed, adjusting his seatbelt to turn properly. "One minute, I'm in my dorm, doing homework, and then this guy comes in and is like…'you're going to Europe'… and suddenly, I have a passport, a packed bag and sitting in a fancy car and now, I'm sitting in a private jet—"

Peter waved his hand in front to get his friend to stop blabbering. "Ned—Ned! I mean, why did you agree?" he asked. He thought Ned would know not to accept anything Tony offered. Nothing was ever worth the payment. "You should have said no!"

Ned brows furrowed incredulously. "Umm… you want me to say no? To Tony Stark?"

Peter heard it back to him, and realized it was a silly thing to say to his friend. No one said no to Tony Stark. If they did, it didn't matter. Tony always had his way.

"Never mind," Peter slumped against his seat, arms crossed. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"Dude! Are you kidding me?" exclaimed Ned, eyes alight. "Even if I had an option to turn it down, I wouldn't. Not if it means I get to hang-out with you."

"You do realize you're a hostage, right? You're here to make sure I behave myself," Peter clarified to his friend, wondering if his innocent, faithful friend realized the dire predicament he stepped into all in the name of friendship. "This is a hostage situation."

"I figured as much, but I'm not worried. I have you."

Peter envied Ned's confidence in him. To be resolute and trusting was a luxury Peter wasn't afforded. And knowing Ned dumped all of his in Peter's basket didn't make the situation better. It was because of Peter that Ned got drawn into the line of fire. Roped into becoming a puppet for Tony to use against him. Ned would be free and safe if Peter stayed away, but he was selfish. And lonely.

He released a long and worn breath. "I wish he left my friends alone."

"Yeah… typical baddie move though, right? Going after the friends and family of the hero," Ned rambled as he checked out the many buttons on his armrest. "And since he already took out your family, gotta move onto the friends."

Peter's gaze narrowed. "That's… not helpful."

"Sorry—hey!" Ned snapped his head back to Peter, all the gizmos and gadgets forgotten. "Why did I have to hear from MJ you have a phone? Why didn't you just call me to ask for the—"

Peter clamped a hand over his friend's mouth. He watched Ned's eyes grow wide in surprise, silenced by both the hand and shock. Peter turned, craning his neck back to look at the adults up the aisle. Thankfully, none of them were paying attention to them. They were busy talking with one another.

Slowly, Peter released his hand and lowered his head, encouraging Ned to do so as well. "Don't bring up whatever MJ told you," he warned. "At least, not here. Later. Somewhere safer."

Ned nodded, understanding the situation.

"Okay…" Peter sat up, returning to normal voice. "About the call, it wasn't me. It was all Tony. He called and left a message for MJ."

Ned was taken aback. "Why would he do that?"

Peter shrugged. "Not sure. Probably some kind of mind game that I haven't figured out yet," he said, as it was the best answer for an unanswerable question. "Anyway, I don't have a phone and if I did, I wouldn't call you guys. Too much danger."

"Dude," Ned groaned, rolling his head in exasperation. "Seriously, you need to stop doing that."

"Doing what? Protecting you guys from a vile human being?"

"No, isolating yourself from us," Ned corrected, playfully bumping into Peter's side. "We're your friends. Through the good and the bad times. Hell—people need friends more during the bad times than the good times."

"Except this could kill you," Peter was confused why Ned blatantly refused to see the dangers surrounding Peter. "This isn't like Flash or… or another bully! This is Tony Stark. The man who—"

"May I take your drink orders?"

Both Peter and Ned jolted, startled at the sudden appearance of a flight attendant. They had completely forgotten they were on a private jet, heading to Europe, instead of the tunnels or in Ned's dorm room.

The flight attendant waited patiently for them to respond to her question. Peter recovered first. "Oh… um, I'll actually have some coffee, please?"

The flight attendant somberly frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr. Stark specifically requested that neither of you two be served with anything that has caffeine. I'm sorry," she apologized. "I could offer you a different beverage? We have orange juice, apple, grapefruit, lemonade—"

"Lemonade," both Peter and Ned answered at the same time.

The flight attendant beamed. "Two lemonades coming up!" and she disappeared in the back to start fixing the drinks.

Peter relaxed again, letting the added stress flow out of him as he dropped his head against his headrest. Ned, however, pouted. "Dude—no coffee? I mean… I practically live off coffee!" he said, aghast by the mere cruelty of no coffee. "Wait… does this mean no coffee whatsoever during the trip?"

"Don't know. Maybe?" answered Peter with a shrug. Being denied coffee was the least of their concerns. "This is what I mean about being a hostage earlier. You don't get choices."

Ned continued to be hopeful. "Maybe it's just for the plane ride. I mean… it's probably to avoid jetlag or something?"

"Or he's being a jerk?"

"Probably that," Ned disheartened, craning his neck over onto Peter's side to glimpse up the aisle. "Speaking of, why is Harley here?"

Peter raised his brows, flickering his eyes up the aisle to the back of Harley's head. "You don't know? He's on Tony's payroll," he said, returning to Ned. "He was always on Tony's side."

"No, I knew that. We all figured that out the morning after you got captured. He never showed up to the rendezvous the next day. Pretty much the dead giveaway who the rat was," Ned said in a huff, glaring back at Harley's head. "I mean why is he here?"

"He's my professional babysitter."

"Him?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, and not a very good one either," he said. "He hates me."

"Can't say I like him much either," Ned eyed mistrustingly in Harley's direction. "You know… I really thought he was a friend. Like… I actually liked talking to him and he was probably just laughing all about it. Probably saying how much of an idiot I was."

"You're not an idiot," Peter reassured his friend. No one who graduated from Midtown and enrolled at Columbia University would ever be labelled as an 'idiot'. "You're one of the smartest people in the world."

Ned cheeks pinked, bashful. "Thanks, but you're saying that because you're my friend and friends say things like that."

"I say it because it's true," Peter promised, hating the doubt shadowing his friend's expression. "You're my go-to guy whenever I have a problem."

His friend perked up, beaming. "Your Guy-in-the-Chair!"

Peter laughed, remembering that was what Ned dubbed himself when he first revealed himself as Spider-man. "Exactly. And no Guy-in-the-Chair was ever an idiot. They were always smarter than the actual hero."

"Like Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne."

"And Ned Leeds and Peter Parker."

Ned shot his friend a reproving look. "I'm not smarter than you," he opposed. "You were the best in our entire school! Everyone knew you were the smartest person. Probably could have skipped grades too if your aunt and uncle have let you."

"You're missing the point," Peter said, dismissing his friend's remark. "I'm not smart because if I was then I wouldn't be in this predicament. I would have known not to have ever trusted Tony."

The past three years were spent thinking of everything that went wrong. Peter followed the timeline, marking every point that revealed Tony's true colors and every single mark, Peter ignored it. He dissected every memory he had, of those moments that could have changed the course of history. He imagined all those moments he had the chance to turn the fates in another direction. And in the dark, Peter berated his past self for his naivety. He cost a lot of lives, bestowing pain across the world. Across the universe.

If he only held onto his distrust and suspicions from the beginning, then none of it would have happened. None of it.

"Hey—you're doing it again," Ned piped up.

"Doing what?" Peter questioned as he was doing nothing other than sitting.

"Blaming yourself for something that you didn't do," Ned's mouth grew tight and hard. "You didn't know! You were a kid, who trusted a well-respected adult. How were you to know that he was an evil genius?"

"Because I did know!" snapped Peter with a sharp, heated breath. "I knew at the very beginning that it was wrong! And I… I ignored it. I forgot all about it because he started to be nice."

"It's Stockholm Syndrome," Ned quietly offered as a blame. "It's not your fault for trusting him."

"Sure it is," Peter scoffed in derisive tone that made Ned pull back. "I tolerated what was happening, and it taught all of them how to treat me. How to use me. It is my own fault that I didn't fight harder. My fault that I let the gauntlet go. My fault that… that… that they all died."

Before Ned could contradict him, the flight attendant reappeared with two, fancy drinks, served with a lemon wedge and mint garnish. "Your drinks," she announced, clicking a side button on the chair. Two tables pulled out, hoovering over their laps.

She rested the lemonades on their respective tabletops. "Is there anything else? We have some snacks and hot towels—"

"We're good, thank you," Peter replied in a quick, clipped tone, wanting the attendant to go away.

The flight attendant had a funny face when she glanced at the two of them, but eventually strolled away to leave the boys alone. Probably to report back to Tony that they were acting weird.

Peter reached for his drink, taking it in his hands. The chill from the glass encompassed his palm, causing a little shiver to run up the nerves of his fingers. The dewy touch of the glass collided with the heat of his skin, condensation dripping underneath his skin. He swirled the straw around, lowering his mouth to take a sip, his nose already teased with fresh fruitiness.

Then, a soft exhale breathed over his rage.

"It's not your fault."

Peter paused. He didn't take a sip, nor did he look over to Ned. His teeth ground together, doing his best to control the bottled emotions from spurting out. He hated that sentence. No matter how many times someone said it to him, it didn't change the truth.

He heard Ned suck in a deep, prepared breath. "It's his fault. He lied to you and everyone else," he insisted, voice clement. "If anyone should be ashamed, it's him. Not you. He caused all the bad things. And he would have done it with or without you.

"So, please, stop doing this to yourself," Ned besought, desperate to spare his friend from the pain. "I know you struggle with believing it because that's who you are, but you gotta try. Dude… you worry me when you're like this. It's really unhealthy. Taking responsibility for the faults of others. You did it when Ben died and you're doing it again right now. It's not a good headspace for you. You're destroying yourself."

Peter tried to school his features, hiding the foggy sadness overcoming his eyes. He remembered the dark days after Ben's death. Remembered the therapist talking to Aunt May, concerned that his new attitude was destructive to his soul. He remembered thinking it didn't matter. His soul was tainted. Wounded. The death of his uncle revealed that things may not be his fault, but were his responsibility.

"'With great power comes great responsibility,'" Peter softly recited, surprising Ned. He never shared his uncle's words. Not to his friends. Not even to Aunt May. "My uncle said that to me once. It was about politics at the time, but… when I got my powers, and after he died, I remembered it. It's like tattooed on my brain now. Can't erase it. Can't unhear it."

Peter lifted his head up to Ned, who looked depleted and sorrowful. "I may not have pulled the trigger or snapped my fingers, but I had the power to stop both incidents. I had the responsibility to stop it and I failed. Don't you understand? This isn't about blaming or fault. It's about responsibility, and sometimes we don't like it, but what choice do we have? What choice do I have? I'm the only person who truly knows what happened on Titan. If the world knew that… if the world knew everything I knew, how many people would come up to me and ask 'why didn't you stop him?' or 'why did you drop the gauntlet?' All these 'whys' and none of them ever asking 'what' or 'how'. Because they don't care that you believed him. Or that you dropped the gauntlet because you were too busy celebrating that you didn't get squashed to death.

"No, man… no, they only care about why you didn't do enough to prevent a tragedy. Why you didn't stop evil from coming into power, stealing millions of lives away from people," Peter vehemently ranted in a breathless voice, cheeks a velvet crimson. He huffed out a stream of hot air. "So, yeah, it may not have been my fault, but it sure as hell is my responsibility."

Ned fell quiet. Stock-still. It was a lot to dump on his friend, especially now when they were trapped in the air. Privacy was limited, or nonexistent may be the better term. It was wrong for Peter to heave all his stress and burdens onto his best friend. Ned never experienced those hardships. Life challenges for him were SATs, bullies, and, for a good portion of a year, the (fake) death of his friend. Not the weight of a never-ending, unresolved guilt.

Peter sat ashamed, the quietness following his outburst reflected the deeper self that Peter struggled to accept. He was a terrible friend. Ned, the always supportive friend, didn't deserve the backlash Peter fired upon him. He already heard May's and MJ's voices in his head, acting reproachful and demanding he apologized.

And he was ready to do so when a gentle pressure squeezed his shoulder.

Peter turned, meeting Ned's compassionate eyes.

"Thank you," Ned said, appreciative.

Peter was confused. "For what?"

"For being open," Ned answered, so gentle and comforting that it made Peter feel more ashamed for the outburst. "You've closed yourself up since… well, since this whole thing started." He dropped his head to the side, trouble shading his features. "You know, these past few years MJ and I have been worried about you. We dreaded going into the tunnels and finding your corpse. We tried our best to reach out to you, to get you to… I don't know what exactly, but you made it hard to reach you. It was like, you were a ghost rather than a living person.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're telling me. And, I'm sorry that you felt like all of this was your responsibility to face alone," Ned said again, leaning over his seat to look directly into Peter's face. "But, you're not alone in it. Okay? You've got me. And MJ. We're team Peter Parker! Or, well, we can workshop the team-name thing, but the point is that we're in this together. This responsibility you're talking about… it's our responsibility. Not just yours anymore."

"Ned—"

Ned shook his head. "Nope. No discussion," he stated. "You're my brother, Peter, and we're going to do whatever it takes to fix this world."

Peter took in his friend. His incredible and brave friend. Ned weathered the storms Peter found himself thrusted into, drowning under the crashing waves. Ned was there to rescue him, pulling him out, having his back and holding him tight to ensure he would not go under again. There was nothing that deterred Ned from being Peter's friend. It was truly a comfort to know he wasn't alone.

Something wet hit his cheek, trailing down to his chin. Another drop hit his cheekbone. And then another, trickling down his face. His eyes raw and numb, stared at his best friend.

He smiled through the happy sadness, sniffling away the snot. Mirroring Ned, Peter reached out and took Ned's shoulder. "You're a good friend."

"We both are," Ned returned, and their hands stayed on each other for a moment longer, both appreciating their existence.

Then Ned's hand slipped from Peter's shoulder, switching it out for his lemonade. He took a large gulp and his eyes bulged with pure delight.

"Holy—that's the best lemonade I ever had!" he delighted, taking another full gulp. "Dude—I feel like a rockstar!"

Peter snorted a chuckle as he wiped his face clean. "Rockstars don't drink lemonades."

"Maybe they do? We don't know."

Peter smiled again, spirits lifting and feeling lighter. "Hey Ned?"

"Yeah?" Ned said, taking a break from his drink.

"Thank you."

Ned raised his lemonade glass up between them. Peter picked his up and, synchronized, they cheered their glasses together and drank.

The boys relished the fruitiness taste. Ned drank his quickly, a satisfying sigh escaping his lips. He touched a button, and his seat adjusted to his comfort, letting him relax further into his seat.

"This is so cool," Ned said to Peter, putting his nearly depleted glass on the table. "Like, I've been on airplanes. Economy. But I don't even think First Class is this fancy!"

Peter never been on any plane except for Stark's personalized jets. He wouldn't know what any planes looked like. Ned rattled off other amenities that the flight attendants told him about prior to their arrival. His voice screeched a little when he talked about the flat screen television being hooked up to a gaming system, telling Peter they could finish off their Beast Slayers quest.

"C'mon! Let's play Beast Slayers," Ned said, nudging his friend in excitement. "I read online of a possible hidden chamber on level fifteen."

Peter set aside his glass. "I think I'm just going to nap."

Ned gaped. "Nap? It's a six-hour plane ride! You can't nap through it all. And, I mean, the TV! The games! I mean…"

"If we play, it's only going to make Tony feel like he's forgiven."

"No! No… no, it's not. It doesn't mean anything like that," Ned tried to argue. "It means we are two young adults bored to death because there's nothing else to do on a plane other than video games. We're not playing because we're thankful. We're extremely bored."

"Didn't you bring a laptop? Can't you play it on that?"

Ned looked at his carry-on, where Peter knew his friend packed his laptop. Ned never went anywhere without it. "But it's better on the TV!" he appealed, hoping that his argument was valid another to change Peter's mind. "C'mon, dude! Don't let Tony Stark ruin every fun thing."

Peter thoughtfully hummed. "All right, fine," he decided. "Because you're one of the best people on this planet, we'll play on the big screen."

Ned pumped his arm, already unfastening his seatbelt. "Great! This is going to be so much fun. The level apparently has this potion that grants you two extra lives! Which we will need if we make it to level twenty. But, apparently the beast guarding it is challenging, although I think we have a good chance of beating it and—"

Ned rattled on as Peter, tentatively, removed himself from the safety of his seat to the couch facing the television. Ned handed him a cordless remote that came with the entertainment system. Peter had no idea there was a gaming system in the cabinet and speculated if it was an added feature since his re-capture. The television turned on, and the screen glowed to life with vivid colors and imaginary creatures. Loud and theatrical sounds boomed out of the speakers as the game started up.

The two friends were engrossed in the game, unaware Tony flashing a smug look in Happy's direction.