A/N: Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the delay. Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed!

WARNING: Rating may go up.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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When Peter awoke the next time, it was to the feeling of fingers still slowly sweeping through his curls. This time, however, the fingers were thinner and had longer nails. He kept his eyes shut as he breathed in the familiar scent of May's favorite cucumber and melon shampoo.

There was a steady beeping to his left from the vitals monitor as it tracked his heart rate.

"Did she specify what symptoms we should be watching for?"

Peter felt the hum of May's words against his cheek as she spoke and he realized he must be partially lying on her.

There was a heavy sigh before a voice responded. "She said it could be any number of things. Irritability, headaches, panic attacks– I mean, the list goes on. She only told the kid about three of the drugs they found. His tox screen came back with traces of at least twelve different drugs. Magnus had Peter doped up on so many different drugs, I'm surprised Peter was able to tell up from down."

'Twelve drugs?' Peter fought to keep his breathing slow and even, not wanting to tip off his aunt or Mr. Stark to the fact that he was awake and listening to their conversation.

"Do you think his healing ability will be able to counteract any of it?" May asked, dropping a kiss onto Peter's hairline.

Silence met May's question. Peter didn't know if Mr. Stark had made a gesture Peter couldn't see or if the man was simply taking time to choose his words.

"It's so sick," May spoke again, fingers never ceasing their stroking motion. "Sick and twisted, what that bastard did to him. Peter's just a kid! How could anyone be okay with treating a child like this?"

'I'm not a child.' A brief flutter of annoyance flitted through his body at May's words.

"The world's full of freaks," Mr. Stark responded, voice low. "Peter just happened to tangle with one 'em."

"Okay but it didn't "just happen", did it?" May responded quickly, her tone laced with a sudden sting of acrimony. Peter knew it wasn't directed at Mr. Stark as she continued talking. "You said Magnus had been following Peter for awhile. That's what you said."

'Someone's been following me? Who the hell is this Magnus person?' Peter felt the hairs on his arms stand up, unease crawling across his skin.

"FRIDAY went back through more of the videos from Peter's suit cam. Magnus's face popped up too often for it to be a coincidence. A city this size? It's not that likely you'd see the same stranger more than once."

May inhaled deeply, Peter's head rising as her chest expanded. "So what does that mean? Peter has to change his routes? Take the bus to school instead of the subway? Maybe shop at new stores? You can't ask him to stop going to Delmar's; I think we'd have a full blown meltdown on our hands." She chuckled softly, but there was a sadness hidden beneath her words.

There was the sound of rustling fabric and the squeak of plastic against the floor as Peter assumed Mr. Stark shifted positions in his chair.

"It shouldn't have to come to that. I don't want life to change for either of you two, especially not after what you've been through with this whole ordeal. I can place guys all along both of your daily routes. You wouldn't even notice them, they'd be–"

"Stark," May interrupted gently. "You and I both know that that's not going to work out. As much as it'd sooth my nerves to have constant protection for Peter, it would only cause him more stress and that's the last thing he needs right now. No protective detail."

'Protective detail? Protecting us from what? From who? Why would we need a protective detail?'

"Alright, no protective detail," Mr. Stark agreed. "The NYPD is still looking for this guy and you can bet your ass I am, too. I still don't know how he managed to get away, but I'll be damned if I let him come near Peter again."

It was then that it clicked in Peter's mind. Blame the slowness on the fact that he'd only woken up a few minutes ago, or on the fact that his brain was still recovering from being in a consistent state of conscious sedation for thirteen days.

The way they talked about Magnus: sick, twisted, apparently a stalker– the comment about Peter "tangling" with one of the world's freaks. They had to be talking about the green-haired man.

But didn't Mr. Stark just say that the NYPD was looking for Magnus? Hadn't he said that Magnus had escaped?

'Oh god.' Peter's mind was whirling as his heart began to race, the steady beeps of the monitor becoming quicker and more frequent. 'He's still out there. They didn't catch him.' This was supposed to be over. Peter was supposed to be safe. And yet, here were May and Tony talking about Peter possibly having to change his lifestyle because he was being stalked by the man who kidnapped him. 'Nononononononononono–'

His eyes squinched tighter as the air in the room seemed to sucked out. It felt as if some invisible force was crushing his chest, preventing him from fully drawing in the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"Peter?" May shifted beneath him, hand coming to rest on the side of his face. "Peter, honey, wake up; you're having a nightmare."

He wasn't having a nightmare. He was living a nightmare.

Peter's eyes flew open wide as he shot upright, startling May at the sudden motion.

She sat up too, slower than he had, and placed a gentle hand on his back, rubbing in a slow circular motion. "Breathe, sweetie," She murmured as her nephew continued to gasp for air.

"I… can't," Peter wheezed, sheer panic clawing its way up his throat as the thought of the Greenie loose on the streets reeled in his mind.

"Yes, you can," May said, voice firm but encouraging. "Remember the way I taught you? In two three four, out two three four. C'mon, Petey."

In two three four, out two three four.

Peter choked over the mouthful of air he tried to inhale too quickly, lungs beginning to ache from the deprivation.

"Slower, Peter. You can do this," May whispered, hand still rubbing over his back. "In two three four, out two three four, in two three four, out two three four," she repeated. Peter didn't know how many times he counted to four in his head before his breathing finally began to even out.

He flopped back against his pillow, left hand pinching across his eyes as a familiar sting made itself known.

"Want to tell us about that nightmare you were having?" Mr. Stark spoke up, concern lacing his words as he clicked off the tablet he had in his lap.

Peter shook his head minutely. "Wasn't a nightmare," he mumbled, lips barely moving.

"Come again?" Tony said, not quite able to make out the mutter phrase.

Peter exhaled sharply and dropped his hand from his face, eyes staring up at the blank white ceiling. "I said, it wasn't a nightmare. I wasn't asleep."

The room was silent for moment while the other two processed what he had said. May was the first to recover. "How much did you hear?"

Peter shrugged one-shouldered. "Enough to know that he got away." Peter couldn't quite bring himself to say the man's name. It humanized him in a way, and Peter knew that nothing that man did was humane. Nothing at all.

"Kid," Tony said, leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but you have to understand that he is never going to come near you again. He won't get to you."

Peter couldn't help the snort that burst out of him. "You don't know that," he said, surprisingly himself by the amount of venom in his voice.

"He got me before, used a child to help him out. What's stopping him from doing it again?" He grit his teeth as a shudder swept through his body. "Sure, maybe he doesn't know my name, but he's seen my face. He can find me so much easier now. He–"

He clamped his mouth shut abruptly as a lump the size of a rock ached in his throat. He closed his eyes, breathing shakily in through his nose as the burn of unshed tears made itself known again.

"Peter?" May's soft voice called. "Honey, look at me."

Peter rolled his head to the right and cracked open his eyes, May's form blurred through the film of tears.

"He's not going to find you, you understand me?" May said. "He's not going to find you because Stark's going to find him first. And when he does, that dirtbag is going to have me to answer to, okay?" She waggled her eyebrows playfully, a touch of a smirk on her face, but Peter knew that if she had a chance to take a whack at Magnus, she'd do it an a heartbeat.

A small smile of his own surfaced on Peter's face as he dragged a hand across his eyes to get rid of the unwanted moisture.

"Yeah, okay," Peter sniffed as his aunt reached out to ruffle his hair.

A muted buzzing noise came from somewhere beyond May. Peter peeked past her and saw Mr. Stark glance down at the glowing screen of his tablet, a look of confusion furrowing his brow.

Tony tapped at something on the screen, eyes squinting slightly at whatever he was reading/seeing. Within a few seconds, his expression switched from puzzled to horror filled alarm to revolted, blood draining from his face as he looked at whatever was on the screen.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter called, unnerved by the display of rapid expressions. "What's wrong? What happened?" He grunted softly as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position, damaged ribs protesting at the movement.

May twisted around to stare at the man in the chair, her own expression shifting into one of concern as she caught sight of Tony's face. "Stark?"

Mr. Stark looked up and clicked off the tablet simultaneously, face going blank. "May, can I talk to you outside?" He said, standing up with the tablet clutched in a tight grip.

Peter's eyes flicked rapidly between the two adults. "What's going on?" He asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. May turned back to her nephew and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Everything's fine. We'll be right back, okay? We'll stay right outside the door. Yell if you need something." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple before sliding off the bed. Peter couldn't help the uneasy feeling rolling in his stomach. What were they trying to keep secret?

Mr. Stark held the door open for May as she stepped into the hallway, quickly following behind. The door closed with a soft click. Peter craned his head to look through the small window set in the door, but May and Tony were beyond view.

He drew his right leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and resting his chin on his knee. Peter closed his eyes and diverted his full focus to his sense of hearing. If the two adults hadn't gone too far, he should still be able to hear them.

He ignored the persistent beeping of the vitals monitor and trained his ears on the voices just beyond the wall.

"What do you mean he sent pictures?" Came May's whispered voice. "Who? Magnus?"

"I already have FRIDAY running a tracer on the email to get an IP and an ISP address to–"

"Speak English, Stark. Are you saying that you know where he is?"

"Not exactly. Somehow Magnus was able to hack my tech, the Spider suit. I doubt he'd be dumb enough to send the email without first installing a VPN."

"Okay, but what does the email say? You said something about pictures?"

"Along with a letter," Mr. Stark grit out. "I don't think it something you should see. I just wanted to let you know that I'll have him by the end of the day."

"Let me see it."

"May, I don't–"

"Let. Me. See. It."

The uneasy feeling in Peter's stomach roiled as he connected the dots. All those photos of him–cut, bruised, broken, beaten, tortured– Magnus had sent them to Mr. Stark.

And he and May were looking at them right now.

"Dear Tony Stark," May's voice picked up again. "Thank you ever so much for the wonderful almost two weeks we spent with your friend. He was an extraordinary joy to work with, though I don't think he was quite as happy with our facilities as we would've liked him to be. Regardless, we had a great time together. Your friend was rather reluctant to share his name with us– something about keeping a secret identity. You know how heroes are.

"An additional thanks is due to you for supplying us with that bit of information. I heard you call his name right after you so magnificently interrupted the match. Peter. A good strong name. I believe it means 'stone' or 'rock'. As dismayed as I am that our time with Peter was cut short, I thought I'd share some of the sublime memories we made together. Please find below documentation of our sensational time together. Best regards."

"No no no no no no no no…" Peter breathed, shoving the blankets off of his legs with one hand, the other pulling off the electrodes on his chest and discarding the pulse oximeter on his finger. The machine to his left began to wail a big pitched tone, but Peter couldn't have cared less.

He needed to stop May and Mr. Stark from looking at those photographs. Images that displayed his weakness front and center. Stills of him screaming in pain, pictures of him crying as the agony became too much.

Peter slid off the bed, unsteady legs folding beneath him as he put his weight on them. He clutched at the IV pole, using it to balance himself, casted ankle twinging as he took a few shaky steps forward.

"Oh god…" May's horrified whisper sounded from the other side of the door. "Oh my god."

Dread washed over Peter in waves, sending hot and cold chills racing over his skin as he felt his heart pounded in his throat, the sound rushing in his ears. This wasn't happening. This was not happening.

His legs chose that moment to decide not to cooperate any longer, the left one giving out first and the right, unprepared to wholly support Peter's weight by itself, quickly followed suit. Peter gasped as his knees smacked into the unforgiving floor, instinctually reaching out with his hands to brace his fall, releasing the IV pole.

The catheter in his arm was forcibly yanked from his right elbow as he dropped, the tubing not long enough to reach Peter where he was knelt on the floor.

He snatched his right arm up to his chest, wrist crying out in pain from when he'd caught himself. A tiny bead of blood was bubbling up from where the IV had been ripped out. But again, Peter could not have cared less.

Just as he was about to heave himself back to his feet, the door burst open. He looked up sharply, panic-filled eyes meeting his aunt's as she caught sight of the teen on the floor. She hurried over to his side and dropped down into a crouch beside him.

"Honey, what happened?" She put a hand under Peter's chin and turned his face to hers. Peter's gut clenched as he saw the hastily wiped tear tracks on May's face, her eyes red-rimmed behind her glasses.

Peter's throat constricted at the look on her face. "May, I'm sorry," he said, voice trembling. "I am so so sorry."

May's eyebrows pinched together in bewilderment as she quickly pulled her nephew in close for a hug. "Peter, what on earth do you have to be sorry for?"

Peter dropped his head into the crook of her neck, shaking his head back and forth slightly as tears slid down his cheeks. 'Do you ever stop crying?' He berated himself, hating that he couldn't get his emotions in check.

"Oh, sweetheart," May breathed out, resting her chin on top of his head, gently rocking them back and forth. "Tony, tell me you know where he is," May said, voice going hard as she turned her head to look at the man standing in the doorway.

Peter cracked open his eyes and lifted his head to peek over May's shoulder. Mr. Stark's face was frighteningly dark, chin lowered and eyes filled with a malignity that made Peter's heart stutter.

"Yep," Mr. Stark said, eyes trained on Peter's face. "And I'm going to kill him."

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