#NOTDEAD

I bet all y'all gave up on me. Thought I'd just abandon this story, unfinished. NEVER. I'm back in the groove.

I can't thank you guys enough for all of the support you've given me in spite of my long absence.

Special thanks to SummerMistedDragon, Wolfy76398, cnocys, silverwolvesarecool, Unajet, toraneko-chan, I Am A Difference Maker, jayley, Krystal Fox, BeautifulKnight, Demi-God Ginny, usa123, bunyx, AraneltheSilvan, rightsideleft, elisiumqueen, Tori of Lorien, 10sBlueRose, BlackHawk2187 , TheMysteriousT, MugetsuPipefox, monkeybaby for your lovely reviews. You guys are my life blood!

Definitely be sure to check out: MugetsuPipefox, Tori-of-Lorien, usa123, BeautifulKnight, Krystal-Fox, jayley, toraneko-chan, Unajet, silverwolvesarecool, SummerMistedDragon. These lovely people are also writers. I've checked out their pages and a couple of their stories and, in my opinion, you ought to too! They're really quite brilliant.

Enjoy!

Peter rested his face on the door of Happy's car, staring out the window mindlessly. Happy found Peter's silence to be unusual and off-putting, although it was highly understandable. As much as he found the kid irritating, his usual, hyperactive banter would have been preferable to the pained silence, which was broken by the occasional moan when the car rounded a corner.

Happy was greatly relieved when he found out that Ned and his uncle would be staying with the kid (babysitting was definitely not how he wanted to spend his weekend) but he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't hard to see what Tony saw in Spider-Man: Peter was a good kid. It kind of broke Happy's heart to see him so bruised and battered.

Peter had spent the duration of the car ride trying to drift off, but thanks to the pain and his overactive mind, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. He just couldn't stop worrying. Had he made the right call? But what other options did he have? Peter Parker idolized Steve Rogers. What was he supposed to do? Betray him? Let him rot in prison? Give him up to the mercy of Tony Stark and the UN? At the end of the day, Peter was still just a kid—a fact which both Mr. Stark and Peter, himself seemed prone to forget at times. Peter had done what he, with his measly fifteen years of life experiences, had thought was right. So why did he feel so guilt?

"Hey, uh, Happy, the hospital's back that way," Peter commented, lifting his head as the exit flew past.

"We're not heading to that hospital," Happy responded curtly.

Peter screwed up his face and shifted a little bit. "We're not?" he asked.

"Tony Stark has other plans in mind for you," Happy responded vaguely.

Alarm bells were firing off in Peter's head. What kind of other plans did Tony have for him? Was Tony angry? Had he some how figured out that he was harboring the fugitive avenger in his living room? Was he going to yell at him? Was he going to tell aunt May? Was he going to take away the suit? Was he going to throw Peter in jail? Peter did not want to go to jail. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't do good in jail. Jail was a bad, bad place. It was cold and dark and small and made of concrete. Concrete is bad. Concrete is very, very bad. Concrete always made him feel small and trapped and cold and very, very afraid because suddenly it was dark and wet and he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he was being pinned down, and it was so heavy and help help help helphelphelphelp help help help help help help heLp heLP HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME!. Too heavy. Too heavy! SOMEBODY HELP ME! He was crushed! He was trapped! He was gonna die! He was gonna die!

"—Breathe, Peter!" Happy's voice suddenly pierced Peter's mind and the whole world came back into focus.

"Wh-what?" Peter asked, deeply confused. His chest hurt and his heart was racing. Weird. He felt like he'd been running. Why does that keep happening?

"I said breathe!" Happy snapped. He sounded irritated and angry, and that made Peter flinch, but his face was twisted in worry and concern and that made Peter feel confused and self-conscious.

"Kid, focus on what I'm saying and breathe!" Once again, Happy's voice broke through Peter's thoughts. Distracted much?

"I am breathing!" Peter snapped.

"I mean breathe slower!"

"…Oh," Peter said and lowered his head, feeling a little stupid.

"What was that?" Happy asked.

Peter shook his head and shrugged. "What do you mean?" he asked. Oh, he knew exactly what Happy wanted to know, but it was stupid and personal and really not important.

"Don't give me that kind of bull!" Happy snapped, increasing his hold on the steering wheel. "One minute you were fine, the next suddenly started freaking out and hyperventilating. It looked like some kind of panic attack,"

Peter swallowed nervously. Happy was onto him. "What? A panic attack? Ha, you gotta be kidding me, Happy. I'm Spider-Man. I don't get panic attacks," he responded confidently with an added cheeky grin.

Happy gave the little punk a hard, pointed glared. "Yeah and, lemme guess, the sky isn't blue today?"

Unfortunately, it was a clear day outside. Not a cloud in sight. So, yes, the sky was very blue today. Which, unfortunately meant Peter couldn't make a snappy remark about the sky being grey. He was silent for a long time before finally speaking. "Okay, yeah, so it was a panic attack," Peter admitted, sinking down into his seat. "But I hardly ever get 'em," he added.

Since becoming Spider-Man, Peter had been through a lot of crap. He'd seen his fair share of trauma and stress and he'd been absolutely fine. No flash-backs, no panic attacks, no nothing. He loved being Spider-Man. He loved the power, the adrenaline and, more than anything, he loved kicking butt and helping people. And, sure, he'd been scared for his life but never traumatized. But there was something about being trapped under several tons of concrete that just… broke him.

Becoming Spider-Man gave Peter freedom. He was the definition of a free-spirit. His spirit animal must've been some kind of high-flying bird because he needed to be free. Free to run and climb and swing around and more than anything else, he valued the idea of being able to make decisions for himself. He needed to have some sort of control in his life. He hated feeling helpless. It terrified him. It always had. And you don't get much more helpless than being trapped underneath a building. He couldn't move his arms or his legs. He'd been trapped. Sure, dying was scary, but helplessness was a whole other thing. Peter managed to neatly stuff the unwanted memory in one of the far corners of his mind but every once and a while it would rear it's ugly head: flashbacks, panic attacks, nightmares, the whole shebang.

"Does Tony Stark know about these panic attacks?" Happy asked.

"No," Peter responded simply. Peter hadn't told a soul about what had happened to him in that warehouse. Add that to the list of secrets he was keeping: secret identity, PTSD from a near-death experience, and a run-away Avenger sleeping on his couch. "Please don't tell him," Peter pleaded. "I don't want him looking down on me,"

Happy sighed. "Kid, he won't look down on you. How long have this been happening for?"

"A while," Peter responded vaguely, wanting to be uncooperative.

"How long is a while?" Happy probed.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," Peter stated simply. This conversation had the young hero on edge for two very different reasons: First, it was a sensitive subject. He didn't want to think to hard about it for fear of looking weak or, God forbid, having another attack. Second, and the all more important reason, he did not want Happy asking what had triggered this particular attack. Because how on earth was Peter supposed to explain that? 'Yeah, I was just thinking about jail because I'm harboring Captain America in my living room.' How about no?

"What are these other plans that Tony has in mind for me?" Peter asked, changing the subject.

Happy sighed, exasperated. If the kid was having panic attacks, then they needed to have a talk. It wasn't something Peter could keep secret forever. But right now was probably not the best time to reveal deep, dark secrets. After all, the kid was already in a world of hurt. No need to add emotional baggage on top of that. "He said he thought it might be better if you got checked out by a specialist up at the new tower instead of down here at the local hospital. Something about chemical reactions and spider-blood. I dunno. I didn't really understand what he was talking about anyways," Happy said gruffly, sounding a bit harsher than he'd intended.

Peter sighed and returned his head to the door of the car. Happy was clearly in a bad mood (wasn't he always?) but this time, Peter simply didn't have the energy to deal with it like he normally did. He just felt sort of… defeated.

Happy took note of Peter's suddenly silence and sighed. "Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to snap at 'cha. Rough night," he said simply.

"You're tellin' me," Peter mumbled.

The final hour or so of the drive was spent in total silence. When they finally arrived at the tower, Peter was escorted into a big lobby area and told to wait. Too tired to argue, Peter readily complied, sitting on one of the big, wide couched. He leaned his head against the armrest and groaned, closing his eyes. He was miserable.

"Peter!" a voice called, startling him from his dreams.

"Huh?" Peter asked and opened his eyes. Tony Stark, the Tony Stark was standing over him. "Mister Stark!" Peter exclaimed excitedly, jumping to his feet, the pain forgotten in the wake of his star-stuck excitement. No matter how many times he interacted with the Avenger, the sheer glee of associating with Iron Man never wore off.

Tony rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kid, it's Tony. We've been over this before. No more of this 'Mister Stark' stuff, understand?" he said firmly.

Peter nodded vigorously. Really, his only goal was to please Tony. After all, he was freaking Iron Man! Peter would probably never get over that. "Yes, sir," he said dutifully.

"None of this 'sir' crap, either. Makes me sound like my dad," Tony scolded and Peter nodded. "Now, let me see that arm of yours," he requested and Peter willingly complied.

Tony examined the arm carefully, shaking his head. "Those guys really did a number on you, kid," he said to himself.

"Mr—er, Tony. Listen, I hate to ask but… Why am I here?" Peter said.

"Happy didn't tell you?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter shook his head. "Well I mean, kinda, but it was vague. I didn't really understand what he meant,"

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was the point of relaying information if he just had to explain it all again? "Look, I've worked with a couple of people with super high-strung metabolisms before and I thought it would be best for you to get checked out by someone used to dealing with that kind of patient," he said simply.

Peter tilted his head in confusion. "And who's that?"

Tony couldn't help but smirk. "Who do you think, kid?"

Peter screwed up his face, deep in thought. "Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can't be serious," Peter breathed, the answer hitting him like a revelation from God Almighty. "You're telling me that my doctor is gonna be…" he hesitated for a moment, before whispering the name like is was something sacred. "…Doctor Banner?" he asked.

Tony grinned. He loved how easily star-struck this kid got. It was cute. "The one and only,"

"This is the greatest day of my life," Peter said without hesitation. For as much crap he gave Ned about being such a dorky fanboy, when it came right down to it, Peter was just as nerdy. "My doctor is the Hulk!" he exclaimed, probably louder than he should have.

Tony chuckled. "Just call him Bruce, kid. He doesn't really like talking about the Other Guy,"

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure, of course. This is so cool! Three Avengers in one weekend!" he blurted out and froze. Uh oh. Did he jut out his little secret?

Tony made a funny face, shooting Spider-Man a look of confusion. "Three?" he asked, clearly confused.

Luckily, unlike Ned, Peter wasn't half bad at lying. "Yeah. You, Dr. Banner and… Black Widow. I saw her outside while I was coming in. I mean, I didn't really meet her. Like, we didn't talk or anything. But I saw her from a distance though, and I totally think it counts," he covered smoothly, flashing a sheepish grin. Inside, however, he was freaking out.

Tony eyed Peter carefully. He got the feeling (once again) that he was hiding something, but he didn't press. If this behavior kept up, however… there would definitely be some questioning. He shook his head. "Whatever you say, kid. Listen, I've got to catch a plane down to Hungary for some big meeting. Dr. Banner will be down in a little while to take you to the medical wing so hang tight, alright? And I want you to notify me when you get home. Happy told me Ned and his uncle are gonna be lookin' out for you, but I want'cha to keep me in the loop, okay?" he spoke and turned away. Then he froze, as if he'd had a sudden thought. "Oh. And, also, I'm benching you until your arm heals," he ordered.

Peter sat up a little straighter. "What? No way. That's not fair!" he protested.

"Life isn't fair, kid. This is for your health, okay? Karen's gonna tell me if you try to pull any funny business, so don't get any ideas," Tony warned. Then, after a moment of thought added, "And no using that old suit of yours, either. You're on lockdown, Peter,"

Peter sighed and flopped against the couch cushions. There was nothing he could do, so why fight it? Besides, he had… other problems to worry about. Like, for example, the unconscious super soldier his best friend was babysitting back home. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Mr. Stark," Pater mumbled dejectedly.

"What did I just tell you—" Tony began.

"Tony. Sorry, Tony. I got it," Peter said, meeting the inventor's eyes with a confident smirk.

Tony shook his head. "Stay outta trouble!" he called as he walked away.

"No promises!" Peter responded cheekily. Tony merely waved him off.

Speaking of Steve and Ned, things back home were quickly becoming obnoxiously boring. Ned had done everything. He'd watched T.V., made himself breakfast, and watched Captain America sleep for a creepy amount of time, Ned was still incredibly bored but, luckily, there was one more thing he wanted to do…

Ned admired himself in the mirror. The Spider-Man suit was surprisingly comfortable, movable and easy-to-wear despite how skin-tight it appeared. "I look so sick...!" he mumbled to himself. Yes, he knew that he probably wasn't supposed to be wearing the Spider-Man suit, but he simply couldn't help himself! It was just laying on the floor, practically asking to be picked up and tried on. Besides, Peter was in the hospital and what Peter didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"Hello. Who are you?"

Ned practically jumped out of his skin when the suit suddenly started talking to him. "I... um... uh... Ned. I'm Peter's friend. Who are you?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I am an AI Mr. Stark designed to guide Peter after completing the Training Wheels protocol. Peter calls me 'Karen'," the kind sounding, suit-woman responded in a calm, even voice. She sounded kinda hot.

"Woah, that's so cool!" Ned exclaimed. "Can you teach me how to fire webs and do cool Spider-Man stuff?" Ned asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas.

"Unfortunately, you are not authorized to use those programs," the AI responded sympathetically.

Ned sighed dejectedly. "Yeah, I kinda figured... Thanks anyways, Karen,"

"My pleasure," Karen responded. "Although I can share with you some videos Peter has filmed, if you would like.

"What kind of videos?" Ned asked excitedly. He was hoping for some butt-kicking, action-packed footage.

A screen popped up with several videos. Excitedly, Ned selected one. "Dude. I didn't know Peter could bake!" he exclaimed. "He should totally do a show on Food Network. It'd totally watch that. I bet my mom would too," he commented. Then, he paused for a moment, thinking. "Hey, Karen? Don't tell Peter, okay?" he asked.

"Noted," she commented.

"Karen, you're the coolest lady ever," he commented as he admired himself in the mirror once more. "Hey Karen, do you think you could you help me pick up hot chicks? I mean, like, senior girls? You're a woman. What do women like?" he asked. He turned away from the mirror and froze. Karen said something in response, but whatever it was, Ned wasn't listening.

Steve Rogers was propped up against the arm of the couch, awake, alert, and starting at Ned in a mix of confusion and amusement. The Super Soldier looked as bad as he felt: he was pale and sweaty, his hair was messy and unkempt, and he looked so exhausted that the bags under his eyes had bags.

Immediately, Ned pulled off the mask. "I'm not Spider-Man," he said dumbly.

Steve chuckled a little. "I can see that," he responded good-naturedly.

Ned's brain could barely function. "Holy crap, you're so cool," he breathed. Suddenly, he remembered the promise he'd made to Peter and blurted out: "Hey, Peter's not Spider-Man either,"

Steve frowned. "Who's Peter?" he asked, sounding unconvinced.

Ned blinked and mentally smacked himself. "Uh... he's... not Spider-Man," was all he could think to say.

Steve smiled gently. Whoever this kid was, Ned, he seemed like a good kid. Steve liked him. "How long have I been out for, solider?" he asked, humoring the star-struck kid. When he first woke up, he was, admittedly, terrified. He had no idea where he was, how he got there, or what year it was. Part of him was worried he'd gone under again; that he'd wake up and everything would be differently.

"Since last night," Ned responded.

Steve sighed in relief. His whole posture relaxed. "So, I take it this is Peter's house?" he asked looking around the apartment. It was nice not waking up in a jail cell or an alleyway or a desert in the middle of nowhere.

"Yeah," Ned said, nodded. "He rescued you last night. Well, I mean, you kinda rescued him but then you passed out and he brought you here," he explained. Then he cringed and face-palmed. "No, wait, crap! Not Peter. Spider-Man. Spider-Man saved you. Crap! Peter isn't Spider-Man, I swear!"

This time, Steve outright laughed (although he was surprised at the pain the movement caused.) "It's alright, I won't tell," he assured. When he fought with Spider-Man in Germany, he remembered wondering how old the kid was. "So you work with Spider-Man, I take it?" Steve asked.

Ned's whole face lit up. "Oh, yeah. Definitely. I'm his guy-in-the-chair. His number one. Spider-Man would be toast without me,"

"And how old are you?" Steve asked out of curiosity.

"Fifteen!" Ned declared.

Steve's blood ran cold. It really wasn't hard to put two-and-two together. Steve thought Spider-Man was young but fifteen? He tried to beat up a fifteen-year-old. Sure, the kid was ridiculously strong but still, did that make it right? Not only that, but Tony knowingly brought a fifteen-year-old kid to battle? What if he'd been hurt or killed?

"Uh, hey, Mr. Captain America? Are you okay?" Ned asked, taking a step forward.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine, kid. Listen, why don't you call me Steve?" he asked. He had so many questions. After all, Spider-Man was on Tony's side, right? So why didn't he turn Captain America in? Could he trust Spider-Man? Did Stark know?

Steve was shaken from his thoughts when he realized that Ned hadn't responded. Looking up, he was somewhat startled to find Ned completely frozen, his mouth hanging open. "You okay?" Steve asked.

"Are you serious?" Ned asked and Steve frowned, growing uneasy.

"About what?" Steve asked cautiously.

"You want me to call you Steve?"

Now Steve was just confused. "Why? Is that a problem?" Had he offended the kid?

"No. It's just… We're on a first-name basis now. Does that… does make us friends?" Ned asked.

Steve exhaled, chuckling breathily. Not offended. Totally star-struck. Again, it was cute. Ned and Peter seemed like two inseparable friends. It almost reminded him of his own best friend, back in the 40s. That thought made him sad, so he pushed it away. "Yeah, of course. After all, you're lookin' after me, right?" he asked, smiling again.

Ned looked about ready to pass out. "This is the greatest day of my life. Can I tweet about this?"

"Ah… probably best not to," Steve advised.

Ned nodded. "Okay. Yeah, you're right. What about a selfie?"

Once again, Steve looked a little uneasy. "Uh, how about a little later? I don't exactly look my best..." he trailed off awkwardly, not sure how else to get out of it.

"I think you look great," Ned affirmed. "But yeah, don't worry, I gotcha. Hey, do you wanna build the TARDIS with me?"

In my head I see Peter's spirit animal as being a Mountain Blue-Jay. Just in case you were wondering.