A/N: Thank you so much to Abbi04, Simonana, MagicWarriorDragon, badwolfbay99, huge sg1 fan, Katdog272, Rosesroses25, RLMz, HappyBrainiac13, Fawkes83, Guest of honor, Silverdragon, gandalf537, Aqua468, mmgage, CarlyS123, Dalamanza and one guest for taking the time to share their thoughts with me! It's such a privilege to get a glimpse to your minds and I appreciate the way you took the time to leave me a review.

I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!


The smell of body spray and cigarettes reached his nostrils moments before a hard push in the back took him off guard. The push had Peter stumbling against - and half into - his open locker, but he still managed – if only just so – to hold back the instinctive reflex to jump up to the ceiling to shoot web at his attacker. Instead, he closed his locker, leaving his physics book in it, and turned around to scowl up at Maximillian Cunningham, who was now towering over him with a smirk on his tanned face with his two equally big and bulgy (for fifteen-year-olds) friends sniggering behind him – the shove might have been unexpected, but it wasn't surprising at all that it had been Maximillian behind the push.

"Max," Peter said by way of greeting, frowning at Maximillian and the two boys behind him.

Brayden Willington was fingering the red pimples on his cheeks as usual, his gaze just as malicious as it always was when it happened to land on Peter, while Francis Miller's dark hair covered most of his face apart from his mouth which hung slightly open as was characteristic to him.

"Why'd you push me?"

"You were in my way," Maximillian spoke mockingly slowly as if Peter wouldn't otherwise understand him. "That's what you do when someone is in your way, Petey boy. You get them out of your way."

"Or you could go around them and continue on with your day," Peter suggested and made a broad gesture at the hallway in general. "It's a wide enough hallway even for those with bigger heads."

They were standing in the first floor of the two-storey school building and Peter's locker was located near the front entrance, separated from it only by a corner and two sets of glass doors. At this time of the day, the front entrance wasn't in much use, although there were plenty of students at their lockers, standing in small groups or by themselves. Further away by the Spanish class, Liz Allan – with her blonde hair shining in the light of the flickering fluorescent lamps – was putting books into her locker, decorated with black damask, whilst chatting in an excited manner with Jasmine, Susan, Nora, Laura and all the other girls who had gathered around her, eager to be seen talking to the popular Liz Allan – the most wonderful girl in the entire school, as far as Peter was concerned – and Liz seemed to be including them all in the conversation with a dazzling smile on her pretty face.

She was the reason why Peter had been distracted enough to have been taken off guard by Maximillian, Francis and Brayden. His senses had been tuned to her presence, not entirely of his own free will, and he had been wondering if she was mad at him for the way he had stood her up on Thursday – they had been supposed to meet up after school to compare history notes, but Peter had forgotten all about it because of Mr. Stark's disappearance. Although Mr. Stark's disappearance was naturally his first priority, Peter hoped rather wistfully that he hadn't completely blown up his chances with Liz by not letting her know that he wouldn't be able to make it to their meeting, the meeting he had been over the moon about when she had first texted him and suggested it. In fact, Peter had forgotten all about her in his worrying and it hadn't been until right at this moment when he had seen her standing at her locker that it had occured to him that he should have at least sent her a text to apologize for the way he hadn't turned up at their meeting after all.

"For a small guy the monkey sure talks a lot," said Maximillian as he took a threatening step closer to Peter.

This close to their source, the smells of body spray and cigarettes felt overpowering to Peter's sharp senses and he had to breathe through his mouth to not gag – it was at moments like these when he wished he could have always worn his Spider-Man mask to filter smells.

Maximillian threw a smirk over his shoulder at his friends and shoved Peter in the shoulder.

"How do you even teach a monkey to talk?"

"Your parents would know," Peter quipped – it wasn't a nice thing to say, but his eyes were stinging due to the powerful smells around him and it made him irritable. He could now distinct Brayden's bad breath and sweaty armpits and the weed in Francis' pocket and a general faint smell of urine, and he took an almost involuntary step backwards away from the sources of the unpleasant smells, which had him standing back against the cool metal surface of the lockers.

Maximillian snorted, looking Peter up and down with the smirk still firmly in place.

"Look at you, Parker – backing away like the sissy little fag you are. Pathetic!"

Peter sighed, adjusting the school bag strap on his shoulder – he really didn't have the time or the energy to deal with his classmates today:

It was now Friday morning and Mr. Stark had been missing for over eight days, since Wednesday evening the week before. Since last Friday, while the former Avengers had been sniping at each other and making the atmosphere in the Tower unbearably tense, Peter had spent most of his time by searching for clues that could lead them after Mr. Stark. By Sunday morning, Peter had been forced to do his best to plead everyone to work together because arguing wasn't helping Mr. Stark any. Thankfully, the adults had had the sense to look ashamed and since Sunday afternoon, they had indeed been working together to come up with anything to help them to locate Mr. Stark. Romanov and Barton had been in contact with their various sources, Maximoff had been studying the glass figurine and the rest of them - with FRIDAY's help - had done pretty much everything they could think of, starting with studying the image files, ending with making lists of all the people who might be after Steve Rogers for revenge, for the serum in his blood, for any reason.

Peter, for his part, couldn't say how many hours he had spent by staring at the glass figurine in its secure casing in the Tower's laboratory, looking straight in its eight eyes as if to force it to reveal something, anything about Mr. Stark's whereabouts, but it had been long enough for Maximoff to go get some rest, long enough for everyone to leave Peter alone in the laboratory, long enough for him to take off the Spider-Man mask to ground himself - to rub his eyes with his protected hands, so he could, for a moment, feel more like Peter than Spider-Man, more like an average boy than a superhero with plenty of responsibilities.

As Peter, without the mask, he had stared at the scorpion and it had felt like it had been staring right back, and Peter had wanted little more than to throw it against the wall and to wish to wake up in his own bed to find out that it had all been a nightmare, that Mr. Stark hadn't been kidnapped for real. But he hadn't woken up and it hadn't been a nightmare. Mr. Stark was missing and the people looking for him were stuck with their investigations and Peter was bursting with frustration.

On top of that, a worried Miss Wilson – Peter's English teacher – had called Aunt May the evening before – Thursday evening, that was – to ask her why Peter hadn't been coming to school the whole week, which had prompted Aunt May to interrogate Peter on where he had spent all his time and Peter had had to come up with new lies in order to cover up his tracks.

"I was helping Mrs. Beckett!" had been the first lie to burst out of Peter's mouth. "I couldn't focus on studying at school with all the worrying, but I've been sweeping the floors at her pet shop, and the manual labor – as well as the presence of the animals – has really helped me to deal with Mr. Stark's disappearance. Mrs. Beckett has even made me tea to calm my nerves and we have been listening to her old vinyl records."

That wasn't entirely a lie, although it hadn't been Peter but Spider-Man who had swiped the floors clean while "Eleanor Rigby" had been playing in the background and Mrs. Beckett had drunk the tea to calm her nerves. And that hadn't happened in the past five days but in June, months ago, sometime after Peter had met Mr. Stark for the first time: Spider-Man had been fighting a super villain in the neighborhood and Mrs. Beckett's pet shop had been damaged due to the fighting. Mrs. Beckett was an elderly woman, a friend of Aunt May's late great aunt, and she often waved at Peter when Peter biked by her pet shop to school, so obviously Spider-Man had had to go help with the clean-up as soon as he had managed to stop the bleeding of his nose.

Aunt May – whose parenting methods were about mutual trust – had given Peter the benefit of doubt and eventually she had believed him, much to the displeasure of Peter's conscience.

"I should have been there for you more," she had sighed. "I'm sorry, Peter – I know how hard this is for you – you wouldn't skip school unless you felt like you really had to. From now on, I will be there for you. I promise I will be a better aunt."

"You already are the best aunt there is," Peter had sworn, but she had only given him a sad smile and squeezed his hand.

"That's only because you make it so easy for me," she had said. "You are such a sweet boy."

Nevertheless, she had forbidden him from "going to bother Mrs. Beckett" anymore and had instead told Peter that he had to go to school since he had already skipped so many classes.

"Tony wouldn't want you to fall behind," she had said. "He would want you to try to continue on as normal. Let's respect him by doing just that. If- no, when. When Tony comes back, we'll go see him, okay? But until then, we'll be brave and keep on going as normally as we can."

This morning, true to her words to "be there for Peter", Aunt May had driven Peter to school herself, telling him that she would be by to pick him up in the afternoon, and Miss Wilson had happened to be walking by their car just at that point and she had greeted Aunt May and had then walked with Peter into the school building with the result that now Peter was stuck at school while Mr. Stark was still missing, and Peter couldn't remember if he had ever in his life felt as frustrated.

Mr. Stark had been missing for over eight days and each day Peter had become more and more frustrated. He hadn't yet been able to do anything for Mr. Stark – apart from catching the scorpion figurine – and now he was on his way to the biology class to learn about blood cells while Mr. Stark was somewhere out there being tortured. Peter felt useless, useless!

Peter was so frustrated that he had been seriously considering revealing his identity just so he could skip school in favor of going to search for Mr. Stark – Mr. Stark's life was obviously more important than Peter's secret. He had nevertheless eventually chosen against that as his revelation could have had a more negative impact on the situation - child protective services would have likely gotten involved and both Aunt May and Mr. Stark might have been accused of "child endangerment" and Peter might have been taken into custody, one way or another, and if he had been useless before, then there would have been absolutely nothing he could have done for Mr. Stark.

If only Peter had already been eighteen! It wasn't like Peter was a child anymore – he would be of age in three short years – so he knew how to look after himself. He was young, sure, but being young didn't equal to being helpless and in a constant need of being protected by his elders. Mr. Stark was cool like that – he never patronized Peter and sometimes it almost felt like Mr. Stark was feeling sorry for him for the way Peter couldn't yet rule his own life, for the way he had to obey the adults in his life, for the way he had to comply with the decisions others made on his behalf. Mr. Stark despised being ordered around and Peter had noticed that if someone told Mr. Stark to do something, it wasn't unlikely that Mr. Stark made a point of not complying, so in that way it wasn't all that unexpected that he sympathized with Peter's inconvenient situation.

"It's just three more years and then when you feel like taking a break from it all, you'll just take your favorite cruiser and sail for a bit and no-one can tell you to not do it," Mr. Stark would say in a consoling manner. He often seemed to forget that Peter wasn't as rich as he was, it was one of his several quirks. "Three more years and then you can tell your teachers to suck it."

"I would never!" Peter had said – even the thought had made him uncomfortable and flustered. "I like my teachers, especially Señor Almeida, who works really hard to come up with motivating ways for me to learn Spanish because he knows I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the subjunctive."

"Huh," Mr. Stark had said, looking suddenly thoughtful. "...do you like paella? I like paella. We should totally ask May to come to eat paella with us. I know a good place."'

And so the three of them had had paella at Socarrat Paella Bar.

"Parker is a psycho," Brayden was saying, as he popped a zit on his cheek and wiped the sebum away with the sleeve of his dark blue New York Yankees hoodie – not for the first time, judging from the stains on his sleeves. "I bet Stark has been using him for human experimentation and that's why he is now the kind of a psycho he is. Logically thinking, that would be the only reason why a genius like Stark would have any interest in the monkey."

Francis let out a sudden high-pitched bark of laughter which drew the surrounding students' attention to them and hurt Peter's sensitive hearing and made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. Opening one eye slightly, he gave the laughing boy an exasperated look.

He could have easily had the three bigger boys at his mercy. He could have had them sobbing on the floor in but seconds – or worse, he could have seriously harmed them. But while he technically could have done it, he never would have and he well knew it – Maximillian, Brayden and Francis were running their mouths like the immature teenagers they were, but their immaturity wasn't a reason enough for Peter to hurt them.

They didn't truly understand what they were doing, Peter wanted to believe. Maximillian was compensating for his general lack of self-confidence and his friends were trying to impress the other two – it was a complicated game of social power and peer pressure – and Peter – the seemingly harmless, nerdy Peter Parker – was a convenient target for their aggressions, or at least he had become one since it had become generally known that Mr. Stark had taken an interest in him.

While Mr. Stark's friendship had made Peter cooler in the eyes of some of the girls, some of the boys had become outright hostile towards him, Maximillian among them. Apparently it was a cause for much envy to have Iron Man as your friend and some of Peter's schoolmates – like Maximillian – were going to great lengths to demonstrate how very little they cared and how very little it mattered to them that Mr. Stark liked Peter enough to show up at the school's science fairs but hadn't ever even attempted to talk to them when he had been there. The way Peter had suddenly become more popular among the girls was another reason for boys like Maximillian to dislike Peter.

Peter hadn't told about the bullying to Mr. Stark because he didn't want Mr. Stark to feel bad and he hadn't told Aunt May because he didn't want Aunt May to storm into the school as she likely would have done if she had believed that someone was giving Peter a hard time. Basically, Peter had told no-one, but it wasn't like he wasn't used to keeping secrets, was it. He could deal with one more secret just fine, couldn't he.

"That's hardly the only reason, Francis," Maximillian was saying. "My mom says that Parker's gold digger of an aunt has a thing for Stark. And Stark, as everyone knows, has a thing for easy chicks - he's nice to Parker only because he wants to get it on with Parker's aunt."

Maximillian's mother, Teresa Smith-Cunningham was even more unlikeable than his son and Aunt May's unexpected friendship with Mr. Stark – rich, powerful, handsome, intelligent bachelor – had stroke a jealous chord in the overall nasty woman, married though she was. If Teresa Smith-Cunningham had been unpleasant to Aunt May before, she had been nothing sort of cruel as of late. Just like Peter, Aunt May had come to the decision to not tell Mr. Stark about it and she had repeatedly reminded Peter to not say anything about it to Mr. Stark, to never let Mr. Stark know that his presence in their life was causing them problems – "It would make him feel bad, Peter, and goodness only knows that he doesn't need that on top of everything."

Peter could only agree with that.

"And don't you let Maximillian provoke you in any manner," Aunt May had said on more than one account. "I'm sure he can be as mean as his mother, but don't you stoop down to his level, Peter. If he says anything mean to you about me and Tony, just ignore it and eventually he will get bored and leave you be."

Despite of promising Aunt May to do just that, Peter couldn't now just stand there silently when both Aunt May and Mr. Stark were being insulted.

"Leave my aunt out of this!" he therefore said, flushed with anger, jabbing Maximillian in the broad chest with his forefinger, although he was sure to be mindful of his strength.

Around them, the hallway had fallen silent and he could sense the way Liz Allan had come closer and was now looking right at him – he resisted the urge to look in her direction in turn.

"And don't talk about Mr. Stark like that. They are both good human beings and you're only making yourself sound like a clueless idiot!"

Max sneered at him down his nose, folding his arms. Brayden looked from Maximillian to Francis as if to coax what kind of a reaction he should have had, settling for plucking at the scab on his chin.

"Speaking of Stark," put in Francis in a mocking tone, ignoring the warning look Peter threw in his direction, "why are you at school, Parker? Stark has been missing for days now, hasn't he, and when a missing person has been gone for twenty-four hours, they're as good as dead – everyone knows that – so shouldn't you be at home planning your speech for Stark's funeral?"

And that was it. Peter was done. He was done with these bullies who dared to insult Aunt May and talk about Mr. Stark's situation in such an impassive, mocking manner. Peter was done wasting his time at school with these people when he should have been out there looking for Mr. Stark. He was done. He would skip all the lessons all the way up to university if that was what it would take to find Mr. Stark! He would even let Aunt May in on his Spider-Man secret, but he would not – he would not – spend a minute longer at school with Maximillian, Francis and Brayden pretending to be just a regular student when he needed to be out there looking for Mr. Stark, when he had the responsibility to use his powers for good, for a friend.

"Like they would let Parker give a speech at Stark's funeral!"

"That's enough, Maximillian!" put in Liz's voice sharply. "Do you even hear what you're saying? Someone Peter cares about is missing and you rub it in his face? How dare you!"

She pushed her way pass the staring students and came to stand right next to Maximillian with her arms akimbo, glaring up at Maximillian's considerably taller form, her white handbag thrown carelessly over her shoulder.

"Ooh, a white knight in a shining armor," Maximillian said, prompting Francis and Brayden to snigger. "Figures that Parker would need a girl to rescue him."

Liz's glare seemed to intensify.

"Shut up," she said. "No-one here wants to listen to you for a moment longer, so just shut up."

Peter could have handled the situation by himself just fine, but his heart nevertheless jumped a bit at the sight of Liz caring enough to come to his defence. It was brave of her to do - she, like Peter, wanted to do the right thing - and while he stood there, shaking with anger, embarrassed to be seen in such a situation by all his peers, her act made him feel less alone and he appreciated what she was trying to do for him.

Trutfully, Peter was more shaken than he was letting on. Francis and Maximillian had managed to hit him straight to where it hurt the most, straight to his fears, his nightmares, and Peter couldn't bring himself to think of their comments about funeral speeches. The horrible possibility that Mr. Stark might not ever come back to his Tower alive had been a constant weight in his mind since Thursday morning when Aunt May had woken him up telling him that Mr. Stark had been kidnapped. Since Thursday when Peter had seen the images of a tortured Mr. Stark, he had been having nightmares in which Mr. Stark was crying for his help, crying for Spider-Man, crying for Peter, and Peter would wander in complete darkness, desperate, hearing Mr. Stark but never seeing him, never finding him, and he would startle awake with an urgent feeling that he needed to get up and do something

what

what!

to help Mr. Stark.

To have his nightmares, his fears, his worry thrown at his face in the school's hallway carelessly, nonchalantly - just because his bullies were immature and petty and unsure of themselves and just because they tried to make themselves feel more powerful by teaming up against Peter - it made something in Peter's heart freeze over, something cold tighten its grasp around his stomach even while he was burning with anger at their impudence, at the way they dared to talk about Mr. Stark like he was... like he was...

Like he wouldn't come back home.

None of these were things Peter would have wanted Maximillian, Francis and Brayden to know about, though, so instead he said in a low voice,

"You just crossed the line, guys, and if Mr. Stark won't make it back home, I'll remember this moment and I'll make sure that you won't forget this either. Ever."

It was silent in the hallway. No-one spoke and it was as if people around them were holding their breaths, waiting to see what would happen next. The note of his words and the look in Peter's eyes must have been dangerous indeed as even Maximillian looked taken aback.

With one last glare at the taller boys, Peter turned to Liz, looking at her the best he could from the three large bodies blocking her from his sight. Rubbing the nape of his neck, feeling all of a sudden a bit awkward, he offered her a shaky smile over Francis' shoulder.

"Uh, hey, Liz, about last Thursday…" he began rather stiffly. "I'm really sorry that I didn't text you that I couldn't make it to our meeting after school."

With her gaze now focused on Peter rather than Maximillian, her eyes were full of sympathy and she gave him a soft smile.

"That's all right," she assured him. "I read the news about… I mean, I heard that Tony Stark had been kidnapped and I knew that you would have other things in your mind. I'm not mad or anything, so don't worry about it."

Fear and worry had been Peter's constant companions since Mr. Stark had gone missing and the relief he now felt – relief that she wasn't mad at him, relief that he hadn't completely messed things up with her – was as welcoming as cooling wind in a hot day.

"If you still want to, we could meet up today after school?"

"That'd be really nice," admitted Peter, stifling the feeling of longing, "but I honestly can't make it. Perhaps some other time."

She looked disappointed, and while Peter was sorry for disappointing her, he couldn't come to regret his decision because locating and saving Mr. Stark was now his number one priority and not even meeting up with Liz Allan could compare to that.

Conscious of all the jealous glares ("Did Liz Allan just ask that nerd out?"), disbelieving stares ("Did that nerd really just ditch Liz Allan?") and curious looks he was getting from the students around them, Peter pushed pass Maximillian, ignoring the look of startled surprise on Maximillian's face when he shoved the bigger boy aside with no difficulty at all. Both Brayden and Francis, equally startled, made room for him as he made his way pass by them towards the entrance door – the look he shot at the two boys must have been quite fierce and threatening indeed.

"Where are you going?" Liz asked him, hurrying to walk beside him as he rounded the corner and left the staring students behind. "You're not skipping classes because of those three jerks, are you? Don't let them get to you, Peter – they are just that, jerks."

"I'm not leaving because of them, no."

Quickly coming up with a believable lie since he couldn't go blurting out that Spider-Man would be going to search for Mr. Stark, school or no school, Peter added, "I've just got too many things on my mind. I'm awfully worried for Mr. Stark, Liz. I… need to go home."

She bit her lip and came to a halt when Peter pushed the second set of glass doors open. Cool air of early October sneaked inside and quickly embraced him from head to toe, bringing with it the fresh earthy scent of rain, and Liz shivered in her short dress, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"I understand," she said softly. "I'll... take notes and I'll share them with you later. I've actually been taking notes for you all week. I'll give them to you when you feel like you're ready to come back to school."

"Thanks, Liz. I'd appreciate that."

"I hope they will find Mr. Stark soon."

"So do I..."

The asphalt schoolyard was full of puddles and their surface was rippling with steadily falling rain drops. Peter turned his back to her glowing face and the warmth of the school building and stepped into the rain, into the misery, determined to do all he could to find Mr. Stark and to bring him home.

"Bye, Liz."

"Bye, Peter."

Later, he would come to wish that he had said something more to her by way of a farewell.


Much to his surprise, there was a black van – gleaming in the rain – with the logo of the Stark Industries painted on it waiting for him at the school's parking lot. When Peter walked pass by it towards the bus stop, the hood pulled over his head to protect him from the constant drizzle, the door of the van slid open and a sturdy woman wearing the green uniform of the Stark Industries' postal staff quickly climbed out of the van.

"Mr. Parker!" the woman cried, hurrying towards him in a slightly waddling gait, her shoes splashing the water of the puddles. "Mr. Parker, please, wait!"

He came to a halt, already fishing for his phone out of his pocket to check if Rhodes had sent him a text telling him that something new had come up, that he was sending a van to pick him up – only to realize that, no, of course Rhodes wouldn't be sending vans to pick up Spider-Man at Peter's school – Rhodes didn't know who Spider-Man was, after all, and he wouldn't be sending anyone to pick up Peter Parker if he needed Spider-Man. Indeed, there were no new messages, not from Rhodes or anyone else, and Peter slid the phone back in his pocket, wiping the rain drops off the screen as he did so.

"Mr. P-Parker," the woman panted when she reached him, her short brown hair plastered on her forehead due to the rain.

Looking at her closer, Peter recognized her from the security footage as the unfortunate staff member who had delivered the letter - the threat - to Mr. Stark on Wednesday evening, the woman to whom Mr. Stark had been talking to while he had been on the phone with Peter but moments before his kidnapping. A glance at her name tag now confirmed that, yes, this was indeed Eleanore Jenkins, the same woman who had delivered the letter but hadn't been able to tell the police where the said letter had come from.

"Yes, I'm that Eleanore Jenkins," she now answered Peter's enquiry, wringing her hands, sounding close to tears. "And no, even if I am here to pick you up, I'm not a driver - officially, anyway - but ever since I d-delivered that blasted letter to Mr. Stark, Miss Potts has had me to do all kinds of odd jobs, likely as a punishment – as if it wasn't enough when the head of my department gave me a formal reprimand for not following the normal procedure of Mr. Stark's post delivery. I'm not a smart woman, Mr. Parker, but I'm trying, I'm doing my best."

Peter had seen the footage of her questioning and he now recalled the way Miss Jenkins had begun to cry, asking the detectives if she was going to lose her job, if Mr. Stark was dead because of her, and he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her – she couldn't have known what the letter contained, she wasn't to blame, and if Miss Potts had in all actuality been punishing her for that, it was a terribly unfair and unprofessional thing of her to do.

"It wasn't your fault," Peter tried to console the upset woman. "I mean, you couldn't have known."

"Yes, well, but what can you do," Eleanore Jenkins said with a sniff, wiping her eyes. "I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but Miss Potts has sent me to fetch you to the Stark Tower."

Peter frowned, looking from the woman at the black van, wariness creeping up his spine.

"Why?"

"I wouldn't know, sir," Miss Jenkins said with a wince. "My job isn't to know things but to do as I am told, especially after the last fiasco I caused when I didn't do as I was told, with the letter and all… I am, nevertheless, really sorry to interrupt your school day."

"Don't worry about it, Miss Jenkins," said Peter, although his thoughts were already elsewhere.

If Miss Potts needed him at the Tower, it meant that something new had come up, something new that Miss Potts needed Peter Parker for, not Spider-Man. Peter wracked his brain, trying to think of what it could be that she needed him for, but try as he might, he couldn't come up with anything.

"I suppose we better go, then," he said and allowed Miss Jenkins to lead him to the van.

He would be going to the Tower anyway, so getting a ride there would be quite convenient. If something new had come up, Peter would answer Miss Pott's questions - but this time he wouldn't let anyone keep Spider-Man from searching for Mr. Stark for long, so she needed to ask her questions quickly.

Mr. Stark had been missing for over eight days and Peter was now determined to let nothing or no-one prevent him from focusing on his search for Mr. Stark. Peter wouldn't be going back to school until he had found Mr. Stark, not anymore, and if - when - Aunt May would call him to ask about his whereabouts, Peter would tell her the truth, he would tell her that he was Spider-Man and that he was thefore looking for Mr. Stark and that he needed her to understand that Mr. Stark's life was now more important than anything she wanted to yell at Peter about and he would tell her to not worry, that he would look after himself and that he would bring Mr. Stark home as well. Aunt May would likely freak out, but if Peter didn't now do all that he could to help Mr. Stark, how would he be able to live with himself if something fatal was to happen to Mr. Stark - and what would Aunt May later think of him if he didn't help Mr. Stark just for the sake of keeping his identity a secret from her!

Thinking of all that, Peter climbed up into the van to ride shotgun, while Miss Jenkins took her seat next to him.

"Please, fasten your seat belt, Mr. Parker," she told him, turning the key in the ignition.

Peter did as he was told, but just as the seat belt locked with a clip, he heard an odd rustling sound which immediately drew his attention. It was a faint sound, barely audible from the sound of rain - likely not audible to anyone with no super hearing - but it was there, and while he initially confused it with the sound of rain drops hitting the car, he soon realized that it wasn't only coming from above him but from all around him.

That was as far as Peter managed to think before several glass scorpions were on him, swarming up his legs - pop, pop, pop, they dropped onto him from above - instantly stinging him, and even though Peter's reaction was as instant as their appearance from the hidden compartments of the car, he was too slow even with his spider reflexes, and the seat belt - clearly enhanced, like the seat belts in all Stark vehicles due to the company of super enhanced people Mr. Stark often kept- was unyielding and kept his trashing body in place, and while he shot web at the scorpions, there were now too many of them crawling all over him, he couldn't even see his legs from all the glass scorpions.

But a moment later, he could no longer move - he had been paralyzed, and the terror that now seized him was uncomparable to anything he had felt before. He screamed, screamed, SCREAMED in his mind, but not a sound left him.

They drove in silence for what felt like the longest moments of Peter's life. He could still feel the scorpions moving around on his limp form, on his body that was hunched over, held up only by the seat belt, following along with the movements of the van listlessly, out of his control. He was scared and felt that he had let Mr. Stark down: Jenkins was likely planning on using him as levarage against Mr. Stark, Peter came to the conclusion rather hysterically. Perhaps she was going to torture Peter in order to force Mr. Stark to tell her of Mr. Rogers' whereabouts. Whatever her plan was, Peter had let Mr. Stark down by falling victim to her trap - and now they both were in trouble.

"Don't worry, Mr. Parker, the paralysis is only temporary," Miss Jenkins broke the silence eventually and Peter was disgusted to feel her hand patting his shoulder only to realize that she was actually petting one of the scorpions, not him.

Gone was the upset woman and in her stead, there was a cool voice with no emotion, a calculating, intelligent voice, and Peter felt sick with the knowledge that she had played them all, she was in on Mr. Stark's kidnapping and she had played them all - she had likely brought the letter into the Tower herself and she had now kidnapped Peter, too, to use him against Mr. Stark.

Although, Peter concluded, she didn't know that he was Spider-Man, did she. She didn't know he was Spider-Man and that was a great advantage for Mr. Stark and him, to put it mildly. After all, Miss Jenkins was now in all probability taking Peter straight to Mr. Stark - she was taking Spider-Man to Mr. Stark and wasn't that exactly what Peter had wanted all along, to find Mr. Stark!

Actually, now that he thought about it, his kidnapping could actually be a step forward, if you looked at it positively (Peter always tried to look at everything positively) - perhaps this was exactly what would be needed to help Mr. Stark. The kidnappers were now taking Spider-Man straight to Mr. Stark and Spider-Man was going to save Mr. Stark and wasn't that just a fun turn for the events!

Peter might have chuckled had he not been paralyzed and absolutely terrified.


When they eventually came to a stop, Peter felt a sting in his arm as Jenkins injected him with something. Gradually everything went black and silent and he lost consciousness.


Peter became aware of the cold ground beneath him and someone talking to him in a soft voice while rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He listened to the voice for a while before he was able to put a name to it - Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark!

As soon as he realized who it was that was talking to him, it all came back to Peter - Mr. Stark's kidnapping, his own kidnapping.

While Peter had been unconscious, Jenkins must have brought him to wherever Mr. Stark was being kept and now he was there - wherever he was - with Mr. Stark. He was lying there on the ground in the recovery position while Mr. Stark was rubbing his back and murmuring in a soothing voice, "- if it's the last thing I'll ever do! Fucking will tear the bastards to pieces for this and I'll blast that fucking Scorpion, and if those motherfucking-"

And there was so much cursing that Peter felt himself flushing - yeah, while Mr. Stark's tone was soothing, his words were anything but.

Peter forced his eyes open, despite of how heavy his lids felt. Blinking, he took in the man above him. Mr. Stark was kneeling beside him and Peter felt his blood freezing at the sight of him: Mr. Stark's face and hair were caked with dry blood as if someone had held his head in a bucket full of it and there had been droplets of blood running down his chest, too, all the way down to his bare belly. Mr. Stark still wasn't wearing a shirt, just like he hadn't been in the images Peter had seen of his torture, and his trousers were now even more torn. He was pale and his back was hunched, he was favoring his left side as if it was paining him, but his eyes were smoldering with hatred, with fury, and the hand that wasn't rubbing Peter's back was clenched in a white-knuckled fist on his tigh.

"I've come to rescue you," Peter tried to comfort Mr. Stark, his voice hoarse, and Mr. Stark's eyes shot to his face.

For a moment, Mr. Stark stared at him blankly as if he couldn't quite believe that Peter was looking up at him, as if he couldn't believe that Peter was now talking to him. Then Mr. Stark blinked and croaked, "What?"

"I've come to rescue you, Mr. Stark!" Peter told the man again and Mr. Stark let out a startled bark of laughter, never once taking his gaze off of Peter.

He must have been terribly traumatized due to his experiences, Peter understood, and quite confused by Peter's appearance.

"Don't worry," he therefore said with even more emphasis, reaching out to give Mr. Stark's hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be getting out of here, like, real soon! As soon as I can, you know, stand up."


The cell was cold and dark and filled with unpleasant smells varying from the dank smell of earth to the smells of urine and blood, but the worst part was nevertheless the constant roaring coming from above them - the roar of the Atlantic Ocean, Mr. Stark had told him, and while it was sort of cool to be beneath the ocean bed, the constant reminder that they could drown at any second was suffocating, no pun intended.

"Couldn't get us a better room," Mr. Stark told him apologetically. "You know how it is with these cheap resorts - doesn't matter how early you book a room, the facilities will still be disappointing."

"We should leave them a bad online review," Peter agreed. "'One star: Asked to have a room with a view of the sea - were given a room beneath the ocean instead.'

Mr. Stark chuckled.

"No bathroom, terrible room service..." he listed. "The bad review alone won't be enough - I'll need to have Pepper call the manager."

They were now sitting side by side, Peter and Mr. Stark, leaning against the stone wall, their arms brushing. Peter still wasn't able to stand up and he didn't yet have the strength to pull the bars apart either, not nearly enough for the two of them to leave the cell, so there was now little for them to do but to wait for him to regain his strength.

"Must have been pretty powerful stuff they injected me with," Peter mused out loud. "Because I feel now really faint and freezing, like really faint and freezing. You know, kind of like I'd lost a lot of blood recently."

Shivering, Peter hugged his legs, and Mr. Stark - silent and looking grim - wrapped an arm over his shoulders, drawing him closer to his side.

As they sat there, side by side, Peter told Mr. Stark of Eleanore Jenkins and how she had lured him into the car. Mr. Stark was dismayed to hear that at least one member of his own staff was behind the kidnapping, but he didn't look surprised, just like he didn't look surprised when Peter told him of the image files and how they had received them in the Tower. Peter told Mr. Stark that it had been over a week since his disappearance and he told him that Rhodes had called Rogers in and that Rogers and "Rogers' people" - as Mr. Stark referred to Barton, Romanov, Wilson, Maximoff and Lang - had come to the Tower and were now trying to find him.

"Or rather, 'us', I guess, considering," Peter said with a sigh. "I'm sorry for letting you down, Mr. Stark. I should've been smarter than to let Jenkins catch me like that."

The arm around him tightened its hold.

"'S not your fault, Peter."

"They're going to use me against you," Peter blurted out, unable to hold the truth of the matter in anymore. "If I don't regain my strength in time, they'll use me against you and they'll try to make you tell Mr. Rogers' location to them! They're going to use me against you."

Mr. Stark didn't say anything, so Peter continued, "But don't worry, Mr. Stark, because we still have one great advantage on our side: they don't know I'm Spider-Man."

Instead of agreeing with Peter that that was, indeed, a great advantage, Mr. Stark swallowed and closed his eyes, turning his head momentarily away from Peter as if to hide whatever emotion was now running across his face. When he turned back to Peter, he looked tired and worried and quite unlike himself.

"They do know you're Spider-Man, Peter," Mr. Stark said in a low voice, gently. "They know you're Spider-Man and that's exactly why you are now here."

Peter stared at Mr. Stark.

"How could they?" he asked with disbelief. "How could they know? We've been so careful."

Mr. Stark sighed and answered Peter's questions.


A/N: I guess we'll have to wait till the next chapter to hear what Tony has to say... In the meanwhile, as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!