This will be the last chapter. Thank you guys so much for the follows and the favorites and I hope you like how this ends!

Enjoy!

Tony slowly recovered.

Each time he woke up, he was hit with the stiff feeling of knowing he had gotten his ass handed to him. And even that took him a few wakeful bouts to remember in snippets. The pain killers the doctors had him on were doing the trick though and most of the pain he knew he should be feeling, given the multiple casts and bandages he could see, was not present. At some point he found out that he had been unconscious for a little more than two weeks and many of his lesser injuries had started to heal but the casts would need to stay on for at least four more weeks and he had been warned it might even a few more beyond that. That was about all he got before he fell back to sleep.

He slept a lot. Each time he forced himself into consciousness someone would be sitting by his bed. Sometimes it was Bruce. Other times it was Cap. And once or twice it was even Natasha. Pepper was there by far more than anyone else and at one point, when he was feeling more lucid, he asked her about the one person he expected to see, "Pep, have you seen Pete?"

She had been reading a report on something when he spoke, his croaky voice causing her to jump slightly before she grabbed the water by the bed and helped him drink. When he had a few sips, she set the water down and could not keep the frown off her face, "I haven't seen Peter since you woke up the first time, no one has. Bruce even tried calling him a few times but he hasn't answered."

Tony heard the heart rate monitor speed up slightly as the panic at what that could mean flashed in his mind.

Pepper seemed to know what he was thinking though because she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He's fine Tony. He's still be doing his Spider-man thing, we've seen him on the news and Happy has been watching his tracker. He's okay, he just not talking to us for some reason…" She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air as her mind wandered back to the nightmares she knew he was having.

"What's wrong, Pep?" Tony felt a second wave of energy hit him and for the first time in what seemed like weeks, his mind felt clear enough to continue talking.

"It's nothing Tony." She gave him a soft smile, "I'm just worried about the two of you."

Tony hummed at that, his mind going back to the kid, there was not much that could have driven him away so Tony selfishly or knowingly, he was not sure which, wondered what he had done. Then a thought occurred to him, "How long have I been in and out like this?"

She gave him a tired smile, "Nearly two weeks." Pepper looked like she wanted to continue but then thought better of it.

Tony caught her hesitation, "What is it Pepper?"

"I'm just glad Peter found you when he did." She had tears in her eyes but she covered them with a small smile, "But the doctors said you should be able to be up and moving around in the next couple of days."

Tony could not help the guilt that rose in his chest at the pain he had caused her, again. But the idea of finally getting out of this bed and maybe talking to the kid was a welcome one, "Can I have my phone?" Maybe Pete would answer his calls, if nothing else they would be more difficult to ignore if Karen answered them.

His side hurt when he finally got on top of the roof. Normally he would have blocked that knife but he had just been too distracted to see it and the mugger had gotten it through his guard. Laying his hand across his side, he pulled the glove back to see blood on the fabric. Instantly, his mind threw him back to the man he had killed and the way his blood had stained his suit for what felt like the better part of a week. Feeling the nausea roll through his stomach, Peter sat down heavily to center himself. He told himself that Mr. Stark was alive and his Aunt was safe because of what he had done. It made him feel a little better but then he reminded himself that he was justifying murder. Grunting, he dropped back onto his back and felt at the wound again. It was shallow as far as knife wounds went and it was already starting to feel better. The bruises from the bank robbers, they were going to take a little more time to heal. The stitch in his side forced him to lay flat and slow down his breathing to the point where the pain ebbed a bit. He laid on the roof for a while trying to catch his breath and desperately trying to keep from thinking. The problem was that when he was tired, it was harder to keep the thoughts out and he had not slept well since the incident. His thoughts were a smattering of things but most of them rotated back to the man who had tried to kill Mr. Stark. He shifted involuntarily as his battered legs started to ache and the pain forced his thoughts to solidify. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes again and he could not help keep the memories out.

Tony had woken up and Peter had been there. Had been in the room as he groaned into the world of consciousness. Had even watched him open his unfocused eyes for the first time since the kid had found him and in that moment, what Peter had done to get him there coalesced. All the blood and the pain and the fear slammed into him and he could do nothing else but run. He bolted out of the room. He remembered Bruce yelling for him and Cap trying to catch him, but he ignored them. He escaped the complex and slung a web the first chance he got, knowing they would not be able to follow him quick enough, not when they were busy with making sure Tony was okay.

As the kid lay on the rooftop, twisting his mind over the events he flashed back to the blood and the pain again, watched himself pummel that man's face into a gory, dead pulp and not feel guilty about it. He was broken, finally broken. He had done the one thing he had always swore he was never going to do and he did not regret it. The longer Peter laid on that roof the more solid that thought became. In every iteration of that event, in every one of the fourteen billion options, Peter would have killed that man for what he did. He would have killed him because he threatened to take away the closest thing to a dad he had left. Peter could never have let that happen. But in doing that, in protecting his dad, he had proven himself to be broken and a boy as broken as him did not deserve to have a father in his life.

So he laid on the roof, tears tracking down his cheeks and into his ears. He cried as he mourned the loss of another father but he could not keep the slight smile from peaking through at the fact that at least this time. This one time. He had managed to save him. He had managed to save Mr. Stark. The man was alive, and would stay alive, because Peter had killed and that made it all worth it. It did not make it easy but it made the pain survivable.

Peter was not sure how long he sat on the roof but it was dark by the time he swung away. He absentmindedly tried to remember if he had closed his bedroom door so that he could get away with sneaking back into the apartment without May knowing. Shrugging he realized he would just have to figure it out when he got there.

Softly crawling up the side of the building like he had done a hundred times before, Peter carefully and quietly snuck into his room, sighing when he realized that at least the door was closed. It was late enough that May probably just thought he was asleep. She had been giving him some space after he kind of told her what happened with Mr. Stark. She knew he was still Spider-man but he could not bring himself to tell her much about it. He knew he had been moody and he had tried so hard not to let it affect the way he talked to her but he knew he slipped, often. The worst part was that he could not tell her he had killed someone, he would not survive if he lost her too. And as much as he wanted to tell himself that it would not matter, that she would understand, after what she had been through, he would not blame her if she found out and looked at him differently. Left him. So he just did not say anything. He did not realize his mind was wandering though until he tripped over one of the stacks of books he for some reason kept leaving on the floor. A web kept him upright but the two precariously placed mugs were not so lucky. The clattering was enough to make him flinch, especially when he heard Aunt May's voice from the living room, "Peter? Are you up?"

Dammit, he cursed his distracted clumsiness. "I'm up, Aunt May."

"Honey, can you come out here for a minute?" Her voice was gentle but loud enough for him to hear.

"Yah, I'll be right out." He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep but knew he should go out. Wincing as he pulled a worn hoodie over his shirt and tugged on a pair of sweatpants, he dragged his door open and turned toward the couch. Then he froze mid-stride. His heart jumped into his throat, "Mr. – Mr. Stark?" He had a flashback to the last time Tony Stark sat on his couch only this time there was serious anxiety building in his stomach.

"Hey, kid." Tony nearly stammered. He was two days out of the med bay and to be honest, he was not sure if he was two days out because they got sick of him or because he really was okay to leave. Either way, as soon as May called, he knew he had to do something. No one at the complex could tell him why he had not seen the kid and there had been a small knot in the pit of his stomach since Bruce told him Peter would not probably not be coming back. Not to mention the fact the kid had been dodging his calls. So when May called, that was what he needed. He figured this was his chance to get this sorted out.

Peter looked Mr. Stark over and his stomach rolled at what he saw. Mr. Stark's cheekbones were still swollen and the black smudges surrounding his eyes had not gone away either. Peter had to swallow the bile that tinged the back of his tongue because he knew the injuries covered by the shirt and jacket haphazardly pulled over his casted arm. And just to make it worse, Mr. Stark stood, good arm draped over a crutch that kept him upright and off his mangled leg.

"Pete, can we talk?" His voice was tired and guilt joined the twirling mass of anxiety when Peter realized some of that was probably his fault.

Peter nodded numbly, unable to say no without giving an explanation. He just turned toward his room.

Tony followed, shooting May a glance of worry and apology before awkwardly shuffling over the threshold and closing the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Tony started, "Pete, what the hell is going on with you? You're yelling at your aunt, being more reckless than normal. You're not answering anyone's calls, not even mine for that matter. I didn't even know that Karen was able to ignore my calls." His hand twitched up on the crutch as he refocused himself, "I haven't seen or heard from you in weeks…" But he trailed off there feeling embarrassment growing at the quick turn from anger to attachment in his voice, sure he loved the kid but he did not need to sound pathetic about it.

The first thing Peter heard was the man's words echoing through his head, He doesn't care about you. And Peter was not able to fight it off anymore, he was just so tired and his mind was muddled. Seeing Mr. Stark again threw him off and he responded in quiet, long-simmering pain and anger before being able to stop himself, "Like you care."

But Mr. Stark flinched at his tone, a look ghosting over his face like Peter had slapped him. Swallowing hard at the reaction, Peter was able to reign the anger back in, he knew it was not Mr. Stark's fault and cursed himself for letting that man get to him.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn't have said that." He shook his head trying to clear it.

But Tony spoke again, his voice calmer than before, "What's going on, kid?"

Peter looked up at him with watery eyes, "Its just…I can't be at the compound anymore, Mr. Stark. I can't be a superhero. I can help people when I know they need it and I don't want to give up Spider-man but I just…I can't be a superhero."

Tony scrunched his face in confusion, trying to understand what the hell had happened to his kid, still he could not keep the unconvinced and sarcastic response off his tongue, "Kid, that makes no sense. And I'm still on some pretty heavy painkillers."

Peter huffed and slumped down on his bed, well aware that what he said made no sense but he could not un-think it. He was just so tired and sore, and he wanted to go to sleep, why couldn't Mr. Stark understand that?

When he did not say anything, Tony took that as an invitation to sit down next to him and sling his one good arm around the kid's shoulders. Peter flinched at the contact and Tony dropped his arm, using it to lever himself a few inches away from the kid. Disappointment flashing through his mind at the reaction. But he forced himself to focus on Peter. He could see how haggard the kid was. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to make Tony think that someone had punched him and there were a few cuts and bruises across his face, probably a result of his less than focused patrols. Even for the few seconds he had his arm across the kid's shoulders, they were more pronounced, he was thinner than normal, thinner than he should be, especially for his metabolism. His kid was hurting for some reason and Tony needed to know why, needed to understand what was going on in his head so he could help him. He owed Peter at least that, owed him much more but Tony knew they needed to start somewhere. Resting his hand over the cast, Tony looked at him, lowered his voice, and tried again, "Kid. Pete, what's going on with you?"

Finally the dam that Peter had spent more than a month creating shattered into a thousand pieces. He was just so tired, sore, and full of self-loathing that he could not hide it anymore, not when he was faced by the very obviously caring reason why he was now suddenly okay with killing. Well not okay but more okay than he had been. He tried to fight the tears building in his eyes, scrubbed his arm across his face a few times before finally capitulating to the pressure that had been increasing in his mind since the instant his gloved fist broke another man's face into bone-sliver pieces. He felt the tears burn as they started to fall and missing the weight of Mr. Stark's arm, he ground out the one thought he had been dealing with, "I – I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." He sniffled, "I'm so-sorry I'm broken." And finally, all the pressure he had been dealing with collapsed on him and he started to sob.

Tony froze when Peter started to cry but it was more from his admission than anything else. But the freeze did not last long as Tony felt his heart break at whatever the kid was dealing with. He could not help himself as he slung his arm back across the kid's shoulders, only this time he did not flinch away.

The weight of Mr. Stark's arm was a welcome one but Peter did not want to collapse back into the man's arms. He did not deserve it. At the same time, it felt so nice to have someone, no just Mr. Stark, show they cared, even after hearing that. Involuntarily, he wrapped his arms around Mr. Stark's waist and twisted into his shoulder, the same way he had done after his nightmares at the compound. He momentarily froze when the arm around his back tightened, pulling him closer and he heard the Mr. Stark's voice rumble, "Pete, whatever you think you did, you are not broken."

"Yes, I am." Peter sobbed into his mentor's, thankfully functioning, chest.

"No, you're not." Tony argued, adamant that what Peter was saying was not true, unfortunately, his response was colored by his inescapable anger at not being able to fix Peter's pain.

Peter felt him tense when he said it and the irritation in his tone spurred some of Peter's own fury back to the surface. The kid pushed back off Tony's shoulder and slid away from him, off the bed. The tears were still falling but he was not sobbing anymore, the anger that May had warned Tony about, had taken over, "Yes I am!" Peter insisted, why couldn't Mr. Stark just understand that?

Tony pressed it though, his own voice rising, "Why? Why do you think that? What could you have done that warranted this?" He gestured furiously with his good arm while silently cursing his own injuries and weakness.

"Because I killed someone!" Peter could not stop it, it fell from his mouth before he could even think to press it back in.

Tony froze. Peter did not kill. Peter could not kill. No one had told him that Peter had killed someone and so his stupidly stuttered response did nothing to defuse the situation,"Wh-what?"

Peter snapped at him, "I killed a man."

"Why?" As soon as the word was passed his lips, Tony nearly bit his own tongue off to end the dumb responses.

But Peter needed that question, needed to voice the reasons why, which he did, loudly, "Because he had just had you beaten within an inch of your life! Because he threatened to kill you! Because he told me that he would just escape and when he did, he was going to keep going after you until he had what he wanted and you were dead! And that when he was done, he would do the same to May!" Peter's hands had curled into fists at his side as he screamed at the one person he needed desperately to understand. Mr. Stark did not say anything though, just sat there staring. And that freaked Peter out, the fact that Mr. Stark had nothing to say meant he was right about being broken, about not being worthy of having anyone care about him. So the kid continued his tirade, "He told me he was going to take you away from me and it terrified me…" Some of the anger deflated as he looked down at his shoes, "I couldn't let it happen, so I stopped him." He shrugged before he met Tony's eye with a steely, scary determination, "And I don't feel guilty about it."

It was so pragmatic, so unlike Peter that the tone alarmed Tony. Still, there was a big part of him that understood exactly what was going through Peter's head, he had dealt with it himself in a not so healthy way the first time he had been confronted with what could be considered murder if the perspectives were flipped. Tony levered himself into a standing position and hobbled toward the kid. As soon as he got within a few feet, he balanced himself and reached out over the crutch carefully in a placating way, but did not touch the kid, "Pete, it's okay. It's going to be okay." He tried to force some his voice into something comforting and calm.

But that was not the right thing to say. Peter scooted back from him a bit more, "No, its not. It's not just going to be okay, Mr. Stark. I did the one thing I swore I was never going to do and I don't feel bad about it, there is no way that can be okay." The ire had boiled away and he sighed instead, resigned to his new self-imposed fate.

Only that angered Tony, it pissed him off that something had made his kid feel like he was not good enough, "Peter, we have all killed someone to protect someone else. You have to accept that, kid."

"No I don't! You did not see your uncle killed in front of you after losing your parents in a plane crash. You don't know what that feels like. To have people who care about you suddenly ripped away when there is nothing you can do about it!" He was shaking, angry at Mr. Stark for not understanding how terrible he was, how terrible the situation was. He had to make him understand. He opened his mouth to speak again when Mr. Stark growled at him.

Tony saw red at that comment and his voice was low but dangerous when he cut the kid off, "I lost my parents. I know how it feels."

Peter started at that, of course he knew that. But he was angry and guilt-ridden so he plowed right through, "Yah well, I promised myself I would not take that away from anyone else and then I did. What if he had a family? What if he had a son? Yah, he was evil but what if because of me, that kid has to deal with the same thing I've dealt with my whole life?" At some point, the anger disappeared and Peter just stood there, hands clenched and tears running down his face, silently and unconsciously begging for the torment to stop.

Tony immediately regretted his comment and tried to apologize for it but he did not know what else to say, he wanted so badly to just hug the kid and tell him that it was alright but that would not help. Instead, as he stood there staring at his shaking, crying kid, a thought wormed its way into his mind, a question that needed to be answered, "Pete, if that's the case, why don't you feel guilty about killing him?"

Peter looked at him, the weight of the world apparent in his eyes. He knew the answer to the question but was wrestling with how you tell someone you love them without knowing if it was reciprocated. Peter knew Tony cared about him, that was obvious, but there was a difference between caring about someone and being their father. Swallowing hard, Peter answered because he was so tired and he just wanted Tony to leave, but the answer was quieter and more fatalistic than he wanted, "I couldn't lose another dad." He scrunched his face at the explanation, hating how weak it sounded but it was true so he continued, "It was okay once I knew you were going to be survive because that made what I did worth it but it also made it hard to face what I had done. It made it hard to face you. I told you, Mr. Stark, I'm broken." Tears started to track down his face again as he looked at Tony but he did not sob, just stood there, shoulders back as if he was bracing for Tony to leave.

"Peter…" But then he paused, not for the first time with this kid, he had nothing to say. No quip, no joke, not even an "I'm sorry kid but I really appreciate you saving my life", nothing. His heart had seized when Peter said "dad", it had been unspoken for so long that to hear it wrenched out of him right now, it just felt so wrong. So he stood there in silence, the kid's name hanging in the air like a whispered condemnation. And Peter noticed, of course he did.

"See you can't even think of anything to say," he snapped, the anger inflating again as a defense against the rejection he was seeing. Rejection of what he had just shared.

Unfortunately for a man who never really learned how to deal with emotions, that pissed Tony off, again, "What do you want me to tell you, kid? You made a choice. I'm personally, selfishly glad you made the one you did because, you know, I'm still breathing." He knew flippant was not the right way to go, knew it, but he could not help it.

And as soon as Peter fixed him with a odd look of crestfallen and pissed, he sighed heavily and desperately tried to walk it back, "Look Peter, all I'm trying so horribly to say is that I'm sorry." Yah, that was a good start. "I'm sorry you had to make that choice. And I am incredibly, irrevocably sorry that you had to make it because of me. But damn kid, I need you to know that if it had been you, if I had found them beating you like that, I would have blown them all to hell and brought them back to do it again." So maybe the ending needed some work but Tony needed Peter to know what he would have done was so much worse.

Peter was not sure why but it made him feel a little better to hear that, it did not make it okay but it was comforting to know that at least he was not completely off base and the honesty in Tony's tone went a long way. But that did not change the fact that Tony would leave, Peter was still broken. But at least he would be able to walk away, the small voice in the back of his head that sounded kind of like Karen piped up.

Tony seemed to sense his torment because he was not done yet, "You're not broken, Peter, you're not. You're hurting and you're confused but you're not broken. You're still going out, you're still helping people and that means you are still you. How many people have you killed since?" The question was harsher than what he wanted but the point needed to be made.

Peter met him with those tear-filled eyes and he again wanted to retract the question but it needed an answer. Peter choked one out, "No one."

Tony took a hobbled hop forward until he closed the gap between them, close enough to touch Peter but he did not, he wanted him to understand first, "Exactly. You are not going to stop being you because you made one choice. Look at me, I've made thousands of horrendously terrible choices but I've learned. I've learned how to become better and you will continue to become better than you already are. You cannot let one horrible, worthless person take that away from you. Although I guess the fact that you are so upset about the scum of the earth, makes you better than the majority of people to begin with." Tony sighed and forced his way back to his point, "Peter, I need you to know that I am so proud of you, this does not in any way change that."

"You're not going to leave?" The whispered question was almost enough to make Tony lunge forward regardless of his injuries. But he did not, he took that final step and reached out to tug on Peter's arm and pull his kid into a hug.

Peter did not resist and let himself be pulled forward into the awkward, one casted hug.

Then Tony whispered the one thing he needed to hear, "I'm not going anywhere, kid. Not for a long time."

Peter let out a heavy breath he did not even know he had been holding and relaxed into the hug, "Thanks Mr. Stark."

Tony released the pressure on his back for a moment and he looked Pete in the eye, "You know you don't have to call me 'Mr. Stark'?"

"Yah I do." He said, smiling up at the man before ducking back into his shoulder.

In that instant, Tony finally got it. Peter could not call him dad. Richard Parker was his father. He could not bring himself to replace him. His uncle had the same honor but it had been expressed in the way he had known him first. For Peter, Tony would always be Mr. Stark. It was his way of honoring his father while still allowing for someone else to fill the role. The term that had started out as one of respect had become one that defined their relationship, the same way 'kid' did for him. Tony pulled his arms tighter around Peter and held him tight.

After a few minutes though, Tony could feel the weakness pressing on the back of his mind, he was still not at hundred percent. Hell he was not really at thirty. Loosening his hold on his kid, he could not help but wince as Peter held on for just a bit longer, "Pete, I…uh…I need to sit down."

Peter could hear the exhaustion in Mr. Stark's voice and he mentally kicked himself for making him stand, "Of course, I'm sorry." And he turned in his arms, putting himself under Mr. Stark's good arm and leading him over to the bed. It took a little maneuvering but Peter managed to get Mr. Stark leaned against the wood of the bunk bed before helping him stretch his broken leg onto a pillow he pulled from the top bunk. He propped the crutch against the wall so it would be easy to grab. As soon as he got him situated, Peter crawled into the bottom bunk from the opposite side and leaned against the back wall.

Tony could not help but close his eyes against the pain as Peter set about getting everything situated. He wanted to help but he just needed a second to close his eyes. Then he felt a weight on the mattress as the kid settled in next to him. Apparently he had closed his eyes for longer than a second but Peter's quiet voice forced Tony's senses to focus, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked over at him, "No, I'm alright, kid. Just needed to sit down for a minute. God I sound so old."

They sat shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence, both trying to muddle through the interaction that had just taken place, when Tony spoke up, "Pete, what made you think I was going to leave?"

Peter sighed not wanted to rehash what the man had said but realized he owed Mr. Stark an explanation, "I assumed that you would not want someone who was broken on the Avengers. And so when I started thinking about what the man kept telling me," he paused at Mr. Stark's confused expression, looking down before explaining, "he said you did not actually care about me, just about my abilities." When he looked up at the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face, he felt his cheeks go red, but he continued, "I just, the more I thought about what had happened, I just could not help but listen to him."

Anger bubbled up in Tony's chest again at what that bastard had been able to do with just a little time and for a moment he wished Peter had not killed him because he would have gladly done it. But that was not helpful. Tony nudged Peter's leg with his casted arm, forcing the kid to look back at him, "Peter I care about you. I know I'm really bad at saying it," he paused, "and showing it, but I do." He choked out the next words, hating how awkward they sounded because of how little he said it, "I will do anything I can to protect you not because of what you can do but because of who you are. You're a good kid, Pete."

It could not have been that bad though because Peter smiled up at him, the blush disappearing from his cheeks, "Really?" That insecurity again, they really would need to talk about that.

"Yah, kid, really."

Peter turned and hugged him. Tony returned the gesture and when Peter pulled back, he left his casted arm around the kid's shoulders. Peter leaned into him, resting lightly against Tony's shoulder, careful of his injuries. Tony just watched him, Peter always was a bit more open about contact than he was but this was not so bad. Tony could deal.

They sat there for a bit longer. Tony was trying to come up with a way to help the kid because he might have assuaged some of the pain for the moment but it was not going away soon. Then it hit him. Craning his neck, Tony gave him his idea, "Pete, you should really talk to Sam about all this. He'll be able to help you deal with what happened."

"Who?" Peter scrunched up his face and tried to remember if he had met a Sam before, it sounded familiar but he could not place it.

Tony mentally kicked himself, of course the kid did not know who Sam was, so he used his made-up name, "Falcon."

Him Peter knew and he filed his name away for later before asking, "Why him?" He quickly squashed the irrational thought that Mr. Stark was pawning him off on someone else.

"Before he was Cap's Rhodey he was a therapist for military service members who were coming back and trying to get readjusted to civilian life. Its not exactly the same thing, but I bet he would be able to help you sort through some of this." Peter looked up at him with those big brown eyes and Tony saw the flash of worry there, quickly adding, "I'm not trying to pawn you off Pete, I just think you need to talk to someone who will actually be able to help you. I told you I'm not going anywhere, I just think you should talk to someone who has training to actually help you move passed this." Just for good measure, Tony squeezed his shoulder again and Peter looked up.

For the first time in a while Peter felt some relief from the crushing guilt. For the first time there was some plan, some option he could take. He whispered into Mr. Stark's shoulder, "Maybe I should."

Tony sighed at the relief he saw on the kid's face, he would do whatever he could to help, "He'll be back at the compound in a few days, I'll let him know that you'll be stopping by." Tony could not help the smile when the kid did not reject the idea of going back to the complex.

Peter just nodded into his shoulder. Then the kid thought of something as he watched Mr. Stark's increasingly hooded eyes, "Mr. Stark, how did you get up here? The elevator's been broken for a few weeks."

"I walked?" Was the confused answer.

Peter realized he should probably explain himself a bit better but he just ended up with a question, "Up seven flights of stairs?"

Tony's confusion at where the kid was going with this grew and he could not keep the playful indignation out of his tone, "Yah, I told Happy to wait outside and I hobbled my way up the steps, I'm not that old, Pete."

Then Peter found the right words, "I – uh – I was just wondering how you are going to get back downstairs if standing hurts right now."
"Huh," the defensiveness was gone from his voice, "I hadn't actually considered that."

Peter sat up, "Let me talk to Aunt May. I'm sure she won't mind if you stay here tonight, that way you can get down to the car tomorrow morning."

He stood, careful not to jostle Mr. Stark, but stopped just shy of the door and turned around to face his mentor, "Thank you Mr. Stark, for everything."

Tony looked at the kid's face, so much brighter already, "Anytime, Pete. And thank you for saving me."

Peter smiled a shy half-smile before stepping out into the other room.

It did not take Peter long to get everything figured out. May was fine with it. Happy groaned a bit but still slapped Peter on the shoulder before getting back into the car. And Peter volunteered to take the couch so Mr. Stark could have his bed. It probably was not as comfortable as what he was used to but at least it was better than the lumpy cushions. The man was out in minutes anyway, snoring softly against the well-worn pillow case. Peter laid awake for a little longer trying to get his mind around what had happened. He had still killed someone, that was true but he reminded himself that it could not define him, told himself it would not define him. Mr. Stark had told him that he would be okay and he wanted so badly to believe him. So he did. He would talk to Sam and try to get back some of the control that man had somehow managed to take away.

And for the first time in nearly a month, Peter managed to sleep soundly.

Well that's it, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope everyone was not too OOC!

Let me know what you thought and I hope you have a wonderful day!

-Lily