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Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a normal mission.

A safe mission, Tony had called it. A training mission, because even though Peter had been an official member of the Avengers for a year his mentor tended to forget that fact and baby him like he was still fifteen years old. Tony would argue that seventeen really wasn't that far off fifteen, and he hadn't been a member for quite a year yet, and he still wasn't responsible enough to have access to every setting programed into his webshooters, but still. He was stronger than ever, and he was a good fighter! He could handle himself in a fight.

…Which he was currently proving, despite Tony's protests.

"Kid, how many times do I have to ask you to stay behind us? You're backup for a reason; you're supposed to keep your distance and web them up!"

Peter delivered a flying kick to one of the HYDRA goons, using some of those hand-to-hand skills Black Widow had taught him to lay the guy out. A quick turn had him dodging another man, coming up behind him with a fist cocked back (as if that would be enough to take down Spider-Man). He webbed his assailant to the ground and leapt up onto the adjacent wall before he could be ambushed, as two more came out of nowhere with guns that he had to quickly snatch up for fear of being shot.

The joys of attacking a HYDRA compound.

"Kid," Tony said again, sounding a mixture of exasperated and furious. "Get back here or you're grounded, do you hear me?"

Peter sent the two goons sprawling, swathed in webbing, and started the climb to the top of the building. "I have them, Mr. Stark, I can handle this! We've fought HYDRA before and—"

"This is a compound, not some rinky-dink base in a Queens warehouse! It's dangerous!"

There was a crackle through the coms on Steve's end, then an amused, "Cut the kid some slack, Tony. We've been working forever to track this place down; we're all excited to have this over and done with!"

"It'll only be over and done with if none of us die as we tear this place to the ground," Tony grumbled. "Speaking of which, can we get started on the 'tearing' thing? So far all I've seen is a lot of fighting, and a lot of blood."

Natasha's voice fizzed to life, the signal poor enough in such a remote part of Germany that it was hard to understand her. "We have to get inside first."

There was more to the conversation after that, but Peter had reached the top of the compound and was in the midst of looking for a way in. The place was huge, all the entrances guarded heavily, but the roof was understaffed. Clint's arrows had already picked off most of the gunners, and all Peter had to do was shoot a few well-placed web grenades to pin the rest to the rooftop. Tony was overreacting, he was totally fine! He hadn't sustained so much as a scratch, and he'd cleared the roof.

"Karen," Peter said, "are there any structural weak points on the roof?"

"Peter, the entire structure is made of concrete. I doubt you will be able to break it, not even with your enhanced strength. I advise returning to the ground and doing as Mr. Stark ordered."

"Well you're no fun," he pouted. Then, through the coms, "The roof is clear!"

"Nice work," Cap said, just as Tony bit out, "Get back down here!"

"I'm fine! Really, Mr. Stark, this isn't a big deal!"

"HYDRA is a big deal!"

Peter stepped to the edge of the rooftop, mindful of the gunfire below, and started picking off all the HYDRA agents in sight. He wasn't as accurate as Hawkeye, but he did manage to catch someone as they went for Steve's unprotected back, so he considered that a win.

"Thanks for that one, kid!"

"Don't praise him when he's disobeying me!"

The coms fizzed out as the gunfire grew more intense, and Peter turned his attention on webbing up as many gunners as possible. Clint, perched on top of an adjacent watchtower, picked off those that Peter couldn't as the rest of the Avengers fought on the ground. They were trying and failing to get to the main entrance, which was about as heavily fortified as anything Peter had ever seen. They didn't even know why it was so heavily guarded—there was probably some big secret weapon or something in the basement, true to form, but they didn't know just yet. All they knew was that this compound was massive, had managed to stay off their radar for months, and now that they were here they weren't going to leave without taking everyone down.

Woah! Peter threw himself to one side as someone finally looked up and saw him, firing in his direction. He hit the ground, rolled, and was relieved to hear Karen tell him that no, he hadn't just been shot, though it had been a little too close for comfort.

"Peter!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!"

"Fine my ass," Tony grumbled. "Cap, we're ending this now. Peter, you're on the ground in five seconds or you're done for the next month."

He gulped. That was Tony's or else voice, and he'd never liked what was on the other end. He stepped off the edge of the building, trusting Hawkeye to snipe anyone aiming for him on the way down. A burst of web caught him, then he was rolling and standing up to the sight of Tony Stark, in all of his iron-suited glory, cutting through the remaining HYDRA agents like they were nothing. It was hard not to be in awe, even after nearly a year of being his…uh, apprentice? Protégé?

"Kid, get behind me! You're not bulletproof!"

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

Cap's shield went flying, knocking out a few more goons. Tony's suit emitted blast after blast. Clint, from his perch high above the battlefield, picked off those that were attempting to escape. Natasha cracked skulls left and right. And Peter—

Peter stood behind Iron Man and watched it happen. He wasn't useless, he knew that. He was strong and smart and capable. But sometimes, placed against the backdrop of the other Avengers…

But that was ridiculous. He knew that. Hell, Clint and Natasha didn't even have powers!

Yeah, but they're highly trained assassins. You're a seventeen-year-old kid.

The last agent went down in a spray of blood, and then it was done. "All clear," came Tony's slightly mechanized voice. "At least, all clear until we get inside. No telling what kinds of crazy this place is hiding."

Peter shook off his momentary lapse and straightened, reaching to replace the cartridges in his webshooters. The rest of the Avengers were already drawing close, ready to force their way into the heavily reinforced doors.

"I'll take point," Cap said as they reached the door. He placed his hands on the steel, took a moment to consider the task, then beat the doors down with a few sharp blows.

So much for reinforced.

Natasha raised a brow when the doors crumpled and they weren't immediately attacked. "No guards?"

"They might be in the lower levels," Steve suggested. "We should split up—Natasha, you're with Clint. Tony, take the kid. I'll go alone."

Peter couldn't help the stab of indignation at Cap's words. He was being babysat again. He was enhanced! He had powers! He could hold his own against these guys!

Tony seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "Better to have someone to watch your back, right, kid?" He elbowed him, which actually hurt a little through the armor. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The compound was huge and dark and cold. Peter had never been inside a real HYDRA compound, only a few smaller, makeshift bases, and he found he didn't like the place much. He had a feeling they were going in the wrong direction, anyway, because there weren't many guards around. Those few that did appear were quickly dispatched by either a blast from Tony's armor or a few hits from Peter's webshooters.

"I bet Cap is dealing with all the real action," Peter huffed, walking on the ceiling just to give himself something to do. If he had a rubber ball he'd probably be throwing it around just like in all the prison movies.

"That's a good thing," Tony said, keeping his hands raised in case of an ambush. His footsteps were heavy and metallic, resonating throughout the corridor, so stealth wasn't exactly an option. "He'll take care of things and radio us once he finds whatever is being kept here."

"Think it's like, a weapon of mass destruction?"

"Wouldn't put it past them."

Peter shivered, because that had been mostly meant as a joke but now it didn't really seem that funny. He dropped back to the ground and peered around the next corner. "Uh, Mr. Stark?"

"What is it, kid?"

He pointed. Tony drew up behind him, taking the corner, and froze.

That…was not like anything he'd ever seen before.

"What is it?" Peter whispered, taking a step forward.

"Kid, wait!" Tony's hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back. "Let me go first."

Peter stared with wide eyes down the corridor, this barely illuminated passageway terminating in a strange light. He'd only ever seen pictures of the tesseract in history books, but…he thought that light strangely resembled it. Maybe Tony was thinking the same thing, because he was suddenly very tense.

"Stay here," Tony ordered, and Peter was too nervous to argue. Whatever that light was, it didn't look earthly. Or safe. Or friendly. Tony started off down the corridor, and Peter watched.

"Do you think it's related to that tesseract thing?" Peter whispered, Tony's slow, careful steps drawing closer and closer to the unidentified object.

Tony gave a light shake of the head. "Not sure, kid. That's what we're here to find out."

"I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? If they were trying so hard to protect whatever that thing is…"

Tony took another step. "Hey, think it's safe to grab?"

"Wha—Mr. Stark, no—!"

"Calm down, kid, I'm only joking." He cleared his throat and said, "FRIDAY, dispatch a containment unit."

Peter didn't hear the answer, but he assumed it had been in the affirmative when Tony was suddenly holding one of those weird vibranium orbs that he only used on really scary things. Things he wasn't sure weren't about to blow up everything within a hundred square miles.

"It just looks like light," Tony observed as he reached out. "I can't tell if there's a physical substance, but the energy coming off this thing…"

"See if you can get it in the containment orb," Peter said, as if that wasn't what was happening right in front of him. The light was just so warm and blue and beautiful…he wanted to touch it.

Except that turned out to be a really bad idea, because the instant Tony grabbed at it with the casing of the orb, the whole corridor made this dark, ominous grinding noise. The floor rumbled.

"Uh, Mr. Stark—?"

Tony caught on a moment before he did. "Grab the wall!"

"What?" But he didn't get any farther than that before the noise culminated in movement, and the ground suddenly vanished beneath his feet. Grab the wall, Tony had said—and now he understood why, as Tony caught himself with his thrusters and Peter fell because he was a huge idiot that hadn't just done what his mentor had asked.

"Peter—!"

He shot at the ceiling with his webshooters to catch himself and—missed?

Ohhh no—he hadn't missed, the cartridge wasn't inserted correctly! And by the time he reached with the other shooter, ready to stop himself from crashing into whatever spike pit was inevitably located at the bottom of the trap, it was too late.

He choked in shock as his back hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of him. A hand flailed to his chest, searching for the spikes that definitely impaled him, but he came away with nothing. He…was okay? There weren't spikes?

Stunned, he rolled onto his side and planted a hand on the ground beneath him. It splashed, and he frowned. Water? He'd just landed in water? But no, it was way too viscous to be water. It wasn't…blood, then, was it?

Oh god, oh god, oh god—Mr. Stark!

"Kid!" came the familiar voice, sounding a fair amount more panicked than usual. "Peter, can you hear me?"

Blue light approached, and Peter pushed himself into a sitting position. Fluid dripped off him in thick, sticky rivulets, and he cringed. What was this stuff?

The blue light stopped about a foot off the ground, hovering. "Geez, kid," Tony said, relieved. "You're gonna make me go gray! You have to stop falling down pits like this."

"One other time," Peter managed, still trying to regain his breath. "And that was an accident, Mr. Stark, you know that!"

"Yeah, yeah…" Tony reached for him, then cringed. "What is that stuff?"

"I was hoping you could tell me…?"

"Looks like motor oil. Was the point to make you so slippery that you couldn't climb back out?"

Peter squished the stuff between his fingers. "Not sure…it feels weird, though."

"Not poison?" Tony asked, slightly alarmed. "Do you feel funny? FRIDAY, read me his vitals!"

"I'm fine," Peter insisted over the drone of the AI's voice. He staggered to his feet, shook off some of the oil (if that's what it was), and smiled from behind the mask. "Obviously that was just supposed to distract us, so we should get going."

"Not while you look like you've taken a swim in a gallon of oil, kid. Tell Karen to activate cleaning protocol twelve-B."

"Okay, uh…Karen…?"

"Already on it, Peter."

The suit kind of pulsed around him, and then the fluid was sliding off the suit like it had never been there. "Woah, it's like…like feathers, or something!"

"Very perceptive. Give me your hand."

"I've got it!" Peter reached down and fixed the jostled cartridge, then fired a web at the ceiling. This time it worked. "See? Gosh, that was dumb. Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

"Well if the worst thing that happens here is that you get coated with oil, I'd say the mission was a success." Tony fired the thrusters on his boots, lifting himself back up to ground level and waiting for Peter to climb up. "Though it does look like it seeped through the suit a little…I'll have to refine the cleaning procedures."

Peter frowned at his chest, where he could feel oil against his skin. "It's fine. Let's just find Cap or something. Maybe he's found what HYDRA was trying to hide in here."

Tony gave a nod, though there was still a hint of concern there. "Maybe he has. Either way we should go back; we've kind of hit a dead end here."

"Ooh, think there'll be more bad guys the other way?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Cap will have taken care of them, so no more fighting. Got it?"

Peter made a show of looking upset and said, "Yeah, okay…"

Tony just rolled his eyes, hid a smile, and turned back toward the hallway that had led them to the light (which was gone now, seeing as it had been nothing but bait). Tony led the way. And Peter, trailing close behind, couldn't stop running his fingers over his chest. He could feel the oil squishing beneath the fabric. It felt weird and intrusive and kind of tingly. It was nothing, though. It was totally fine.

Right?

"Chin up, kid," Tony said. "We have a job to do."

He drew his fingers away from his chest, shook his head, and focused.

Two hours later, the mission was over. Cap kicked his way into the basement and took out the last of the HYDRA goons, radioed the others to join him, and held down the fort while they arrived. And of course Peter didn't even get to see what was inside the creepy secret basement because Tony sent him to guard the entrance to the compound. Of course, guard was a relative term, because by this point S.H.I.E.L.D was there and doing most of the guarding. Mostly Peter was just supposed to stand to one side and let them handle things, because he was too young to see whatever crazy contraptions were in the basement.

He was too young to handle a lot of things, apparently.

"Time to get going, kid! This place is locked down tight."

Peter gave a distracted nod as Tony appeared, finally out of the suit, with the rest of the Avengers in tow.

Tony's hand landed on his shoulder. "You okay, Pete? Still out of breath?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically. There was still oil squishing between the suit and his chest, but it wasn't a big deal. He'd wash it off when they got back to base. "What was in the basement?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Steve answered. "We've taken care of it, so you can head back to base with Nat and Clint while we finish up the paperwork."

"Paperwork," Peter snorted. "Yeah, right."

Cap flashed him a smile and said, "Trust me, Spider-Man, you'll miss being the youngest Avenger once you have to deal with the politics behind taking out a group of Nazis."

"Not that there should be any politics there," Tony threw in. "Anyone proud to call themselves a Nazi should be ready to stare down Cap's star-spangled shield, regardless of what Ross would have you believe."

Steve shot him a glance. "Right. Anyway, you should head on back to the base. We'll meet you there once we've wrapped things up."

There was no point in arguing. Plus Peter was kind of tired, and he didn't really care about the politics that always happened after the battle, so he decided against arguing. Nat and Clint passed, the former giving him a pat on the back to get him moving, and then they were off.

The whole plane ride back to the compound Peter fidgeted, hand held firm over his chest, and he wasn't quite sure why.

Chapter Text

The next day was lazy, as were most days following missions. Tony and Steve got back to the compound around five in the morning, and Peter found them passed out on the couch when he pried himself out of bed and stumbled into the common room. Why they couldn't have waited until they reached their rooms, he didn't know.

"Good morning, Peter," came a cheerful voice from the kitchen. "You're up late, though not as late as some heroes I know."

He glanced over at the occupied sofa, smiled, and stepped further into the kitchen. "Morning, Ms. Potts," he greeted. "I hope it's not too late, I wanted to work on my suit before getting dragged into some dumb mission report meeting." It was actually kind of a rarity to see Pepper like this—she spent most of her time off handling Tony's blunders with the media, and Peter was pretty sure that she was leaving on some kind of business trip that night.

"I'm sure Ross will understand that all of you need a day to rest," Pepper said with a smile. "And I'm also sure that Tony will be able to fix your suit as soon as he wakes up. Did you damage it in the fight?"

"No, no, it's…" Peter trailed off, not quite sure how to explain. "There's like this huge black stain on the inside of it from where I fell into a pit of dark stuff. Mr. Stark thought it was some kind of motor oil."

Pepper hummed, brow furrowed. "Well in that case he can give you another model while he hones his laundering skills." She brandished a frying pan, continuing, "I'm making eggs. Want some?"

"Sure," he said absent-mindedly. His hand rose to his chest almost as if on instinct, rubbing at his shirt. He'd taken off the suit the previous night and found exactly what he'd expected—a blob of that oily fluid right across his chest. It had stained the suit from the inside, and when he'd taken a shower the stuff didn't really want to come off of his skin. He scraped as much as he could down the drain, scrubbed at his skin to get rid of the rest, and was dismayed to see a large, bruise-like stain left behind. The thing was the size of a baseball, blotchy and uneven and tender from all the scrubbing, positioned dead center on his chest. He figured that the first few layers of skin were probably stained, and nothing more. It'd go away in a few days.

"What's the plan for today?" Pepper asked. "Other than fixing your suit, I mean. Do you have schoolwork?"

He shook his head. "No, summer vacation just started. I don't have to worry about school for like, three months."

"So you'll be going on all of Tony's missions," she sighed. "Please stay safe, Peter. I've seen firsthand what these things can do to a person."

He swiped a few fingers across his chest again. "I'll…I'll be fine, Ms. Potts. Tony's still treating me like a trainee, so there's not much trouble I can get myself into."

"You are a trainee," came a grumble from the couch. "Stupid kid, throwing himself at danger like a stripper throwing themself at—"

"Tony," Pepper interrupted, aghast. "He's seventeen. Let's save the stripper jokes for next year, okay? Or never? Never would also be acceptable."

The half-asleep hero gave a clumsy swipe of the hand, then settled back down. Peter hid a smile. He was remembering Tony's dumb comments about May during their first conversation, and thinking that Pepper didn't know the half of the things Tony had said in front of him. He never meant it, though. He had such a good heart. It was why he'd taken him in after May's accident.

"That man is going to be the death of me," Pepper sighed, cracking a few eggs into the frying pan and starting to cook.

Peter looked away. "He's not so bad."

"…No. No, he's not."

Footsteps in the doorway. Then a new voice, soft in consideration of the slumbering people on the couch. "There you are, Mr. Parker. Your presence has been requested in the combat room, along with whoever else is awake."

"He's eating, Vision," Pepper scolded. "Or at least, he will be."

"Training?" Peter guessed, already feeling the first sparks of excitement. He loved training with the Avengers. It made him feel useful, needed, and that was a lot more than he could say on their past few missions.

"Training," Vision confirmed. "And you have my apologies, Ms. Potts. I did not realize that you would be engaging in this activity at this time, as it is nearly noon."

"Thirty minutes," Peter promised as Pepper opened her mouth to refuse the offer for him under the pretense of needing to eat breakfast. "Tell her to start without me."

Vision gave a solemn nod (though when was anything he ever did not solemn?) and phased through the wall. Clearly Wanda's scolding wasn't helping him much with the concept of privacy.

"Food first," Pepper said, noticing how Peter was staring wistfully after the retreating hero. "Then training. And don't push yourself so hard after a battle!"

He smiled at her. "I'll be okay, Ms. Potts. Really."

She returned his smile with one of his own and passed him a plate of scrambled eggs. "Convince me."

Training went as well as it always did. He managed to pin Wanda (though it was only because she had prohibited herself from using her powers in training after a rather unfortunate incident in which she sent Sam flying into a wall), and he even gave Natasha a run for her money before she got a leg around his waist and flipped him.

"Good fight," she said afterward, picking him up and dusting him off. "You're getting better, Peter, you really are."

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Tell that to Mr. Stark."

Her expression went kind of soft and pained. "Tony cares about you. If he ever seems like he's overbearing, it's because he doesn't want you to end up like him."

"Like…him…?"

"Dead on the inside," Sam joked from where he was sitting against the wall, taking a break after being thrown by Natasha in an earlier match.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "He just doesn't want to see you hurt. You're only seventeen; you have your whole life in front of you. He doesn't want you to throw it away on this."

"On helping people," Peter clarified.

Natasha sighed, because they'd had this conversation before and they would have it again, and each time they ran each other in circles until someone stepped in to stop them.

"To put one's life at risk to save others is a great thing," Wanda said, stopping Natasha before she could even begin. "I do not believe anyone would say that what you are doing is wrong. Perhaps Stark believes that the issue is when you are choosing to throw yourself in front of the danger, rather than the fact that you are doing it at all."

"In other words…?"

"You're too young, kid," Sam said. "You should spend the summer with your friends from school and get better at fighting before you throw yourself into all our missions."

"But I—!"

Wanda flicked a finger in Sam's direction, and he yelped as a flicker of red pushed him onto his side. "It is noble of you to be here, Peter. I respect your presence."

As if nobility was ever the question. Mr. Stark trusted him, he knew that he did, but it wasn't the kind of trust that would let him go on real missions unsupervised. Everyone said he just had to wait and be patient, but he felt that he'd proven himself many times before.

"You'll get there," Natasha said, as if on cue. "Train and get stronger and listen to Tony, and you'll be a fully recognized member of the team in a few years."

Peter tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Right…a few years."

"And until then," Natasha carried on, "you've got your patrols. No one is going to stop you from Spider-ing around the city and keeping people safe."

Speaking of which, it would be time for him to head out soon. Training had taken all afternoon, and he liked to spend the sunset hours of the day patrolling. Granted his suit was still weirdly stained, so he'd have to wear a different one, but he'd rather be out in a different suit than in with nothing.

Natasha seemed to know what he was thinking. "You can leave if you like," she said. "I think we're just about done for the day."

"Like hell we're done!" Sam protested, scrambling to his feet. "I'm going to pin you today, Nat, so spar with me again!"

The corners of her mouth curved upward. "Right. We'll see you tomorrow, Peter."

So he left. He left and he washed up (and that bruise thing on his chest was still there, even with his enhanced healing, which was strange) and he pulled on another suit that was pretty much identical to the one that had gotten stained, and then he was off.

And it was okay. Patrolling was okay. He flew through the city streets outside the compound, catching criminals and stopping robberies and saving people, and he was useful and loved. Out here, he was powerful. He was strong.

Everything was fine. Or, everything was fine until it wasn't, and he landed hard on a building and staggered.

He paused, not quite sure what to make of it. His head…it had gone a bit light for a moment, a little fuzzy, and his footing had slipped. He blinked hard, once, twice, three times, and looked down at his hands. Clenched his fingers, just to see the way they curled.

You're fine, Parker, get it together. You just need something to drink, or a snack. You're fine. You're fine.

He took another step. When nothing happened he took another, then another, and then he was off again. The moment of dizziness had passed, and he was flying through the streets again.

When he got back to his room that night, he put himself in front of the bathroom mirror and gripped the edges of the sink. He…he felt warm. Not quite sick yet, but like he was getting there.

"Peter? Your temperature is elevated, and your heart rate is above normal parameters."

He shook his head. "Sorry, Karen, I…I'm not feeling too good."

"I would recommend the immediate removal of your mask. I will patch myself through the main coms so you can still hear me."

As if she even had to tell him; Tony had programmed her into Peter's room when he'd first moved in for the summer. He reached up and yanked off his mask.

Woah. His cheeks were really red. Maybe he was warmer than he'd thought.

"Your temperature is climbing. You haven't yet reached dangerous levels, but I would advise you to ingest a fever reducer and lay down for the evening."

That sounded really good, actually. "Thanks, Karen, I'll…" He swayed, the dizziness coming back on for just a moment. It passed, though, and then he was reaching for the medicine cabinet. "I'll do that," he finished softly. Tony had stocked the cabinet with all kinds of medicine (just another one of his overprotective practices, though this one was actually going to help him), and he grabbed for a fever reducer.

"Peter, you're swaying. Do I need to alert Mr. Stark?"

"I'm fine!" he said quickly. He downed the fever reducer and took a gulp of water from the tap. "I'm just going to sleep it off. Wake me before noon, okay?"

"Of course, Peter. Sleep well."

He crashed into bed and was out like a light.

"Peter, it is currently eleven fifty-nine in the morning. I must ask you to awaken."

Peter tugged the pillows up over his ears and groaned.

"Are you feeling well? Your temperature has fallen back into normal parameters, however I am unable to tell if you have a headache or an upset stomach."

He swiped his hand out as if to turn off an alarm clock, but of course Karen couldn't be deactivated by some easily accessible button at his bedside. "I'm fine," he murmured into his pillow, but it came out muffled.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

He lifted his head and groaned, "I'm fine, Karen."

"Your voice sounds scratchy. Do you have a cold?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Should I alert the others that you will be remaining in bed today?"

"I told you, I'm fine! I'm just a bit shaky, that's all." He sat up and took a moment to let the world resettle around him. His fever was gone, but his head still felt a bit fuzzy. Probably the exertion of the HYDRA raid followed by a vigorous training session and a patrol.

"Very well. Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the meeting room as soon as you rise."

"Right, right…did he say why?"

"Another mission. He'll fill you in on the details once you arrive."

Peter gave a bleary nod and swung his legs over the side of the bed. There was this tingly, jittery feeling in his limbs, and it made it just a little hard to stand up. Regardless, he made his way into the bathroom and stripped off his sweaty nightshirt.

He frowned. Turned, studying himself in the mirror.

The weird bruise was still there. Or, the stain? He wasn't sure what to call it. And…was it darker? He poked at it and winced when the motion sent a jolt of pain through him. It was probably just sore from the scrubbing. Even though that had been more than a day ago.

Why isn't my healing taking care of this? He ran his fingers over the mark, perplexed. It shouldn't have stained my skin for more than a few hours, right? Why is it still here?

He turned away from the mirror and reached for a clean shirt. Whatever it was, it should be gone soon enough. It was nothing.

"Kid!" Tony greeted when he finally slipped into the meeting room. The others were already there, looking stressed as ever, and Peter ducked his head and sat down as quickly as he could. "Where have you been? We have reports of more HYDRA agents in the area, and we have to take them out now before they escape back to whatever hole they climbed out of."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter muttered.

Tony shook his head, but he didn't really look mad. "Cap, as you were saying…?"

Steve shot Peter a sympathetic look, then continued with whatever he'd been saying before he'd been interrupted. "I don't think this is a big operation, just the result of a few stragglers trying to cause trouble. No need to send everyone in. I'm recommending Wanda and Clint for this one, and Peter as backup."

"Just them?" Natasha questioned with a raised brow. "Are there really so few of agents that we only need to send three of us?"

"It's only about stragglers judging by our reports," Steve said. "They're in a low-tech hideout, easy to infiltrate and take down. They can handle it."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. They were sending him out there alone? Or maybe not alone, but without Tony hovering over him and Cap shooting him these quick, worried glances, and without Natasha trying to throw him out of the way every five seconds? This was it, this was his chance! He could finally prove that he could operate against HYDRA without Tony there to back him up! He could do it!

His head throbbed, and he pinched at the bridge of his nose. Not now, not now! I'm okay, I have to do this! I can't tell them I don't feel well or they won't let me prove myself.

"Pete? You up for this?"

He gave a quick nod to hide his wince. "I've trained for this stuff, remember? And it's only five people; I bet any one of us could do it alone!"

"But you won't, because we're a team," Steve said. "Watch each other's backs, take them out, and collect whatever contraband they might be hiding in their makeshift base. I don't think there will be any, but take it if there is."

"We'll handle it," Clint said confidently.

Wanda gave a nod. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

Tony looked between the three of them, probably trying to figure out if this was a good idea. But evidently there was nothing he could say that wouldn't sound ridiculously overprotective, and so he settled for a simple, "Keep an eye on each other."

Or, keep an eye on the kid, he's useless and can't protect himself and needs a babysitter so he doesn't end up dead.

Startled, Peter stopped. Where had that thought come from? Sure, Tony's worrying was tiresome at times, but he knew he cared about him. He shouldn't be mad at him. Annoyed, sure. But…angry? Really, truly angry?

His head throbbed again.

"As long as you're all on board, you can move out. We don't know how long the HYDRA agents will be in the same place, and we want to catch them early."

"The jet is already waiting," Tony threw in. "Suit up, guys."

So that's what they did. They retreated back to their quarters for just long enough to change (Peter refused to look at himself in the mirror again, worried about what he might see), and then they were back and on the jet and ready to go.

"Be careful, kid," Tony told him in a low voice as he boarded. "This isn't a joke."

"I know it's not," Peter said, using all of his brainpower to keep himself from swaying. His head was still hurting, this dull, pounding throb, but he refused to let anyone know about it. He'd be okay.

He boarded the jet and they were off.

Chapter Text

There were exactly five HYDRA agents waiting for them.

"No guns," Clint reported from his position, perched on the roof of a nearby structure in the German countryside. "I have eyes on them."

"Any enhanced?" Wanda whispered, peering at the blurry shapes that made up the agents.

"Negative," Clint reported. "Kid, do you see anything I don't?"

Peter crept around the side of the building and looked. "No, they just look like normal people to me. Should be easy to take down."

"Then let's do this."

A burst of red flicked past Peter's head, and the HYDRA agents were suddenly very aware of their presence. They were stationed in a warehouse, some abandoned thing on the fringes of a farming town, which meant that they had plenty of room to maneuver. Luckily that meant that Peter didn't have to stand toe to toe with them in combat, because his head didn't really want him to stand at all right now. He webbed one of the agents' feet to the ground as Hawkeye put an arrow through his arm, keeping himself flying through the air. He didn't want to fight on the ground.

"I'll take the big one," Wanda said through the coms, drifting toward a particularly hulking goon. "Clint, will you take those two?"

"I'll get the third," Peter said when Clint answered in the affirmative. He singled out his target—a rather intimidating man with bulging muscles that were, quite frankly, a little obscene—and attacked.

Woah, his head hurt.

"Peter," Karen started, but he cut her off before she could get going.

"I'm fine! How many times do I have to say that, geez!"

Karen fell silent as Peter ducked around a punch from the goon, webbing one foot to the ground and going for the throat with a punch of his own. He felt a little lightheaded just from standing, but his strength more than made up for it. He nailed the guy in the throat and leapt back as he started to fall, webbing his arms to his sides and snatching the remaining weaponry off his belt before he could make use of it.

"All clear!" he called.

Wanda flicked her wrist and her opponent went flying. "All clear," she repeated. "Clint?"

Hawkeye raised his bow in emphasis. At his feet were two downed HYDRA agents. "All clear."

"Well that was easy," Peter said, even as his head spun. "I guess we know why Cap only sent the three of us."

"We're not done yet," Clint pointed out. "We have to go inside and make sure there's nothing else in there."

"Then let's go." Wanda raised a hand and the doors blew off the warehouse.

The inside was dark. Or at least, it was dark until Wanda sent out a flare of power and lit the whole place up.

"Woah," Peter whispered, looking at all the strange machinery and test tubes and bubbling beakers. It looked like something out of a movie. "What is this stuff?"

"Not safe to touch," was Wanda's gentle response. "Let's call this in."

As Clint reached for his earpiece with the intention of calling the compound, Peter walked closer to the test tubes. It looked like the agents had been in the middle of some kind of experiment, because the tubes were bubbling with weird chemicals.

"Don't touch, Peter!" Wanda called.

"I'm not!" He knelt down, putting himself at eye level with the tubes, and frowned. There were five of them, all in varying shades of gray, and he leaned in close to get a better look.

That last one…doesn't it look familiar?

Peter squinted. The last test tube was full of what looked like thick, viscous liquid. Black…like the pit of liquid he'd fallen into back at the HYDRA compound. Was it the same stuff? Why would they be experimenting with motor oil?

"Ross's guys are on their way," Clint reported. "We just have to hold down the fort until they show up."

Peter realized his hand was on his chest again. He quickly took it away.

"Well, at least the place is clear." Wanda turned back to the door as if waiting for someone to come charging in. "I wonder what they were doing."

"We'll know soon enough," Clint said. "Hey, kid—"

He felt it before he saw it. The back of his neck prickled like it always did when there was danger near, and this crushing wave of dizziness rushed over him.

"Peter!"

His vision went black. He was moving but didn't know how, didn't understand what was happening. His head. It was pounding. And by the time it stopped, by the time he regained his senses, it was over.

Clint's eyes were wide. "Kid…" he whispered.

Peter blinked in confusion. Then he looked down and saw the HYDRA agent that had just tried to kill him, and he was even more confused. The agent was decimated. There was blood gushing from his nose and mouth. His arm was cocked at an odd angle. Three thick slashes were gouged across his chest, oozing blood.

Did…did I just…?

"Peter," Wanda said, "are you okay?"

"I-I…" He staggered back, stunned. He suddenly felt his fever back?

Clint took a step forward as if to catch him, but Peter managed to steady himself before that became necessary. "Easy, kid."

I'm gonna be sick. "Did…I…?"

"You defended yourself, that's for sure," Clint said. "I've never seen you move that fast. You're not developing a new power you're not telling us about, right?"

He shook his head, dazed. "No. No, I didn't…"

Wanda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're okay," she said. "You were just surprised, and you acted on instinct. We've all done worse."

Peter couldn't take his eyes off the man he'd just hurt. He'd live, but…

I don't hurt people like that. That's like my whole thing! I web up the bad guys and let the police handle them. So what was that? I broke his arm! I busted his face up! I…I cut his chest somehow, and deep!

"Come on," Wanda said gently. "I'll wait with you outside. Clint, if you would watch the lab?"

Clint gave a mock salute. "You got it."

Peter felt a hand on his lower back. Wanda, guiding him outside. He sank down against the side of the warehouse the instant he was there. His whole body was vibrating. That strange, tingly sensation was back in his limbs.

"Deep breaths, Peter," Wanda instructed. "I know that was jarring, being ambushed, but you're okay now."

No. No, that wasn't why he was so disturbed. He was disturbed because he couldn't remember. He'd hurt that man, badly, and he didn't remember doing it. His vision had gone dark. He'd moved.

A soft noise sounded from Wanda's earpiece, and she paused. "Stay here, okay? I need to take this."

Peter watched numbly as she got to her feet and moved out of earshot, raising a finger to her earpiece.

"Stark," she said, probably thinking she was out of earshot. She was forgetting about Peter's enhanced hearing, though, so he heard everything. "Everything is okay, you're overreacting."

There was a faint noise from the earpiece, but Peter couldn't hear it.

"Clint shouldn't have told you already," she said in response to the voice on the other end of the line. Tony's, apparently. "He's fine. We're all fine. Peter defended himself brilliantly."

More voices. A pause.

Then, even softer than before, "I don't know. Stark, you didn't see it. He was a blur. I've never seen anything like it." Another pause. "No, I…I don't know. It's probably nothing to worry about. It was instinctual." And again, a pause. "That's true. Still, I'm not sure it's something to worry about."

Peter dropped his head to his knees. Tony was disappointed in him for hurting that person. That's why he was calling. Clint had told him about what he'd done, about breaking his arm and smashing his face in, and now he was going to be in trouble. He squeezed his arms around his legs.

It was nice, though, wasn't it? To have the power to defend yourself. To know that no one else had to protect you.

He shook his head against the following twinge of pain.

Wanda was still talking. "I can sense S.H.I.E.L.D. coming. We'll be back with you soon. Goodbye, Stark."

Peter raised his head as Wanda's boots crunched atop the gravel, moving back toward him. "Am I in trouble?" he asked as she crouched at his side.

"What? No, Peter, why would you be in trouble?"

"I hurt that man. Badly."

"Peter…" She moved to sit beside him, threading an arm around his shoulders. "Do you remember the mess with the Sokovia Accords?"

He sniffed. "Yeah, of course. That was the reason Mr. Stark recruited me, to help deal with that mess." It was a miracle that things had ended as peacefully as they had, after the Accords had been shot down and Cap's team had rejoined the Avengers. Not that it quite that simple—nothing ever really was. The real story involved months and months of pain and petty skirmishes before both sides came to their senses and reconciled. Peter hadn't been involved after that first battle, but he'd heard the stories.

"Exactly," Wanda said. "And do you remember why the Accords were deemed necessary to begin with?"

He winced. "You…um…"

She watched him steadily. "I threw a suicide bomber into a building full of innocent people."

Peter looked away. "Um, yeah…that."

"I killed a lot of civilians that day," Wanda went on. "It felt horrible. I punished myself for it for a long time. But the Avengers still protected me when it came right down to it, right? They stood in between Rose and me when they realized what he really wanted to do. So this right here? This one, petty incident where you just did what you had to do to defend yourself? It is not a big deal. That man deserved it, and he isn't so badly hurt as you might think."

He tightened his grip on his knees. That was all well and good, but why had he blacked out?

"Seriously, Peter. Save the self-punishment for something more significant than a broken arm and a bloody nose."

And well, there was really no way to argue against that, not without saying something along the lines of I completely blacked out and don't even know how I put that guy on the ground, so Peter nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, Wanda."

She smiled, satisfied that she'd done her job in comforting him. But on the inside, Peter was still in turmoil.

This is fine, he tried to tell himself. Nothing is wrong.

But he wasn't so sure.

Peter went on patrol that night, after everyone else was asleep and unable to stop him. There had been a good deal of concern upon their return (apparently word of his incident had spread fast, and everyone seemed to understand that for him to hurt someone that bad would be jarring), and it was a miracle he'd managed to get into his room without being intercepted by another nervous teammate.

But it was all okay now, because he was free.

He hurt a little less now that he was out, swinging by buildings and waiting to see who was out and about. His headache felt distant. The horrifying events of the day were behind him, at least for a moment.

He touched down on top of a building and peered over the edge, looking out at the city lights. It was beautiful. So of course that was when he heard the scream, and things went downhill.

A mugger, he acknowledged, slipping down the side of the building toward the alleyway below. Small prey for him, he'd take care of it in a matter of minutes.

"I don't want trouble," the hooded man was saying, brandishing a knife at some terrified young man further down the alley. "Just hand over your wallet and we can be done here!"

Peter dropped down neatly behind him. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to say no on that."

The man whirled around like he'd been shot. "Spider—!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me!" Peter flung out a hand and webbed the knife, yanking it toward him and flinging it over one shoulder. "Why do you guys even keep doing this? You have to know at this point that I'll just catch you and send you to jail!"

The mugger took a step forward like he intended to fight, and Peter raised a hand threateningly. "I'd stay there if I were you."

But of course the man didn't listen, because who was he kidding? The mugger charged him, fists raised as if that would do anything against him, and Peter flicked his wrist with the intention of webbing him up.

But then, dizziness.

It was exactly what had happened against that HYDRA agent. Peter swayed, his vision spotted, and he was out. He felt something hot and thick on his skin, heard someone scream in the distance, but he wasn't sure who it was. His hands were wet, were slippery and cool in the breeze, and there was something jammed up in the fine lines of the suit's gloves. He smiled mechanically, almost robotically.

"Peter! Peter, respond! Your behavior is highly unusual!"

Karen's voice was so distant that he barely heard it. But he did hear it, and the next moment he was flinging himself back in horror and screaming, watching blood drip from his fingertips and feeling it seep down his face. The mugger was wailing too, writhing and clutching at a torn stomach.

He stared, uncomprehending. And oh no, his chest. He felt it on his chest, warm and sticky, and he raised a hand blindly to dab away the blood but it came away black, black and oily and thick, and he nearly threw up.

"Something is compromising your suit. Peter? Peter! Can you hear me?"

The mugger ran, and he didn't stop him. The victim, that young man at the other end of the alley, cowered against the back wall. Peter didn't even see him.

"I'm alerting Mr. Stark."

That snapped him out of it. "No," he said as if in a daze, "let's not do that."

"But Peter—!"

"Let's not," he said again, raising his hand and staring at the oily substance sticking to his fingers, dying his suit black. "I'm fine, Karen. I feel fine."

"Your vitals are extremely high!"

"I feel fine." He shook his hand, and blood sprayed. "I just…I need a nap, okay? I'm so tired…"

Karen said something else, but he didn't listen. He was already pulling himself back up the building, watching the way the blood pooled on the ground behind him. He was already reaching the compound, slipping back through the window and leaving a few bloody handprints on the white sill.

He took off the mask. His face felt kind of numb. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the tingling, but nothing helped. He staggered into the bathroom in a daze.

Huh…the front of his suit was black. Not the whole thing, just that softball-sized patch where his skin was stained beneath. Like…it was oozing out of him. Peter slapped at the front of his suit, loosening it, and shed it like a second skin.

Frowning dazedly, he poked at the stain on his chest. Was it larger than the last time he'd looked at it? It was seeping something, dark and thick and familiar, and he dabbed a finger at it in numb surprise. It came away stained, mottled like a bruise.

"Your temperature is rising. You do not appear well."

He blinked and didn't respond. A shower…that was all he needed. He should wash the weird black stuff off and maybe some of the blood. His face was covered in it.

The spray felt heavenly. He scrubbed off the blood and wiped at the black goop. Then he got out and sort of wandered over to the bed, flopping down exhaustedly. He was really tired. His head felt funny.

"I would not advise sleep, Peter. Something is clearly affecting you, and I will have to alert—!"

But there was no more, because Peter had just closed his eyes and drifted off.

Tony was in his lab when it happened.

"Boss, Karen is attempting contact. Will you answer?"

He blinked in surprise, raising his head as if to look at someone that wasn't there. "Karen? Peter's AI?"

"Yes, boss."

"Well patch her through, then."

There was a moment then, between FRIDAY leaving and Karen appearing, where Tony's stomach flipped. He doubted Karen would be calling if Peter was totally okay, which left the option of him being not okay, and he didn't like that one bit. Especially not after what had happened earlier that day.

The kid had just been defending himself—Tony had done far worse and been punished with less—but he knew how Peter was. He couldn't hurt a fly, and all of the sudden he'd hurt a lot more than that.

The coms fizzed. Then, "Mr. Stark."

"Talk to me, Karen."

"I am programed to alert you if I detect anything strange in Peter, and I am taking advantage of that programming now."

His heart leapt again. "Where is he? I can be there in five."

"He's not in any immediate danger, as his temperature has stabilized and he can do no harm to himself in a sleeping state. However there was a strange encounter during patrol today that I think you should see, as well as some concerning behavior afterward."

"The kid is patrolling already?" Tony asked, incredulous. "Did I or did I not tell him to get some rest?"

"With all due respect, I don't believe that's important right now. You need to see the footage, as I believe you are best suited to aid him."

"Then send it over." He reached for his glasses. "FRIDAY, put it up on my overhead display."

"Yes, boss."

Tony crossed his arms and watched as the feed as Peter dropped into an alleyway to confront a mugger. Everything seemed normal, as he webbed the knife away from the guy and prepared to hand him over to the police.

Then, chaos.

Tony watched in silent horror as Peter lashed out with his bare hands and just ripped into the mugger's stomach, spraying blood everywhere. Then he kicked him right where he'd torn and sent him crashing to the ground, blood pooling beneath him in a sickeningly dark puddle.

"Oh my god," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Karen, what…?"

The feed continued silently for another five minutes, where Peter examined the blood on his fingertips, then turned and made his way back to the compound. Just like that, it cut out.

"He removed the mask after that point," Karen said. "He wouldn't respond while he was hurting the mugger, and he seemed dazed afterward. Once he returned to the compound, his temperature spiked and he appeared confused. He's sleeping now."

Tony clasped a hand over his mouth. Then, muffled, "How were his vitals?"

"Unusually high, Mr. Stark."

"Right, right…" He swiped that hand up over his face and groaned. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He could go to the kid now and wake him up and demand to know what was going on, but that didn't seem like a good idea if he was feeling unwell. He'd need the rest. But on the other hand, he didn't want to risk waiting. If something was seriously wrong…

"Karen," he said, "what's your take on this?"

"I'm don't know what to make of it. He seemed perfectly fine moments before coming into contact with the mugger, but then he just lost control. It was eerily similar to what occurred today with that HYDRA agent."

Mentally, Tony flicked through a list of possible causes. Teen angst? No, no, Peter's too open for that to be it. I'd be able to tell. Plus, I don't think teen angst would lead him to severely injure two people in one day. An illness? No, that can't be it either. No illness would make him hurt someone like that. So…what?

Sharply, he realized that his list of probable causes ended at two. Unless he was considering something insane like mind control, which was just…well, insane.

"Mr. Stark?" Karen asked. "What course of action would you like me to take?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I guess…monitor him closely, and notify me if he does anything that even remotely suggests he's going to do this again. If he says or does anything unusual, if his vitals get too high or too low, if he so much as blinks wrong, I want to know about it."

"I'll give you a full report if he continues to act strangely."

"Thanks, Karen. I'll take care of the rest myself."

The AI's voice went silent, and Tony put his glasses down on the table. He rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. What am I supposed to do with you, kid?

He told himself it was okay, at least the few remaining hours in the night. Peter was stable for now.  He'd go to him tomorrow and ask him what had happened the night before. He would make sure he was safe, that he knew he wasn't going to be locked up for what he'd done, and help him with whatever was going on.

He'd make sure he was okay.

Chapter Text

When Peter awoke the next morning, his head was pounding.

He had vague memories of the previous night, but nothing concrete. He remembered leaving for patrol, running into a mugger, taking him down…but it kind of faded out before he actually took the guy down, and after that everything was a whirlwind of blood and pain and chaos. He couldn't remember what had happened to the mugger, but he hoped he was okay. He had this strange feeling that he wasn't.

"Peter?" came Karen's voice, as concerned as an AI could sound. "Are you well?"

He blinked sleep from his eyes and sat up. "I…I think so?" He patted himself down, checking for injuries, but came away with nothing but sore muscles. The world tilted a bit as he tried to get his feet on the ground. "I'm a little dizzy."

"Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark? I'm sure he could arrange a meeting with a doctor if you're unwell."

"No, no, it'll pass."

A pause. Then, "Do you remember last night?"

He frowned. "Kind of? I mean, I remember patrolling, and…and I'm pretty sure something bad happened…?"

Karen was quiet.

"Um…Karen? Is there something I should know about?"

More silence. Then, "You attacked and severely injured a mugger."

"Oh." He waited, then, for the horror to set in. He'd hurt someone. He'd hurt someone, and he couldn't remember it. Just like with that HYDRA agent. He should be terrified of himself, should want to put himself in the ground and stay there to stop himself from hurting anyone else. He should want to go to Tony, to ask him for help.

But he was numb.

It's okay, isn't it? The mugger was going to hurt that guy, and you stopped him. So what if he got hurt a little? He deserved it.

Peter rubbed at his eyes. His stomach flipped.

Didn't it feel good, to have that power? To reach out and cut down everyone in your path?

He shook his head a little. What's wrong with me?

But there was no response, and so he was left sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at the ground.

"Peter?"

"I'm okay," he said, and he felt like a broken record. "Just…just let me get dressed."

He got up, and there was the evidence of what he'd done. His blood-soaked suit was draped over the sink. There was a scarlet handprint on the window. The floor of the shower was stained pinkish. And his chest—

Peter rubbed at the darkened skin. The discolored patch was larger now, nearing the size of a volleyball instead of a softball. He cringed at how tender the skin felt.

Okay, he thought, something is wrong here.

No it's not. You're fine. You're stronger now.

…Right.

Peter clutched at the doorframe, suddenly dizzy again. There was a flush between his eyes and over his cheeks, a sharp, biting heat that cut straight through him. Fever, he recognized.

"I'm afraid I've had no choice but to alert Mr. Stark about your high temperature," Karen said, sounding almost afraid. "He requested to know if you showed any signs of illness this morning, or acted strange in any way. I'm sure he'll wish to see you soon to speak of what is currently affecting you."

He pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, right…I'll make sure he finds me today."

"…Okay, Peter. What will you do today?"

He shuddered. He needed to clear his head, to wind down from the panic of the previous night, and there was only one way to do that. "Train," he said. "I'm going to train."

"With a fever?"

"With a fever," he confirmed. "Sweat it out, right? I'll be okay, it's not like Natasha is going to kill me."

Karen didn't speak, but he could still hear her disapproval. She was probably already telling Tony what was going on.

Without waiting for her to put voice to that sentiment, he ducked out of the room. The compound was quiet, most everyone off in their own rooms, so Peter didn't stop for conversation as he headed for the training room. His upset stomach led him far away from the kitchen.

Natasha was there, of course. Mornings were designated training time.

"Hey, Peter!" she called as he walked in, interrupting what looked like a dwindling spar between her and Wanda.

He raised a hand to them, then to Clint and Vision, who were leaning against the training room wall. It must have been a special occasion; Vision didn't normally show up. He didn't really need hand-to-hand, what with the weird stone in his forehead, so he usually floated around reading for most of the day.

"Hey, kid," Clint greeted. "Care to join us for the show? We've got the best seats in town."

Natasha shot him a look like she'd be elbowing him in the face if she was close enough. "You can jump in next if you like, Peter. We're almost done here."

Clint pouted. "No fair, I thought I was next!"

"That was before you made that clever little comment. So what do you say, Peter?"
He gave a weary smile and said, "Yeah, sounds good. I need to take my mind off things for a while, anyway."

"Not still thinking about what happened yesterday?" Clint asked, gesturing for him to sit down. In the center of the room, the fight between Natasha and Wanda picked back up.

Peter had to hide a grimace. He didn't think he wanted to tell anyone about the mugger yet, not until he cleared his head and had some time to really think. So he settled for, "I know it wasn't a big deal, I'm just trying to put it behind me."

Clint gave an appreciative nod. "Good kid."

In the center of the room, Wanda was trying to sweep Natasha's legs out from under her. Peter watched without really seeing.

Vision quirked a brow. "Mr. Parker, you don't appear to be quite well. Are you feeling depressed after yesterday's events?"

"What? No!"

"Understood. Are you depressed about something else?"

"Geez, Vision, I'm not depressed about anything! I'm just tired, okay, I had a long night." Which was true, but not in the way they were going to think.

"You'll get better at this eventually," Clint said, and it made Peter wince because he knew what he was saying was that he'd get used to hurting people. He didn't want to get used to that. He never wanted to see a day where he ripped into someone and didn't feel sick afterward.

Wanda yelped suddenly, and Peter looked up to see her hit the ground.

"Got you!" Natasha exclaimed, victorious.

Wanda took Natasha's hand when she offered it, getting to her feet with a begrudging smile. "I almost had you," she said.

"Next time," was the amiable response. "Peter, do you want to start?"

"You don't want a break first?" he asked.

Natasha shook her head. "I'm not tired. Plus, when have I ever needed all my energy to take you down?"

"Hey!" he protested, but there was a smile on his face. Even if it was a bit plastic, it was there. "I'll get you one of these days, you know!"

"Prove it," she said, and her smile was nothing but genuine.

Peter felt almost ashamed, getting up and going to spar with her. She didn't know that he'd torn that mugger's stomach wide open and left him there. She didn't know that he hadn't even felt horrified by his actions once he'd woken up the next morning, that all he'd felt was a numbing sense of apathy. She didn't know what he'd done.

He was a bad man, came the little voice of justification. He deserved it. You did what had to be done.

But that wasn't true and he knew it.

"Come on," Natasha said, slipping into a fighting stance. "Show me how all that practicing has paid off."

He waited a moment, just to make sure his head wasn't going to go off again. But it didn't, and the dizziness didn't return, and so he felt at least a little safe stepping forward and taking the first swing.

Natasha caught it, like she always did, and delivered a blatantly choreographed kick to his shin. She was starting easy today.

Clint booed playfully and called, "I liked the last fight better! Come on, kids, step it up!"

"I'm older than you, Clint," Natasha called, and the jibe didn't stop her from nearly hooking one of Peter's legs out from under him. Peter leapt, twisted to one side, and caught Natasha's arm between his closed knees. The weight of his body carried her to the ground, and Clint cheered.

"Good moves," Natasha huffed. "Except…"

Peter yelped, one arm pulled straight out from his body and locked there. A leg hooked behind his back, spinning his world on its axis, and suddenly he was on his stomach and Natasha was perched on his back with that arm held hostage, pressing in the empty threat of breaking it.

"First round goes to me," Natasha said, letting his arm down and giving his shoulder a pat. "Good fight, Peter."

He scrambled to his feet (and his head did not spin, thank you very much!) and got back into starting stance. "This time," he promised, though he knew it would be a while yet before he managed to take down someone as experienced as Natasha.

"This time," Natasha agreed with a smile. Then she punched at him, a classic opening move, and Peter had to think quickly to stop himself from being decked in the face.

Unfortunately, that was when it all went wrong.

He just couldn't remember. But one moment he was blinking in surprise as Natasha's fist flew toward him (at half its normal velocity because of course she would never hurt him, but for some reason he just didn't register that), and the next he was blinking and staggering back, confused, as Clint kicked him hard in the chest.

Later, he would understand that it went something like this:

Peter caught Natasha's fist in his bare palm and stared.

"Nice catch," Clint called from the sidelines.

But Natasha wasn't smiling. She looked at Peter, and something in her expression shifted. "Hey…"

And Peter—Peter didn't even blink. Something pushed inside him, something dark and swelling and choking, and he took Natasha's closed fist and squeezed.

Even though he couldn't hear it, couldn't hear much of anything, the sound of bones cracking was sickening. Natasha cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, Clint and Vision surged to their feet, and Peter didn't move a muscle.

It was quick. Clint grabbed Peter's wrist and squeezed hard enough to bruise, kicked him in the chest to send him sprawling. Vision caught Natasha as she staggered back, broken fingers already turning an unnatural shade of purpled blue.

"What the hell?" Clint snapped, bow appearing out of nowhere, an arrow already nocked for good measure. "You'd better start talking right now before I use this on you, kid!"

Peter stared at his hands. He felt…distant.

Wanda took a step forward. "Peter?" Her stance was tense, as if she were ready to leap into battle at any moment. "Are you…okay?"

He clenched and unclenched is fingers. Okay. What a strange concept. Was he okay? He didn't really know. How was he supposed to feel?

Wanda suddenly looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Your chest," she whispered.

His chest?

Wanda raised a hand, scarlet gathering at her fingertips. "Hold your hands away from your body, Peter. Please."

He didn't hear her. He was too busy dabbing his fingers at the dark stain across his chest, watching in fascination as the inky black liquid seeped through the cloth. Was that weird bruise oozing again?

Bristling with tension, Wanda looked back at Vision. "Alert Stark," she said simply, and the next moment the android was taking Natasha and vanishing.

Clint wrinkled his nose. "What's that on his chest? It's like…oil, or something."

Wanda shushed him. "Peter," she said carefully, "you're okay. I just need you to hold your hands out, okay?"

He rubbed his oily fingers together. His head spun, and he blinked to straighten things out.

Why should you listen to them? You're strong. You can beat them.

He raised a hand, and Wanda tensed. Clint drew an arrow back.

Then he stopped. God, what was he thinking? What was wrong with him? All at once it hit him—the horror, the shame, the confusion, everything from the previous night, and he felt his eyes starting to water.

"Kid?" Clint asked softly.

Peter sniffed. "I-I don't feel so good, you guys."

"You're okay," Wanda soothed, taking slow, deliberate steps forward. "You're just overwhelmed, Peter, you're going to be okay. Can you give me your hands?"

Shock stabbed through him, and he gasped, "I broke Natasha's fingers!"

"She'll be fine," Clint tried. "She's seen worse."

"Not from a teammate!"

Clint and Wanda paused, and Peter recoiled. Because of course, who was he to call himself their teammate? He'd just hurt one of the founding members of the Avengers, and now he was going to pay.

"No you're not," Wanda said, probably plucking the thoughts right out of his head. "We're going to have a conversation, Peter, nothing more. So just give me your hands and relax."

It took everything he had. That dark, surging power beneath his skin was trying to get out, was whispering poison in his ear, and he had to grit his teeth and close his eyes to keep it back. He didn't even know what it was.

"That's it," Wanda whispered, reaching for Peter's hands when he finally forced himself to extend them. "Everything will be okay now, Peter. We're going to help you."

Peter kept his eyes closed, but he felt it when Wanda's cool fingers settled on his wrists. Something passed between them, some sweet jolt of energy that hit Peter right in his core, and all the tension bled out of him. The darkness was quiet, if only for a moment, expunged by a wave of scarlet.

Peter slumped, and Clint lunged to catch him. "Geez, Wanda," the archer murmured, though Peter barely heard it. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He can't attack us like this," was the answer. "I'm keeping him calm, but it will only last so long so we should get him to Stark immediately. I'm sure he'll want to call in Dr. Banner for this."

Peter hissed as Clint jostled him a bit and the strange feeling in his chest surged again, but a moment later Wanda was there and it was all okay. "H-hurts," he managed in a rasp, because his head was pounding and his chest was aching right where that awful stain was, and his fingertips felt numb.

"I know," Wanda soothed. "We're getting you help, so just stay still."

So he did. He stayed still until the darkness returned, and he couldn't bear to remain conscious any longer.

Tony was there when they brought Peter in.

He'd gotten the news from Vision less than five minutes prior, when the glorified robot phased through his bedroom wall and told him, in no uncertain terms, that Peter had attacked Natasha and broken all the fingers on her right hand.

He hadn't known how to react. His first thought had been that Karen had failed him, hadn't contacted him the instant something had started to go wrong—but of course that wasn't true, because she'd warned him the previous night and had warned him again in the morning, but he hadn't gone to Peter because Pepper had been about to leave and he'd wanted to take five minutes to say goodbye.

It had been a stupid to take that risk, and now they were paying for it.

Vision raised a hand to his head, frowning. "Wanda says that she's contained the situation, and that she's taking Mr. Parker to the med bay. He'll need to be restrained."

The hell he will, Tony thought, but he didn't say it. "Great," he said instead. "I'll call the doc. Make sure Nat's taken care of, okay?"

"I've already left her in the med bay, in a secure room far from where Mr. Parker will be located."

The fact that he found something like that necessary made Tony feel a little sick. So he bid farewell to Vision, shut off his holograms, and got to the med bay as fast as he could.

…Which brought him to the part where Peter was brought in.

He wasn't sure if it was better or worse, that the kid wasn't struggling. He was just hanging there, held in Clint's arms like a broken doll, eyes shut tight. He didn't so much as twitch as Clint set him down on one of the many cots and tugged his arms out to either side.

"Wanda," he said, like Tony wasn't even there. "We need those restraints now."

Then Clint moved, probably to take the restraints from Wanda, and Tony got an eyeful of the kid's chest.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded, storming up to Peter's bedside and getting a better look at the dark, inky stain across the front of his shirt. He didn't dare touch it, not before he knew what it was, but at the very least he could gawk at it and let the sheer horror of the situation overcome him.

"We don't know what it is," Wanda said simply. "Where is Banner?"

"On his way, hopefully." Tony reached for the collar of Peter's shirt and tugged, buttons popping off as he shredded the thing off of him.

Then he saw his skin, and his heart plummeted through the ground.

"Well that's not good," Clint said, and it was the understatement of the century.

"What is that?" Tony asked again, pulse racing. "It's seeping through his skin!"

"Don't touch!" Wanda commanded when she saw Tony's fingers drifting just a bit too close to the dark liquid. "We let Banner handle this one."

Clint fastened the restraints around Peter's wrists, Wanda reaching to take care of his ankles. "Tony," he said, "do you know how this might have happened?"

He shook his head, bemused. "I…I'm not sure. He didn't get hit during the mission you went on together?"

Clint shook his head. "I told you, the kid was untouchable. He took that agent down before he got within a foot of him."

And then he took down that mugger in the same way. He just…ripped right through him.

"What about the mission a few days ago?" Wanda questioned. "You were with him, Stark. What happened there?"

He opened his mouth to say that nothing had happened, that it was all fine—but then he paused. "He fell into a pit," he realized. "There was this dark liquid, and it got all over him. I thought it was oil."

"Dark liquid like that?"

Tony cringed. "…Yeah. Exactly like that."

"Well at least we have a source," Clint said, though he sounded a little uneasy. "Let's have Bruce analyze it and try to figure out what's going on. Peter can stay here, nice and safe, while we figure this thing out."

Tony glanced down at the kid. He was still unmoving, probably as a result of Wanda's handy psychic powers. "Can you wake him up now?"

Wanda shook her head. "Probably not a good idea with so many of us in the room. He might panic."

He gave a sharp nod. "Right. Everyone out except Wanda and me!"

"And," Wanda said, stopping Tony in his tracks, "it might be a good idea to keep him sedated until Banner can have a look. We have no idea what we're dealing with here, and we don't want to take chances."

He paused. As much as he wanted to wake Peter up immediately and question him about everything, Wanda was probably right. If he woke up and freaked out he could hurt himself (or someone else, whispered a dark voice in the back of his head), and that would just make things worse. It was better to just let Bruce do his thing.

And speaking of Bruce…

Footsteps pounded through the doorway, loud and frantic. "I'm here! Tony, what's going on…?"

Bruce stopped dead a few feet away from the cot, eyes wide. "What the hell is that?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Wanda said primly. She stepped aside, drawing Tony with her, and let Bruce approach the bed. "How much have you been told?"

Bruce was already working, checking Peter's vitals and reaching for a set of sensors to affix to his skin. "I heard about the mission yesterday," he said as he worked, plugging in monitors and making sure that everything was running correctly. "Hmm…his vitals are a little high…"

"Is that all?" Wanda pressed.

"Yeah, yeah—I mean, Tony said something about him collapsing or something?"

Clint pressed his lips together in a firm line. "He attacked Nat. Broke her fingers and just stood there like he didn't realize he'd done it. Then that stuff started seeping through his shirt and we had to talk him down before Wanda could calm him down."

"Which I can't do forever," she threw in, "just so you know. Perhaps a mild sedative would be beneficial, if only while you work."

"His metabolism is too fast, I'd have to give him too much." Bruce was pulling away the remnants of Peter's shirt now, getting a closer look at the black fluid glistening on his skin. He reached for gloves and a swab. "This'll only take a few minutes."

Wanda cringed but said nothing.

Tony hovered as Bruce ran a cotton swab through the center of the gunk. Tiny hairs of cotton stuck to the fluid, grabbing, pulling, and the doctor frowned as he was unable to unstick the swab. "Well that didn't work," he said.

"It's so sticky," Clint commented. "If he fell into a pit of the stuff, how did he get it off in the first place?"

"The suit," Tony explained, feeling faint. Bruce was reaching for some kind of metal scraper thing, and he worked to pry up the cotton swab and drop it into a test tube that he quickly sealed off. "There's a setting in the suit that let it roll off like water, but some must have gotten on his skin anyway."

"Well we need to get this stuff off of him," Bruce said. He placed the test tube off to one side and started working at the rest of the goop caked to his skin. "I need to be able to see the skin clearly to understand what's going on. Clint, will you run this down to the lab? Cho will be there; tell her it's from me and that it has to be analyzed immediately. Make sure she knows to be extra careful about handling it."

Clint gave a sharp nod and took the tube, leaving for the lab.

"I would highly advise a sedative," Wanda said. She sounded pained. "He's beginning to fight me."

Bruce clenched his teeth. "Okay. Okay, fine. Tony, will you—?"

He opened one of the many cabinets in the infirmary without a word, reaching for the sedative he knew from experience worked at least somewhat well on Peter. A capped syringe was handed off to the doctor, and Bruce wasted no time in filling the chamber and injecting the fluid into Peter's bloodstream.

"It'll just keep him out for a few hours," Bruce said, no doubt sensing Tony's tenseness. "I want to get a good look at his chest, maybe take a tissue sample for the lab. It's better that he's unconscious."

"You're telling me," Wanda murmured, rubbing at her head in relief as the fighting slowly drew to a halt. "I think I will go lie down, if you can handle things here. Will you tell me the instant you know what's wrong?"

"Of course. We'll call if we need you again."

She dipped her head momentarily, wincing in the process, and then she walked out after Clint. Tony and Bruce were alone.

Bruce motioned to the drawer of disposable gloves. "Help me with this, will you?"

So he did. Tony pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully, oh so carefully, began to help Bruce remove the viscous fluid from Peter's chest. It was beginning to look more like tar than oil, now, and it was almost scarily hard to remove, but they managed it. Bit by bit the stuff was whittled away, and then the two men were left staring at the horrifyingly mottled skin of Peter's bare chest.

"It's like a bruise," Bruce observed, stunned.

Tony placed a few gloved fingertips on the strange mark. It was about the size of a large dinner plate, stretching from mid-chest to mid-stomach and expanding clean over the ribs. The fluid was seeping from a fist-sized patch in the dead center of his chest.

Bruce wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. "I don't like this, Tony. Anything that comes from HYDRA can't be good. And if he's displaying signs of unusual aggression, especially toward a teammate…"

He bit down on the inside of his cheek. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Tony. I'm just…keeping an open mind. HYDRA has been good at swaying people to their side in the past—against their will, of course—and we have to be prepared for every possibility."

"He is not the Winter Soldier," Tony bit out, anger bubbling in his gut. "Barnes underwent an extensive amount of brainwashing to get to that point, and all that happened to Peter was a tumble into a pit of whatever that stuff is. He'll be fine."

Bruce gave a silent nod, reaching for a bag and withdrawing a scalpel. "I'm going to take a very small tissue sample," he said. "I'm sure his healing factor will repair any damage in a few minutes, so don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," Tony protested. Then he paused. "Okay, pretend I didn't say that." He paused again. "Hey, wait—why isn't his healing factor taking care of the mark?"

Bruce just shrugged. "We'll know more once analyze the sample. Now just let me…"

Tony turned away as Bruce numbed the area and removed what he needed.

"Oh, wow…"

He turned. "What? What is it?"

Bruce shoved a pad of cotton against where he'd removed the tiny bit of skin, the sample already in a petri dish and ready for studying. "His blood," he explained. "It's darker than it should be, and he's bleeding too much for the size of the incision I made."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to draw blood and figure out what's going on."

More samples. Tony tried not to feel sick.

"Don't worry, Tony," Bruce assured him, reaching for another syringe. "I'm sure we'll see something in the samples that will explain all this."

"Yeah," he agreed, voice strained. "I'm sure you're right."

Chapter Text

When Peter woke up, he was greeted by a blinding moment of panic.

"Woah, there! Peter—!"

He jerked up against the restraints holding him down, not sure where he was, not sure if he was safe, the whole world tilting as his head reminded him that he still didn't feel right. He was warm, and his chest felt like someone had been walking all over it. Frantic, his eyes scanned his surroundings.

…The med bay? Why was he in the med bay?

There was a sharp jerk of movement at his side, and his gaze snapped to the person standing there, hands outstretched as if he could do anything to stop the initial rush of panic.

"You're safe, kid," said Tony Stark, looking frazzled and exhausted. "Calm it down, Pete, you're okay now."

Tony's hand landed on his shoulder, then, and Peter felt a surge of wrongness swell beneath his skin. He jerked away, and the offending hand was immediately removed.

Tony paused, no doubt reevaluating the situation. He was shooting nervous glances at something next to Peter's head, and when he rolled his eyes in that direction he found himself looking at a bunch of flashing lights. His vitals, probably. That would explain the beeping.

Peter jumped as Tony moved again. "Talk to me, kid," he said. "How are you feeling?"

He pulled up on the cuff around his right wrist. Cast iron, he recognized. They're serious.

"You have to say something, otherwise I'm going to have to call Banner and tell him that you're still out of it. And he'll sedate you again, kid, you know he will. He gets real stabby with those needles sometimes."

Sedation. That must have been why he felt so fuzzy, so weak. He shook his head a little. "I-I'm fine," he rasped, voice scraping like sandpaper on the inside of his throat. His mouth tasted awful. Like blood, or…

"Like hell you're fine!" Tony snapped. Then he seemed to compose himself, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "How much do you remember?"

Peter closed his eyes. He remembered…pain. He remembered this devastating attack of dizziness, the crunch of bones beneath his fingers, and then the screaming. He remembered feeling sick. He remembered wetness at his chest, viscous and slightly sweet-smelling.

"I hurt her," he settled for at last, and Tony slumped a little. "Natasha. I hurt her."

"She'll be fine," Tony said unconvincingly. "Just a few broken fingers; Cho has her visiting the newly restored regeneration cradle to heal up later today. She understands that it wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't my—Mr. Stark, I squeezed her hand until her bones shattered!"

"And we're trying to figure out just why that happened. Peter…" He ran a hand through his hair, greasy from a day or two of not washing it. "None of us know what to make of this. I mean, have you seen your chest? It was leaking what looked like tar! And what was with that mission you went on with Wanda and Clint, and then the mugger you nearly tore in half?"

Peter went pale as a sheet. How did Tony know about the mugger? Had he…watched the footage from his mask?

"Kid, you have to tell me what's going on!" Tony exclaimed. His hand reached out as if to land on Peter's leg, but he jerked away as that dark swell of wrongness returned, and Tony recoiled without question. "You had to have known about that thing on your chest. Why didn't you say anything? How long has it been there? Is it related to the mission we went on to the HYDRA compound? Why did you do those things to the HYDRA agent, to the mugger, and then to Nat? Just…what's going on?"

Peter looked down at his chest. There was a small pad of gauze taped over the center, and he suspected from the slight pain that Bruce had taken a few layers off his skin. There was no fluid there, which meant they'd cleaned him up and none had oozed out since. Just looking at it made him feel a little nauseous.

"Kid?" Tony demanded.

His head snapped up. "I don't know what you want me to say," he said helplessly, voice cracking on every other word. "When I got back from the HYDRA mission I noticed that my skin was stained, but it seemed fine."

"You had to have recognized that your healing factor wasn't working once it stuck around for a few days. Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't think it was an issue." He purposefully refused to look down again, keeping his gaze either on Tony's chin or the ceiling. Eye contact was a no-go right then. "It's spread since it first showed up, but I didn't realize how much. I kept thinking it would go away."

"It's spread?"

"And then—the thing with the HYDRA agent, I don't know what happened there. I kind of…um, I kind of blacked out? And when I opened my eyes the guy was on the ground with a broken arm and a lot of blood on his face."

Tony stared. "Jesus, kid."

"I'm not—I mean, I didn't—!" He broke off. "I don't know. I felt kind of shaky and feverish and I think I wasn't totally in my right mind."

"And what about the mugger? What then?"

Peter flinched, the memory washing over him in a wave of scarlet. "I don't know," he whispered again. "He was going to hurt that person, and I dropped down to web him up, and…and the next thing I knew there was blood everywhere and I was back in the compound."

Tony took this deep, deliberate breath like he was trying to keep himself calm. "And Nat?"

"The same thing," Peter admitted. "I caught her fist and got really dizzy, and then I woke up here."

"So this is the first time that mark has started leaking, then?"

Leaking? Peter almost looked down at the bruise on his chest to make sure it wasn't oozing that black liquid, then jerked his head away quickly. He didn't want to see the evidence of his mistake. "No," he said softly, and Tony made a choking noise in the back of his throat. "It happened when I hurt that mugger. I washed it off."

"And you still didn't get help."

"I didn't think—"

"How much else has to happen before you think it's a big deal?" Tony demanded. "Pete, you ripped someone's stomach open yesterday! Even though Nat is going to be okay, you still broke her fingers! You're oozing some kind of black goop! What the hell else is there that could make this more of a big deal?"

Peter flinched like he'd been struck, lowering his gaze to the sheets. His fingers curled. "I don't know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

Tony was pinching at the bridge of his nose again, like he had a headache. "You're going to send me to an early grave," he said under his breath, but Peter heard it anyway. "Okay, kid, story time is over. We need to deal with this."

"How?"

"Banner is analyzing the samples he drew from you as we speak, so I'm sure he'll have something to say about fixing this. In the meantime, you're going to stay here for observation. Absolutely no going anywhere unattended, do you hear me? Your suit is confiscated until further notice."

There was a moment where Peter almost opened his mouth and proclaimed that taking his suit wasn't fair, that he was more than capable of being Spider-Man. But then he saw Tony's face, drawn and tense and worried, and he shut his mouth quickly. He nodded.

"Good kid," Tony said tightly. "If you feel anything—dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath, even the slightest headache—you call someone. We have to keep a close eye on this; we have no idea what we're dealing with."

Peter gulped. "And…it came from a HYDRA compound, so it can't be good."

"No," Tony agreed, pained. "No, it can't."

"Well…" Peter bit at his lower lip. "If we're being completely honest…"

Tony's head shot up in a flash. "Peter," he warned. "What haven't you told me?"

"Well…I don't want you to freak out because I feel fine now, but when I woke up I was kind of dizzy? And a little warm, like I have a fever or something. I'm fine now! Just…when I woke up…"

The older man dropped his head into his hands. Then the moment of weakness was over, and he straightened and said, "I'll tell the doc. Get some rest, kid."

"Yeah, I-I will. Thank you, Mr. Stark!"

"Don't thank me. Not until I find a way to fix this."

There was something in his head.

Peter watched as Helen Cho tinkered with the monitors displaying his vitals, collecting information for Dr. Banner. She frowned at one, nodded at another, blankly recorded a third. She had no idea what was going on inside her patient's mind.

You could break the restraints. What right have they to contain you? You should be free. You should be flying through the streets, ready to defend innocent bystanders from evil.

Peter shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't want that. He wanted to stay here and wait for everyone to figure out what was wrong with him. Everyone was treating him so well, visiting and talking to him and keeping him calm, and he couldn't just leave and betray their trust. He was safest there, strapped to the bed.

You can't be safe with them. They'll hurt you, experiment on you. You deserve more than what they can provide for you.

Peter closed his eyes, fists clenching. That headache was starting up again, and he thought that maybe he should tell Cho before she left. Tony had said to tell someone if he felt strange.

You're better than this.

He opened his eyes, and the world tilted. He shut them again. "Stop," he whispered.

Cho blinked, turning her gaze on him. "What was that?"

"N-nothing! Sorry, I'm just…I'm tired, that's all."

She raised a brow. "Very well. Your vitals appear normal, Mr. Parker, so I'm going to wrap up for the day. If you need me, you know where the call button is."

He nodded. "Thanks."

And that was that. She left, and Peter went back to focusing on not doing…something. He wasn't sure what. All he knew was that it was itching beneath the skin, trying to get out, to move, to hurt, and he was forcing it back down. But that wasn't the scary part.

The scary part was that it felt good.

Through the dizziness, the nausea, the terror—it felt good. It felt like there was something right at the core of his being that wanted him to fight, to run, and listening to it made him feel alive. But he couldn't listen to it. He had to stay there, strapped at every joint, until they knew what was wrong with him. This was probably just another symptom.

Like that weird parasite that bugs get sometimes, he thought dazedly. The one that wires itself to the bug's nervous system and controls it so that it walks into conditions favorable for the parasite to grow. Whatever this feeling is, it's trying to get me to do something that will just make the condition worse.

Even knowing that, staying still was driving him insane.

He counted the ceiling tiles for a while. Then he hummed, trying to get through as many songs as he knew without stopping. Then he tapped his fingers restlessly against the mattress and practically vibrated with nervousness. Maybe if Bruce came back now, he'd know what was wrong. He'd have a cure.

Eventually he realized that he'd been staring at the cuffs for at least thirty minutes, just thinking of ways he could break them and escape. He immediately felt even more disturbed than before.

I'll call someone, he decided finally, when that swell of energy and darkness began to really scare him. He didn't know what it was, and it felt like what he'd felt right before he'd hurt Natasha, and it cut right to his center. So he tried to reach for the call button and—

Nothing.

Frowning, he tried again. But he couldn't move, couldn't reach for it when he tried, and he felt bile trying to rise in his throat. Oh, the dizziness—the dizziness was back, accompanied by a killer headache, and Peter was terrified.

Stop fighting it.

He shook his head vigorously and tried to reach for the call button again. He cursed the late hour, that no one was there to witness his struggle.

You don't have to fight. Break the restraints and leave.

He choked, the oppressive force inside him suddenly twisting like it was trying to burst out through his skin. And then it really did burst out, or at least ooze out, as he saw that dark fluid starting to bead up through the pores on his chest. He shook in confused horror, trying and failing to move.

The stuff stuck to his chest like a second skin, expanding, flowing, breathing. No one had ever put a shirt back on him, so it was sickeningly visible the way it moved, creeping down his sides to reach skin it hadn't been able to reach before.

Now. Move now!

Peter's vision went fuzzy around the edges, and his arms moved of their own accord. There was the sound of tearing metal, loud and abrasive in his ears, and then suddenly he was standing there staring at his hands as alarms blared around him.

The cuffs had sensors, he realized dizzily. I took them off without deactivating them properly, so they set off an alarm.

He blinked a few times, hard, but the blurriness didn't clear. The goop was dripping down onto his stomach and soaking into his waistband. He swayed.

There were footsteps in the hall, rushed and loud. Voices drew closer and closer.

Go. Go now, get out of here! They'll capture you again, experiment on you! The doctor will take a scalpel to your skin!

He pulled the gauze off his chest and let it fall. What was he supposed to be doing, again?

"Peter!"

He looked up, dazed, and found himself looking at Steve Rogers. Sam was at his side, as was Helen Cho. None of them were dressed for battle. Steve didn't even have his shield.

"His skin!" Cho gasped. She made to step forward, but Steve held out an arm to stop her. Peter just stared.

"Hey, son," Steve said, and it was so similar to what had happened not twenty-four hours before with Clint and Wanda and Natasha, and Peter shook his head in a weak attempt to stop his mind from racing. Even that motion felt thick, somehow, like he was moving through syrup.

You can take them. You can escape.

Steve was saying something, but Peter wasn't listening. He was looking behind him at the window, the one that led to the outside world. Something tugged in his chest, urging him there, but he resisted. Something was wrong.

"We don't have time for this!" Cho burst out, trying again to move forward. "That stuff is alive, Mr. Rogers, it's going to consume him unless—!"

Peter blinked, and the doctor was pinned to the ground and there were hands clawing at his shoulders and an arm around his waist trying to tug him back, and he could barely feel it. He was dizzy again. So dizzy.

"Kid—kid, snap out of it! I don't want to hurt you!"

He punched Steve right in the face and watched as he staggered back. Sam darted around him, no threat without his wings, and Peter knocked him to the ground without blinking. Inside, he was singing.

Yes, yes, good, you're doing it, you have it—doesn't it feel good? We can be like this all the time. The Avengers are standing in your way. They want to take this away from you.

His lip curled, and he threw another punch. Steve raised his hand as if to catch it, as he'd done hundreds of times before in training, but this time it didn't work. When Peter made contact, Steve went flying.

"Helen, get out of here!" Sam commanded, putting himself in between her and Peter. "FRIDAY, put the building on lockdown!"

"At once."

The lights dimmed, but Peter didn't register it. Sheets of metal closed over the windows.

Finish this.

He moved without thinking. Steve slammed against the wall and slid down, blood dripping from a split lip. He swayed from the vicious hit to the head, and didn't lift a finger as Peter nailed Sam in the ribs and sent him flying.

"Don't come after me," he said robotically, like it was the most important thing in the world, and the dark swell in his chest was satisfied.

"P-Peter…" Steve choked, reaching out a hand, but Peter had already turned away.

"Do not worry," came FRIDAY's synthetic voice. "I have locked the building down, and not even the Hulk would be capable of—"

Peter punched the metal coverings over the windows, and they caved like aluminum foil. It sent an unpleasant shock wave through his arm, but he knew this was important and so he did it. Something tickled his face. Raising a hand, he felt viscous fluid on his cheek. His fingers came away black.

You've done well. Now I will be strong.

He threw another punch, and the ballistic glass shattered.

You know where to go.

Peter stepped forward, ignoring the frantic cries behind him, and flung himself from the window of the med bay.

Chapter Text

"We should have known."

Silence. Everyone stared at something—be it the ground or the table or the wall but never each other—and refused to look up.

"We should have done better."

Steve closed his eyes tight. Natasha curled her newly healed fingers into a fist. Wanda gazed mournfully at her shoes.

"We—I mean, we should have done something! We should have put him in vibranium cuffs, or drugged him, or…or just done anything other than let him get away!"

Vision touched the stone in his forehead, probably subconsciously. Sam and Clint exchanged a regretful glance. Bruce shook his head.

"Now he's out there somewhere, doing god knows what, and we can't find him!"

Finally, Steve raised his head. "We did everything we could," he offered weakly. "It's only been twelve hours since Peter escaped, and we have all of SHIELD looking for him. He'll turn up."

"I'm sure he'll turn up, Cap, what I'm concerned about is whether or not he'll be alive!"

"We'll make sure he's alive!"

The outburst sent the room into another fit of silence. Tony looked between faces furiously, teeth clenched so hard they felt like they were about to break, and tried not to scream.

"We all saw that god-awful footage," he said finally, voice tight. "You—you saw what he did. He's not himself. Something's controlling him!"

"He's confused," Steve offered softly. "And whatever that stuff is, it's made him impossibly strong. We have to find him before disaster strikes."

"You mean before he hurts someone else?"

"Before he kills them. Look, Tony, I don't know what's going on in the kid's head—no one does—but we have to get to him now and make sure that whatever this thing is is, he doesn't use it to do something he'll regret once he regains his head."

If he regains his head, Tony thought, then pushed that idea to the very back of his head. He would get back to normal. They'd help him.

"Finding him isn't going to be easy," Natasha said quietly. "He wasn't even wearing his suit when he left, and it's not like we have him tagged. He could be anywhere."

"Well, where would he want to go?" Clint asked.

"I don't know if what he wants is a factor anymore."

"Okay," Bruce said, "how about where would that stuff want to take him? I'm still analyzing the samples so I'm not quite sure what the specimen is yet, but at the very least we can say that it's having some kind of influence on his mental state. Where would it direct him, if it were fully in control?"

Tony's heart plummeted. "It came from HYDRA. Maybe it's trying to go back."

"Germany?" Cap asked. "There's no way that kid can get there without us giving him a ride. He didn't even take any money with him for a plane ticket."

Natasha cocked her head. "Maybe not Germany. Maybe there's a base closer than that."

"One we don't know about," Tony said slowly. "But—one that the goop would know about? Are we just assuming it's sentient at this point?"

"We don't know, Tony," Bruce said. "We have to account for every option. It's equally likely that that stuff is just designed to make him incredibly violent, and that there will be no rhyme or reason to who he attacks."

"Except that we haven't had any reports of Spider-Man randomly attacking citizens."

"He doesn't have the suit. They wouldn't know it was him."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, defeated. "Pardon my French, but it seems like we're fucked."

Cap made a face as Wanda said, "Perhaps not. I know Peter's mind at least in passing, so it's possible I could pick him up from a distance. Not too far a distance, but…better than having to go to each person individually."

"That's assuming that his mind is still recognizable," Bruce said darkly. "Like I said, we don't know what this stuff is. It could have…"

"Don't finish that thought," Tony said sharply. "He's still Peter."

Cap nodded. "We'll do whatever we can to help him. For now, I'd suggest sending a team back to Germany to find the source of this stuff. Maybe there's something we missed."

"I'll send Helen," Tony said immediately. "And I can send a squadron for protection."

"Okay," Steve said, "but we have to be careful about this. Ross is going to figure out what's going on sooner or later, what with us ordering his troops around, and once he does I'm not sure what he's going to do."

"He's not going to do anything," Tony said. "We'll have Peter back by then."

Steve winced. Then, "Bruce, you can keep analyzing the samples while we're gone and tell us what you find."

The doctor nodded. "You'll know as soon as I find something."

"Perfect. That leaves the rest of us to look for Peter."

There were murmurs of assent all around. All of them were attached to their youngest member, with his charm and goofy innocence and general kindness, and having him absent was having a somber effect on all of them. No one was smiling.

"Vision," Steve said, "I want you sweeping the outer rim of the city. Sam will take the inner east side, Tony will take the west. Wanda, take the north. I want Nat and Clint to the south."

"Now would be a good time to have a certain god on our side," Tony pointed out.

"We have no way of contacting him, Tony, you know that. He's been gone since Ultron. If we want more power, we'll have to get it from somewhere else."

Bruce raised his head. "You want the big guy on this?"

"No way. We're not trying to kill the kid, just bring him in."

Tony glanced down. Yeah, except Peter broke through metal walls that were meant to contain the Hulk, and he didn't even seem to blink. Would he be strong enough to…?

Steve gave a sharp nod. "Then move out, everyone. I'm going to contact a few of our old friends and get them on this too, so hopefully we'll have a lock on Peter by this evening."

"By old friends, do you mean…?"

"Bucky knows HYDRA better than anyone here. He can help."

Tony kept his expression completely neutral and said, "Perfect."

"Tony—"

"No, no! I'll tolerate the guy if he brings the kid back. Just…let's be careful here, okay?"

Steve watched him, weary. "Good. I'm also going to see if I can get in contact with Scott. He might be able to do something with the ants. And Bruce—if you can't figure this out, our friends in Wakanda might be able to. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Will do," Bruce said simply. "Now if you don't mind, I think we should get to work on this."

So that was what they did.

Peter hurt. He wasn't sure how long it had been or what was going on, but he did know that it hurt. His whole world had become pain.

Disoriented, he reached for the side of a building and steadied himself. He didn't know where he was. All he knew was that he felt ill, and he'd blacked out for what had to be most of the night, and now he was swaying and trying not to throw up and just hoping that he didn't end up dead. He didn't know what was happening to him. He was scared.

I have to get back to the tower, he thought, taking a shaky step forward. He tried to figure out where he was, blinking at his surroundings, but everything was too blurry to tell. Or…or at least get the word out that I'm here, that I'm safe, that someone needs to come get me. I…I'm not sure if I can make it back alone.

The pressure in his head swirled as he took another step. He tried to reach up and touch his temple, but the acrid smell of drying blood hit him in the face as soon as his hand got within a few inches of his nose.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Peter shook his hand uselessly in an attempt to get the blood off, but nothing happened. It was sticking to his arms and his chest and his neck and dripping all down his legs, staining his pants, and he didn't know what to do. He didn't even know where the stuff had come from. Who had he hurt this time?

He moved to take another step, and this time he missed the mark. His leg slipped, and the next thing he knew he was lying flat on his back and staring at what was probably the sky. Something was creeping up his chest, grabbing at his shoulders and wrapping around his arms. Darkness kissed his neck.

It's okay. Let it happen.

He whimpered, just barely managing to roll onto his side and curl into a ball. The creeping sensation moved up his neck, slid around his ears.

Don't fight, child. It is far too late for that. I'm already in your heart.

Peter struggled to keep his eyes open. The goop was pressing over his lips. It was caressing his cheeks.

I'll use you to kill them, now. We'll kill them together.

He slammed a fist into the ground and heard it crack. His lungs burned.

We'll kill them all.

Peter managed one last breath before the stuff sealed over his nose as well, and then he was suffocating.

All you have to do…is give in.

He didn't have a choice. His head spun more and more violently with every passing moment, and the goop had reached his eyes now, sealing them off as well, and he could barely struggle through the pain of it all. There was poison in his head and in his heart, and all he could do was choke for breath where there was none. His world edged with black. He tipped toward the abyss.

Good boy.

Then he went over, careening into nothingness, and his vision went even darker.

"I've got him!"

Tony raised his head hopefully as the call came through, all the way on the other side of town. He raised a hand to his ear and demanded, "Where is he?"

"Track my location, I've got eyes on him. He doesn't look good."

"Do not engage," Tony commanded, as if Cap would be dumb enough to do otherwise. "Everyone, get there now. Steve, is he in any immediate danger?"

"Negative. He's just…standing there."

"Then let's hope he stays that way," Tony said, firing his thrusters and taking off for Cap's part of town. "Let's take him down quick and clean, no funny business. We don't want to hurt him."

"We also don't want him to hurt us," came Natasha's voice.

Tony clenched his teeth. "Just get into position."

He landed by Steve not ten minutes later, the others quick to take position behind them. It was a bad part of town that Tony had never seen before, and he cringed at the rancid smell emanating from the nearby sewer.

"There," Steve murmured, pointing down the street.

Tony looked. And then he looked again, because there was no way that was Peter.

"That's not good," Clint whispered.

Peter didn't even flinch, despite the fact that his hearing meant that it was entirely possible he'd heard the comment. Instead he just stood there, staring at the sky, covered in goop. The stuff was like a second skin, molded perfectly to his form. The only human skin started at Peter's jawline and covered his face, minor flecks of black dotted beneath his eyes and over his cheeks.

He looked possessed.

"Well, let's go get him," Tony said, trying and failing to hide the tremor in his voice. Then he stepped out from behind the building and moved forward with confidence, ready to take Peter down if necessary.

"Peter!" he called, but the kid didn't even flinch. "Hey, kid, can you hear me?"

Peter stared at nothing, shoulders low and relaxed, stance loose.

"Kid!" Tony called again. "Come on, look at me!"

He smiled a little, but refused to turn.

Cap drew up beside him. At his side, the other Avengers approached cautiously. "Peter," Steve said, "I know you must be scared, but we're only here to help. We'll keep you safe."

His smile widened. His expression was strangely vacant.

Steve took another step forward. "You have to come with us, now. You—you're covered in blood."

Finally, Peter moved. Though when he did, Tony felt worse rather than better. The kid's head rolled toward them, eyes somehow managing to pull off dark and blank at the same time, and he grinned.

"Captain Rogers," he said, and immediately Tony knew something was very wrong. "How many people have you let die in your career?"

Steve brought his shield up. "Peter? What are you…?"

"How many?" he repeated eerily. "Do you think it's a hundred? A thousand?"

"Son, you're not in your right mind. Stand down."

Peter turned. "What if I don't want to? Are you going to kill me? I'd hate to join the ranks of the people you've left to die. Though perhaps it would be entertaining, watching you kill a member of your own team. It's not like it hasn't almost happened before."

Steve shot Tony a guilty glance, then turned back to Peter. "Look, Peter—whatever that goop is, it's messing with your head. You have to fight it!"

The kid giggled like a jittery schoolgirl and said, "He thinks you can fight me. I think you're more likely to fight him."

Cap immediately took back the step he'd made forward. He held his shield in front of him, ready for combat, but Peter made no move to attack.

Tony was quick to step up. "Look, let me handle this. Pete, you did this once before and you can do it again. Hold up your hands and Wanda can knock you right out, and this time we'll make sure you can't escape. We'll get that shit off of you."

"He wants me gone," Peter mused, pressing a thoughtful finger to his lips. "What do you think about that?"

Tony stared, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

"Oh!" Peter raised a finger. "You agree. Oh well, it's not like you have any say in the matter! I've got a job to do, and you're standing in my way."

"Kid, we can—!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark!"

"Wanda!" Tony commanded, but she was already on it. Tendrils of scarlet curled around Peter's wrists and slammed him to the ground, and a heartbeat later the kid was surrounded.

"Great," Steve said, though he sounded shaken. "Now let's tie him up and get him back to base."

Peter laughed, and everyone paused. "They think it's going to be easy," he wheezed, pounding a fist on the ground. Tony jumped when he saw the cracks left behind in the concrete. "Hmm, but they don't know what I am! Of course they'd think it would be easy."

"And what are you, exactly?" Steve demanded in a low, tense tone.

"Oh, there are so many answers I could give! I could tell you that I'm your worst nightmare, no? Or I could tell you that I'm Peter, but stronger. Or…or were you looking for a name? I don't have one, but I could make something up. How about V—?"

"Steve," Natasha said sharply, "we can't listen to him. It's not Peter right now, it's something else, and talking is only going to make everyone upset. Let's just put him down and bring him back."

"Agreed," Vision said, landing beside him with a worried expression. "I predict that things will not go well here if you continue to engage him."

Steve hesitated. Blinked, once, twice, three times—and then he relented. "Yeah," he rasped, "okay. Wanda, knock him out."

"Of course." She stepped forward, hand raised.

"Not sure that's a good idea," Peter said, watching her hand grow nearer.

Wanda didn't listen. She reached closer.

"I'm warning you…"

Her fingertips sealed to Peter's temples. Her eyes closed.

Peter just sighed. "I did try to warn you. Oh well, here it goes!"

There was a pause, then, where no one knew quite what to make of the situation. But then Wanda screamed and Peter surged to his feet, and everything devolved into chaos.

"Grab him!" Tony yelled, ducking as the kid sent Vision flying past him and into a wall. "We can't let him get away again!"

Peter did something that Tony couldn't see, and Clint and Wanda were flung into the air like puppets. "It's not as fun without my webshooters," he complained. "What's the point of being Spider-Man without the suit?"

Tony ducked around Falcon, who just beginning to take off, and went for Peter with the intent to restrain.

"Oh, look who it is! He likes you, Tony, he really does." A hand sealed around Tony's armored wrist and squeezed until the metal caved. Horrified, he could only follow the kid's movements as Peter threw him to the ground and kicked him hard in the side. "Too bad he's going to have to watch me kill you."

Steve appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Peter from behind, sending him crashing to the ground. Almost immediately Falcon was on him with some kind of metal net, which landed over the kid and then magnetized together to stop him from escaping. But of course Peter was stronger than that, and all he had to do was rip the thing off him and grin. He caught Natasha's punches, slamming her to the ground to join Clint, who was still down from his tumble. Then he caught Cap's shield and threw it back, and the man barely managed to roll out of the way to avoid having his head cut off.

Vision sprang back to his feet. "I can take him down, I'm sure of it! The stone will—!"

"We can't hurt him!" Tony protested, even as Peter snatched Sam out of the air by one wing and crushed him into the concrete. "Peaceful takedown, remember?"

"He's hurting us," Clint gasped, rolling onto one side and clutching at his bruised ribs. "We should have brought the big guy."

Tony grit his teeth and checked his systems to make sure he was good to go. Then he was off, firing blast after blast at Peter. The cannons were on nonlethal levels, though, so the kid just sidestepped them and laughed about it. When Cap threw a punch, thinking Peter distracted, he caught his fist in his open palm without flinching.

"You won't get anywhere as long as you're not willing to kill," Peter said simply. "Nonlethal means…they're all useless."

"Peter would never—!"

"Peter isn't here." He turned on heel, sensing Wanda coming up behind him, and smashed a fist into her stomach. She went down and didn't get back up. "Though I could let you see him, if you like, if only for a moment."

Tony opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was about to say, but Peter took the need to speak away as he turned and blinked and suddenly staggered.

"Mr. Stark?" came the soft, rasping voice of the kid Tony had come to know so well. "I-I…I don't feel…"

Tony scrambled forward without thinking, sensing that Peter was about to fall. When he toppled, he was there to catch him. "Kid," Tony whispered, cradling him like a child. "Kid, it's okay, just breathe. We're going to get you out of this."

Peter stared up at him, weak and terrified. "I'm scared," he whispered.

"I know, kid. I know." Tony held up a hand as Cap approached, telling him silently to stop. "You don't have to go back under. Just look at me, okay? Focus on me and we'll get you out of here."

Peter closed his eyes and breathed deep. "W-will you do something for me? Please?"

"Of course, kid," Tony said. "Anything."

"Good," Peter rasped, "good. Then…if you're sure…"

Tony leaned closer. "I'm sure."

Peter went very quiet.

"Tony!"

He had a split second to realize what was about to happen before it did. There was a flash of movement, the glint of cold steel, and then something was ramming right between his ribs and sticking there. Through the goddamn suit.

Peter sighed against his ear. "Too easy, Mr. Stark."

But that hadn't been all. Because in that one moment, the moment between being stabbed and falling back, Tony swore he'd seen a spark of real panic in Peter's eyes. He'd seen the horror, the confusion, the pain.

"You're still in there," Tony rasped through a rising mouthful of blood. The knife, shard of metal, glass, whatever, must have punctured a lung. "It's okay, kid, I know you didn't mean it."

Peter snorted. "Unbelievable." Then he rose, kicking Tony to one side, and turned to face the last standing Avengers. Vision and Cap, both looking about as horrified as Tony felt. "Shall we wrap this up? I've got business in Germany."

Cap brandished his shield. Vision glanced to him, as if asking permission to use the stone against their target.

"Whatever it takes," Cap whispered, and Vision nodded. "Sam, I need help with Tony!"

Sam rolled over and glared at him. "Rogers, does it look like I'm in a position to help?"

But there was no time to answer, because Peter had just launched himself at Steve. Tony watched in shock as the kid ducked and weaved and punched and kicked, avoiding every strike and leaping over every shield bash and landing every hit. Vision was unable to fire, too concerned about hitting Steve in the process. Before he knew what was happening, the kid was standing there with Cap's shield in his hand. When Vision fired, he reflected the blast and shot the android out of the sky.

"Well that was fun," Peter said, dropping the shield. "I'd kill you all now, but unfortunately I'm on a rather strict timetable that I've already begun to miss. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And they could do nothing but watch, helpless, as Peter turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

The next few hours were a blur.

S.H.I.E.L.D. showed up, because of course they did, and tried to perform damage control. Damage control for Tony ended in him lying in the infirmary, recovering from a brief operation and waiting as Helen checked his stitches.

"You were very lucky," she remarked, stepping away. "He could have killed you."

"But he didn't." Tony almost touched the stitches, but stopped himself at the last minute. His hands definitely weren't clean enough for that.

"Your survival was unintentional, I'm sure."

"No…he said he didn't want to kill us."

"Yet."

Tony looked away. "Yet," he repeated softly.

"Tony…" Cho stripped off her gloves and went to wash her hands. "I'm in no position to tell you what to do here, as you well know. However…I've been doing this for a long time, and looking at the force that was used to make that wound? He meant to kill you."

"Then why didn't he go for the throat?"

Cho didn't respond, and Tony didn't push her. In a matter of minutes she was gone.

"So," Steve said, breaking the silence. "What are we going to do about this?"

The Avengers didn't respond right away. They were looking a little worse for wear after the scuffle with Peter. Tony's chest was still wrapped in bandages. Wanda had a black eye and a fractured collarbone. Sam had a neat set of stitches running from eyebrow to hairline. Though not currently on display, Natasha had a brutal set of bruises blossoming across her back and her right side. Clint wasn't even there, having been knocked out to help repair a shattered rib. Even Vision looked beaten up, and Cap—ever the fast healer—still had a flurry of cuts and bruises from the encounter.

In short, it wasn't looking good.

"Peter is out of control," Natasha said in a low voice. "We have to take him down, and we have to do it now."

"We can't act until we know more about what he's covered in," Vision said. "Surely you saw it as well—that fluid, whatever it is, has completely consumed him. His mind is not his own."

"Yes, that…that was obvious. But he still poses a threat, and we have to deal with that threat before it turns into more deaths."

Tony cringed. Shortly after the fight, he'd learned that the blood on Peter's hands had come from a series of murders committed a few blocks up. He'd torn a family of three apart with his bare hands.

"He said he was going to Germany," Steve said. "We have S.H.I.E.L.D. up there, and they're searching for him as we speak. If they find him they'll alert us, and we can be down there immediately. We've even managed to keep this away from Ross for the time being, but we're on borrowed time there. We'll have to get Peter back before he realizes what's going on. "

"And then what?" Natasha pressed. "Steve, you saw him. He tore through us like we were nothing."

"Because we weren't trying. This time we'll know better."

"He caught your shield without breaking a sweat. He crushed the arm of Tony's suit."

Now it was Steve's turn to cringe. "Yes, but…we'll stop him this time. Well just need a better plan."

Vision raised his head. "I agree. Mr. Parker has become volatile and must be contained. If that means using potentially lethal force in order to—"

"Woah, woah!" Tony broke in, horrified. "What's this about lethal force? The kid's only seventeen, we can't use lethal force! He doesn't want to hurt us."

"But he will, regardless." Vision gazed at him levelly. "He made an honest attempt to kill you, Mr. Stark, and he would do it again to any of us."

"If he really wanted to kill me he would have hit something more vital than a single lung, and he didn't."

"That's—"

"If he really wanted to kill any of us, he would have done it! He had us weak, beaten, on the ground! He could have killed any one of us without blinking, but he didn't. Why?"

Natasha shook her head. "He said he had a timetable to keep, and that he'd kill us soon enough. I don't want to hurt him either, Tony, but you have to see that he's not well."

"Maybe—maybe he just said that because Peter wasn't letting him kill us! Because he was fighting back, fighting that thing, and he didn't want to let us know. You saw him, he was fighting! He was there. Just for a moment…"

"Oh, Tony…" Natasha's gaze went soft, weary. "It was an act. Surely you can see that he was just baiting you. Peter wasn't really there."

"No—no! After he stabbed me there was a flicker in his eyes, and I saw him. He's not gone."

Steve raised a placating hand. "Even if he's not gone for good," he said carefully, "he's gone right now. He can't fight whatever that thing is, and we need a way to get it off him. Bruce is still analyzing the samples, but once he has a full report we'll know what to do."

"And how long will that take?" Tony asked sharply. "He's off to Germany right now to do god knows what, and we're just sitting here talking about it! He's just a kid, Cap, he doesn't deserve this."

Steve sighed. "No. No, he doesn't."

"Then let's make it right. All of us, off to Germany right now. We'll catch him."

"Tony, no. Not without Bruce's report."

"We can stop—!"

"We can't, not until we know more about what we're dealing with. If we do this wrong Peter could die, Tony, is that what you want?"'

He blanched, because of course that wasn't what he wanted. The thought of Peter in pain, struggling to break free, was giving him heart palpitations. He couldn't stand the thought of him dying.

"We'll wait for Bruce's report," Cap said again, looking to the rest of the people in the room. "Then we'll formulate a plan to bring him in safely. Understood?"

There were nods all around.

"Good. Then let's—"

There was a noise from the coms, and everyone paused.

"Boss, Bruce is requesting the team to assemble in the lab. He's finished analyzing the samples."

Tony's heart leapt hopefully. "Speak of the devil. Let's move out, guys!"

All of Tony's hopes were dashed the second he stepped into the lab and saw the expression on Bruce's face.

"Sit down," he said, pointing to the table off to one side. "Trust me, you'll need it."

That didn't exactly make him feel better, as he sank into a chair and waited for the others to settle around him. His stomach was flipping up and down.

"So?" Steve asked, when Bruce took a moment too long to start talking. "What is it?"

Bruce took his hands away from his face, and Tony's heart sank even further. He looked scared. "Well it's nothing good, I can tell you that much. I've run every test in the book and I've never seen anything like it. It's—it's a goddamn disease, is what it is. It's a parasite."

Parasite. The word was a solid punch to the gut.

"I don't know why HYDRA had this thing or what they were planning to do with it, but they were insane for keeping it in such an exposed area," Bruce went on, frazzled. "It's incredibly contagious as far as I can tell, and once it finds a host it doesn't let go. It latches on and leeches energy until there isn't any more to take. It's deadly."

Tony caught the horrified glance Steve threw his way, but he refused to look at him. "What is it, though?" he asked desperately. "Where did it come from? What's its purpose? What's it doing to Peter that's making him lose his head?"

"Well…" Bruce wrung his hands. "It's…it's becoming him, for lack of a better term. At least, that's what I think is happening."

"How can you tell?" Steve asked softly, dangerously.

Immediately Bruce was moving, stepping back to type frantically on a computer and bring up a graphic. He spun the thing around and showed them video footage of a petri dish filled with what looked like bands of human skin cells. "I ran an experiment," he explained. "I used cultivated skin cells and introduced just a drop of the contagion, and…"

He didn't have to say anymore, because everyone could see it. Everyone could see the way the darkness seeped into the cells and destroyed them, melted them, became them. By the time the twenty-four hour mark passed, all that was left was a thick, dark goop.

"It absorbs the host," Bruce explained, sounding short of breath. "It eats them alive. Using this data I tried to put together a simulation of what would happen to a real human body with a brain and a nervous system and a heart, and this is what I got."

Another graphic, this one of a complete human body with all the accompanying vital organs. When Bruce hit play, a dark patch appeared on the chest that quickly spread to the rest of the body.

"The parasite envelops the body and begins to soak through the skin," he explained as the animation played. "It produces more in the skin to cover the whole body, then eats its way inside and picks off non-essential organs to keep the host alive longer. Then it reaches the more essential organs, ending with the heart, and the host is completely absorbed. And…I'm not completely sure, but my tests indicate that this thing is able to wire right into the central nervous system. As in, it can control its victims before death. It can lead them to do whatever it deems necessary to aid in the absorption process."

Tony felt like he was about to be sick. That was going to happen to Peter?

"What's the time frame on this?" Natasha asked, all business.

Bruce just shook his head and said, "Peter's enhanced so we're not really sure. The simulation has complete deterioration marked at one week, but it could be longer. And that's complete deterioration, not the point at which the host might still be saved. If you want to actually save the victim, you'll need to get to him as soon as possible. Five days marks complete brain death."

Oh god. How many days had it been since Peter had been infected? Three? Four?

"He's enhanced, though," Bruce reminded them, no doubt seeing Tony's impending panic. "He could last longer than that."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "The rate of deterioration looks pretty fast, Bruce. He's already succumbed to the thing mentally, and we don't have a solid estimate for how long it'll take physically."

"Then you'll just have to bring him in now."

"Do you have a cure?"

"Well…" Bruce shifted, uncomfortable. "I have a start on one. I've been experimenting with the stuff, trying to figure out how to kill it, and I've made at least a bit of progress."

"And? What's caused it to die?"

He winced. "Nothing, yet. Or at least, nothing that a human could survive."

"Bruce," Tony bit out, "tell us."

"Right, right." He took a deep breath. "Well, the most effective thing has been oxygen deprivation. Whatever this thing is, it needs to breathe just like a human. So if you cut off oxygen for long enough, it enters a state so close to death that it can be handled safely."

Tony clapped his hands together. "Great, so have the kid hold his breath for a bit and we'll pry the stuff off of him. No problem."

"Yes, but the problem is that the parasite is structured in such a way that it takes a long time for oxygen to drain out of it and cause an observable effect."

"How long? I'm sure Pete can handle it, he's—"

"Ten minutes."

Tony's mind went blank.

"The world average for holding your breath is thirty seconds," Bruce said, like Tony didn't already know. "After one minute without oxygen, brain cells can begin to die. In three minutes, serious damage is likely. In ten…well, not many people make it back from that. Even if Peter is enhanced, it's unlikely he would survive."

"Then another option," Steve said, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder to keep him grounded. "What else have you tried?"

"Extreme temperatures," Bruce said. "But there's the same problem there, too. The prolonged temperature the parasite has to be kept at in order to render it inoperable would kill the host."

"Well then we need something chemical!" Tony burst out. "Something able to wipe the thing out! An antidote! A cure!"

"I've been trying," Bruce snapped. "This thing is stubborn, okay, and I can barely get it to a docile state, let alone kill it! It hasn't responded to anything I've tried other than oxygen deprivation and low temperatures. There's a chance I can come up with some kind of cure given enough time, but…well, I'm just not sure how long that will take, and Peter is already on the clock."

"So you have nothing," Tony bit out. "Not a single thing that can help us."

Bruce gave a helpless shake of the head. "I'm sorry. I don't have anything yet."

Tony opened his mouth, ready to fire back a scathing response, but Steve beat him to it. "Then we have to find something," he said, keeping his voice level. "Call up Wakanda's top people and get them on this; I'm sure they'll be willing to help if we explain what's going on. If that thing multiplies or infects other people, we could have a global catastrophe on our hands."

"I'll take care of it," Bruce promised. "But that's still leaving the question of why and how HYDRA had this stuff, and what its purpose is."

"Peter said he was going to Germany," Natasha pointed out. "It's possible he's being led back to HYDRA as a weapon."

No one spoke for a good minute after that, as the horror of the statement sunk in. Because as horrifying as it was, it was likely. With a sinking heart, Tony flicked through his memories of the past few days. Peter had contracted the parasite inside a HYDRA base, as a part of a trap set to catch an Avenger in its grasp. That parasite had then proceeded to turn him violent, amplifying his strengths and setting him against the other members of his team. And now, after all of that, he was heading back to Germany, where the remnants of HYDRA were based. The parasite was taking him back to its masters.

"That thing is bringing HYDRA an Avenger," Steve said, voicing what they were all thinking. "They meant to turn one of our own against us, and to have that person take out the rest of the team from the inside. It just didn't work the way they hoped it would."

Bruce shook his head. "But that doesn't make sense. How did they create this thing? Did they create it? And more importantly, did it go wrong? Because from the way it sounded, Peter had a pretty good opportunity to kill you guys, and he didn't do it. If he was intended to wipe us out, he did a poor job of it."

Tony shuddered at the thought and said, "He didn't kill us because he's fighting it."

"Tony…"

"I saw it!" he protested. "None of you saw his face, but I did. I saw how conflicted he was! He's fighting that thing, and he'll keep fighting it all the way to HYDRA."

"He stabbed you in the chest," Steve said bluntly.

"Yeah, and he could have gone for the throat."

Natasha quickly put herself between the two before a fight broke out. "Even if he is fighting, what's the point of bringing Peter to HYDRA if that thing is just going to eat him alive? It seems like taking him there is pointless if they're just going to end up with a dissolved superhero."

Steve's brow wrinkled. "Maybe they can do something with the goop once it's absorbed someone?"

"Or maybe they just know how to get it off," Clint threw in.

Tony nearly swayed at the thought of what that entailed for Peter.

Steve said, "If that's true, they'll just rip the stuff off of him and have a nice, shiny captive to hold over our heads."

"So that was the plan?" Tony asked. "Infect one of us, use him to kill the rest of us from the inside. Or, as a backup plan in case double-quadruple homicide wasn't possible, return to base and disengage in order to provide a hostage."

"But it was possible," Bruce said. "He could have killed you, and he didn't."

"Then maybe he was just supposed to scare us and show us that he could seriously kick all our asses if he wanted to? I don't know."

Steve groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Instead of puzzling through the motives of madmen, can we focus on what we're going to do about the situation? Peter is moving toward Germany as we speak, and we don't have any leads on which compound he's headed for. We didn't even know there were any still out there!"

"Then you'll just have to go back to Germany," Bruce said. "Take a jet and stay there until you figure out where Peter's going. See if you can find him before he gets there. And, most importantly, bring him back. I might be able to fix this, but I can't do anything without a live patient. Remember, we don't know how much time we have here. We're in uncharted waters."

"We'll need a plan," Natasha said. "He crushed us last time."

"We weren't really trying last time. This time we'll be prepared."

She offered them a weary smile. "Lethal but not too lethal, right?"

Steve nodded, pained. "Lethal but not too lethal."

"Hang on," Tony said immediately, "we could seriously hurt him here. We have no idea how the relationship between host and parasite works here—what if Peter's the one absorbing all the damage, and the parasite is only expending his energy?"

"It's a risk we'll have to take if we want him to live," Steve said. "If we do nothing or go too easy on him, we won't be able to capture him and that thing will eat him alive. The most painless thing for Peter is to bring him in now, before it's too late, even if that entails roughing him up a little."

Bruce pushed himself to his feet and stepped over to one of the cabinets, riffling through the top drawer. "You'll want some kind of sedative for when you catch him," he explained. "I'm not sure how well it'll work, with Peter's enhanced metabolism mixing with that of the parasite, but I can do my best. Hang on…"

Tony got to his feet. "Send it up when we're ready to leave."

"Is that not now? You'll want to get to Peter as soon as possible."

"Yeah, but we'll also need a few hours to suit up and get everything we need on the jet." He was already poking at his watch, scrolling through the possible upgrades he could take with him into battle. This time he was going to be prepared. He was going to help the kid, like he should have the first time he'd realized something was off.

"Hey, now." Steve held out a hand as if to grab Tony's wrist, then thought better of it. "You're talking like you'll be coming along."

"Well of course I will, he's my protégé!"

"…And he just stabbed you less than twenty-four hours ago. He punctured a lung, Tony, you need to rest until it's healed."

"Dr. Cho dealt with that, it's fine. Regeneration cradle, remember?"

Steve stared, expression caught between frustration and understanding. "Maybe it's better that you stay back on this one. We'll bring him home."

"Yeah I'm gonna have to give a solid no way in hell to that one, Cap. This is my fault, and I'm going to make it right."

"It's not your—"

Tony raised a hand, cutting him off. "Let's not argue about this, okay? Because I'm right, and will always be right, so there's no point. Let's just get suited up and meet for departure in…what, two hours? Two hours sound good?"

Steve watched him sadly. "Two hours," he agreed. "Bruce, contact Wakanda and keep working on a cure."

Bruce nodded. "I'll have something for you by the time you bring the kid in. Good luck."

Chapter Text

Will you stop it? You've already succumbed; fighting it now will make no difference. You lack the strength to stop me.

Peter rammed his shoulder against the door for the hundredth time, struggling to get it open. He knew that it opened; he'd been thrown through it when he'd first arrived here but now it was sealed tight from the other side. Panting from the exertion, he tried again and was met with the same result. The door didn't even budge.

You're giving me a headache.

"Good," he managed through rasping, shallow breaths. "I'm trying to give you a headache." He backed up, ready to try it again, but had to stop for a moment for fear of passing out again. He felt so weak. He still didn't even really know what was going on, and he was goddamn terrified, but he knew he had to fight. He didn't know what he was fighting, but he knew it was important. He knew it.

Expending your own energy will only kill you faster. Calm yourself.

He raised a fist as if to pound against the door, but staggered well before he got there. Still panting, he let his back hit the wall and slide down. The room was tiny, a concrete cube with a solid steel door, and he felt like he was suffocating. He knew it wasn't real—he knew he was in his head right now, knew that he was seeing things while something else entirely controlled his body in the real world—but it felt like the most jarringly real thing in the world.

He jumped suddenly as the walls rumbled, shrieked, then closed in by just another inch. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller than it had before.

What did I tell you? Every moment of struggling brings you closer to complete assimilation.

Peter shuddered, bracing himself against the wall as if he could stop them from closing further. His heart was pounding; he felt like he was spiraling. It wasn't real. He wasn't conscious. He was trapped here, in some dark corner of his mind, while this thing used him to do what he had no doubt were horrible things.

"What are you?" he whispered. "What have you done?" Because he remembered some of it—remembered the nausea, the dizziness, the great swell of power that had sucked him under and promised him everything if he would just give in—but after that it was a blank. He'd woken up in a tiny room with no windows, had struggled for what felt like an eternity, but he knew he was going nowhere. The worst part had to be the flickers. The moments where he could see and almost understand what was going on, but not for long.

Like…when he'd looked Tony in the eye and…

What am I? the voice echoed, rich and deep and not quite human. I am you.

"No. No you're not! I would never hurt Mr. Stark, and I saw you do it! I saw you…saw you stab him!"

And you punched and kicked at the walls the whole time, and it made no difference. I can do whatever I wish with your physical form. I will feed off of you until you're gone, and then I will move on and destroy the rest of your team. It is as my creators command.

"So you're what, a soldier?" Peter asked. His heart rate was beginning to slow, but he wasn't sure if that was a good sign. A slower heart rate meant that he was calming down, which meant that exhaustion and sleep might follow, and he didn't trust himself with sleep. He needed to stay awake to fight.

I am better than a soldier. I am perfect.

"I thought you said you were me? Because if you're me, you're nowhere near perfect."

You have such a small mind. Soon I will expunge it entirely.

He shuddered again. "Great, thanks."

My creators worked for years to perfect my design, so that I might aid in the destruction of their worst enemies. Phase one of their plan has been executed perfectly thanks to me, and we are now moving into phase two. You will not interfere.

"I don't suppose you'd let me in on the plan? Like, I know killing the Avengers is kind of a thing, but how exactly are you going to do it?"

Peter felt something, then, like a surge of discontent—but it wasn't his own. I cannot risk telling you. If you regain consciousness—which is highly unlikely, of course—you will tell the Avengers what I am attempting to do.

Peter leaned his head back against the wall to think. "Your creators made you to kill the Avengers," he said. "So what, you're supposed to attach to a host and…absorb them, it sounds like? Take control of a host's body and use them to kill everyone?"

I don't have to explain anything to you.

"That's a yes, then," he muttered. "You infected me, right? When I fell into that pit of oil. Except it wasn't oil, it was you. You got on my skin and sank in, and now…" He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see anymore. Now I'm your puppet, he thought, though he didn't say it. He wondered if saying it even mattered, if this thing was so deeply in his head that it could read his mind.

The thing made no comment.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked. Because he caught glimpses of the outside world on occasion, or just when the goop wanted him to see what was going on around him, and he knew that they had been moving for quite some time now. He wondered how long his body would last at such a pace.

We are going to my creators, as you well know.

"What," Peter said wearily, "trying to lure the Avengers to you?"

Silence.

"Oh my god, that's it, isn't it? I hope you know you're insane."

Nothing.

Peter let himself rest for a moment longer, slouching against the wall. Sleep was tempting, but he knew that he couldn't let himself rest. He wasn't sure if he had a chance to beat this thing alone—nothing he'd done had even budged the thing's consciousness—but he was sure that giving up wasn't an option. He wasn't going to let himself hurt Tony again, or anyone else.

He'd…he'd hurt people. That thing had hurt people using his body.

That wasn't going to happen again.

"I hope they kill you," Peter murmured.

There was a pause. Then a laugh, a dark, ominous sound that cut Peter to his core, and the thing was speaking.

You will die long before I do, little spider. Don't forget that.

He stared at the wall for a moment, silent. Then he rose, shaking his arms out a little to get the circulation going, and went back to the door. He punched it once, then winced as the walls rumbled and slid inward just a centimeter.

Peter shivered. "As long as I take you out with me."

The world opened up for Peter some twelve hours later. One moment he was staring at the wall of his cell, throwing himself against the wall for the thousandth time in the past hour, and the next he was blinking and watching as his body moved against his will.

"I want you to see this," said his voice, but it wasn't his will to say it. "Perhaps I'll keep you conscious for much of my remaining mission. It could be fascinating to listen to your screams upon being forced to kill your heroes."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing moved. He tried to shift his arms, but nothing was working. "Brilliant." Except the word didn't come from his physical mouth, it came from empty space that had no link to the physical world.

"Isn't it? Now keep quiet, we've got a job to do."

Peter watched in mute horror as his body walked without his permission, picking its way through what looked like a forest. He'd caught enough snippets of the thing's thoughts to know that they were going to Germany, and he knew now that they were going to meet the creature's creators, but that was about it. All he could do was wait in silence.

He wondered, watching as his body crashed through the forest, if Tony was okay. That horrible moment was still playing over and over in his head. The moment where he'd scrabbled for a shard of twisted metal and driven it up hard between Tony's ribs, cutting right to the center of his being. Then yanking it out, letting the blood gush and watching the horror in his mentor's face.

"You're still in there," he'd rasped, even as he started to bleed out in the dust. "It's okay, kid, it's not your fault."

Peter's eyes watered a little—or at least they watered in his incorporeal form, however that worked, where he was standing in his cell and watching the world through the parasite's eyes. He hated the thought of hurting Tony, or anyone else on the team. It was why he'd fought so hard to regain control, even if it just ended in him being held down by the parasite as it used his body to hurt someone he loved. He hadn't even managed to budge the thing.

It needs a name, he thought to himself. I can't just keep referring to it as 'the parasite.'

"Experiment 0600Y."

Peter jolted. "What?" But again, the voice never made it to the physical plane. It was all in his head, and only the parasite could hear him.

"That's my designation. Not that you should care."

"And I repeat—what? That's not a name, it's a serial number."

The parasite didn't respond.

"Fine, you know what? I'll take over. What do you think about…Steven?"

It growled, the sound grating and unnatural with Peter's high voice.

"So that's a no to Steven? How about Paul?"

There was a pause as the parasite continued stalking through the trees. It seemed to be looking for something. Then he seemed to find it, leaning down and doing something that Peter wasn't allowed to see, and a mechanical whirr filled the air. The forest floor started to retract, leaving an open hatch and a brightly lit corridor stretching into the earth.

"The scientists had a word for me, when they finally figured out how to create me," the creature said finally, and Peter was so surprised to actually get an answer that he almost forgot to say something in return.

"Woah, okay," he said. "What was it?"

It started to descend into the corridor, sealing the hatch behind him. "They liked to call me Venom."

"Venom," Peter tested. "Yeah, I think that fits pretty well. Okay then, Venom, I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where you're taking us?"

"There is no us! Soon there will only be me."

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Great, thanks. What happened to all that talk about how we'd be together or whatever?"

Venom snarled at him. "Simply a trick, so you might embrace my influence even faster. Now, stay where you are! I want you to see this. The emotional turmoil will be…entertaining."

"Great," he huffed again. "So I'm just stuck here while you find your masters. Who are they, anyway?"

"You really haven't realized?"

Peter was trying really hard not to realize, actually. He kind of already knew (Venom had been located in a HYDRA base, after all), but he'd heard the horror stories and he really didn't want to figure out where he was and what was probably going to happen to him.

Venom said he was going to absorb me, he remembered. So maybe it won't hurt. Maybe I won't be tortured. Maybe…I'll just be gone by the time he uses me to hurt the Avengers again.

But no, he couldn't think like that. He was going to fight. He was going to fight, and he was going to keep Venom from hurting his friends.

Except I have been fighting. I've been fighting for days, and I can't get Venom to budge even a little bit. I…I might be in over my head.

And again, he reminded himself that he couldn't think like that. If he let himself lose hope, it really would be over. He had to stay strong for as long as possible, fight against assimilation until he didn't have any strength left. If he could gain control during a single crucial moment, he could turn the tides. He had to hold out for that moment.

"Nothing to say?" Venom asked. "Fine. We're almost there."

Peter could do nothing but sit back and watch as his body was carried through cold, sterile corridors and through empty common rooms. It looked like a bunker, one that only grew colder and more abysmal as he moved deeper.

And then, just like that, they were there.

There was a huge room in the depths of the earth, a yawning cavern bustling with people dressed in dark uniforms, weapons slung over their shoulders. There were stacks of crates in the corner that were in the process of being unloaded, and Peter's eyes went wide as he recognized the machinery from the Avengers' raid on the last base. Or at least, replicas of that machinery. He wondered how much of Venom was left behind, if he could infect more than one person at a time. How many other people were in danger.

That wasn't where Venom's focus was, though. His eyes locked onto a tall, slender figure in the center of the room, and Peter felt his satisfaction. "I've returned," he growled, and though the figure was clear across the room he seemed to hear it. He turned, and Peter gulped.

That's not a normal HYDRA agent, Peter thought, looking the man up and down. His demeanor screamed authority, from his pointed nose to his polished shoes. He looked like an official, and not one Peter wanted to cross paths with.

Unfortunately that wasn't going to be an option.

The man's face broke out in an oily grin as he spotted Venom. "My son, you've returned! How fortuitous."

Peter kept a weary eye on his surroundings as Venom drew closer, showing no fear. And of course he wasn't showing fear—that man was his creator.

"I carried out the first phase of the mission," Venom reported smoothly. "I've brought an Avenger."

The man scrutinized Peter with a frown. He reached out and poked one of his cheeks, then ran his fingers down one of his arms. The black goop parted to the man's fingers, then resettled the instant he drew away. Unfortunately Peter felt no shift in Venom's control, even with the momentary reatreat of the contagion.

Finally, the man drew back. "A bit young, isn't he? Which one is it, then?"

"The Spider-Man."

"Oh?" The man gave him another look. "He's young."

"It won't matter soon enough. He is well loved by the Avengers, and the others will come here to retrieve him."

A hand clasped to Peter's shoulder momentarily, then drew away. "I trust you, my boy. We will have a thorough debriefing later about your…" He paused. "Your success, as it were. How far along is the assimilation process?"

Peter cringed at the word, but Venom was already speaking. "I am several days into the process, however this one is quite strong. He's enhanced."

"The healing," the man said knowingly. "I understand. In any case he will be gone soon enough, and you will have absorbed his strength."

So I was right. He's taking on my power.

Then he paused. Wait…if this thing can absorb superheroes' powers just by infecting them and waiting…

"Soon you will have many forms," the man said, "and you will be strong. You will assimilate the Avengers and become HYDRA's ultimate weapon!"

That's it. They're trying to lure the Avengers here and infect them, too. If that happens, there won't be anyone left to protect the world from HYDRA. It'll be over.

Peter jolted as Venom's voice sounded in his head, responding to his terror. All we needed was a single one of you to fall into me, and it just so happened to be you. From there, I just had to wait for you to give in and then make a scene so that the other Avengers knew something was wrong. I dropped the hint about Germany, and soon enough…

Peter wanted nothing more than to throw up, but he couldn't. He was trapped in his own body.

Venom dipped his head to the man. "Is there anything else you require of me, father? If not, I wish to retire to my quarters to digest my prey."

Oh god oh god oh god!

"You're free to go," the man said simply. "Your only job is to stay here and lure the Avengers to us, when we might infect the rest of them and add them to your collective mind."

"Just what I wanted to hear."

The man turned, raising a hand. "Soldier!"

Peter caught a flicker of movement from the throng of agents, then a man was stepping forward. His hair was tucked into a military cap, and there was some kind of paint on his face, but there was something eerily familiar about his bone structure. There was a glint of metal poking from his sleeve, right where his fingers were supposed to be.

Holy sh—oh no, no, can't swear, Mr. Stark would kill me—but oh, man! Is that…?

"Yes, sir?"

Oh my god, it is. It's him.

The man gestured to Peter. "Show your brother in arms to his new rooms, then report back for further orders. Understood?"

"Of course, I—"

But there was no more, because Bucky had just turned and gotten an eyeful of Peter and frozen in place.

The man frowned. "Soldier?"

Bucky shook himself, and the recognition was gone as soon as it had appeared. "At once, sir."

"Good man. Now get out of here!"

Peter watched in shock as Bucky said something to Venom about which way they were headed, then started to lead him away. What was he doing here? He knew he wasn't really working for HYDRA, not after all the shit that had gone down during the incidents around the Sokovia Accords. He was an Avenger through and through, so what he was he doing here? In a HYDRA base in the middle of Germany, and Cap hadn't said a thing about it to any of them. Did he know? Or was Peter misreading the situation, and Bucky actually did want to be there?

The walk to Venom's quarters turned out to be extremely uncomfortable. Peter kept waiting for Bucky to give him some sign that he wasn't really working for HYDRA, because of course he had to have recognized Peter the instant he saw him, they'd spent time together before he'd just up and vanished a few months back (Steve had said he was on some kind of trip to Wakanda, but now that didn't seem so likely), but there was nothing. Bucky walked with his shoulders squared and his fingers curled into fists, and Peter followed because he had no other choice.

Then again…why would Bucky say anything? Peter knew how he must look, with his weird goopy bodysuit and a vicious gleam in his eyes. Maybe Bucky already knew what Venom was, and understood what was happening. Maybe he knew that Peter was already a lost cause.

And, well…when he put it like that, he just wanted to cry even more.

"Your rooms, sir," Bucky said, gesturing to a closed door.

Venom gave him an uninterested hum and opened the door. Peter wanted to scream. Someone he knew was right there, someone that could help him, but he had no way to ask for that help. He had no way to let Bucky know that he was there.

Please—please! You have to figure this out! I'm in here, I really am, I promise! I need your help! Please…you're the only one that knows where I am!

But Venom made no move to stop, and Bucky made no move to stay, and soon enough it was too late.

It was midnight when Tony got the call, hanging over Germany in a miniaturized version of the helicarrier.

He was lounging on the sofa as the rest of the team bickered over some kind of card game (a sad attempt to forget the gravity of their situation, and one that was barely working) when his phone blinked at him, and FRIDAY's voice in his ear told him that he was getting a call from an unknown number.

So of course, he answered it. Because if it had something to do with Peter, he wanted to know.

He regretted it the instant he picked up the line.

"Stark."

Barnes, he didn't say, because that would let Cap know that his BFF was calling from wherever he'd scuttled off to after going on a trip to Wakanda a few months back, and then he'd demand to talk to him and things would just get real messy real fast. So instead he said, "How's the arm?"

"Very original, Stark, I appreciate it."

"You'd better, tin man. Or if not that, appreciate the fact that I'm not calling S.H.I.E.L.D. on you right now. They're convinced you're back off doing something evil."

"We don't have time for this. Listen to me."

"Listen to you? After the stunt you pulled, vanishing into thin air without so much as a thank you note? We got your ass pardoned by pretty much every world government, so you'd better be thankful. Do you have any idea how many forms I was handed to sign? You know I hate being handed things."

"Stark, listen!"

"Tell me where you are, then I'll listen. I think you owe us that much."

"We really don't have time for this."

"Then what do we have time for?"

Bucky huffed on the other end of the line, fed up. "Look, just…are you missing something? Something important?"

Tony's blood ran cold. "What?"

"You heard me, Stark. Lose something?"

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about—"

"I have a lock on your kid."

And there it was—the sucker punch to the gut. "Where is he? Is he okay?" And oh, he sounded far too calm for the situation. He felt almost numb, like he couldn't believe it was happening.

"He's…look, you're not going to like this, but he's here. He's where I am."

"Which brings me back to the million dollar question—where are you?"

A pause. Then, "HYDRA."

Oh, no—there was the sucker punch. We were right, he thought. Peter's with HYDRA. They're going to use him as a bargaining chip. They're going to torture him.

"He just showed up out of nowhere," Bucky said. "Covered in this black goop and grinning like a madman. I…I'm not sure it was even him. Stark, what's going on?"

"I'll explain later—just like you're going to explain what the hell you're doing in a HYDRA base! For now I need you to give me every detail of that conversation, and I need you to do it now."

Steve shifted behind him, and Tony realized he'd gone from whispering to yelling. So much for keeping the cat in the bag.

"Tony?" Steve said. And oh boy, the rest of the Avengers were staring at him too. Joy. "Who's on the line?"

He hesitated for a moment, even though there was really only one answer. But that didn't make it any easier to say, because of course Cap was on his feet in a heartbeat and tearing the phone out of his hand and blabbering nonsense when he could be getting answers.

Tony dropped his head into his hands and groaned. This was going to be a long, painful conversation.

But…if it meant they knew where Peter was, it would all be worth it.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Bucky didn't know much more than the rest of the Avengers.

"He just showed up," he said, repeating what he'd already said to Tony. "Covered in tar and grinning like he'd just gotten away with murder. It was disturbing. Roland—that's the head of the branch I've infiltrated—called him his son. I…I've heard rumors of the Venom Project, or Experiment 0600Y, but I'd never seen proof of it until now. This is very, very bad."

And of course that had led to a thousand other questions, about what exactly Bucky was doing infiltrating a HYDRA base with a completely conspicuous metal arm, and Bucky had responded by assuring them that he was fine. Apparently there was more than one soldier with a prosthetic arm in HYDRA, and as long as he kept his face mostly covered and his hair tucked up no one seemed to recognize him or care. He was just another soldier.

"I was trying to get a map of the remaining bases," he explained when asked. "I thought going in alone would be safest. I thought it'd be in and out. But now…I realize why I had to stay."

…Which led to more questions, mostly from a furious Captain America, and really it was just a complete disaster. They learned everything Bucky knew about the Venom Project, which wasn't much more than the knowledge that the parasite attached to people and drained them dry, and after that they picked up Peter's location and shot off in that direction.

"I'd hurry," Bucky cautioned them as they started to move. "I've only snuck glimpses of the reports on this thing since I found out about it, but I know how deadly it is. It will kill him."

And really, that was the best motivator of all.

Now that Peter knew Venom's true plan—or at least, his master's plan—he was even more desperate to escape. He'd been shoved back into that tiny room inside his head so Venom could rest, and now he was scrabbling at the walls again in an attempt to break free. Every attempt earned him nothing more than an irritated outburst from Venom and violent rumbling in the walls, after which they tended to shrink in just a little bit more.

It was a stark reminder of his dwindling time, and he hated it. Every time the walls closed in he felt just a little more claustrophobic, and just a bit shakier on his feet. He wasn't sure if it was because of the claustrophobia or because of the fact that his body was slowly being sapped of energy.

He wondered how long it would take for his organs to begin shutting down. He wondered if he would feel it.

Peter was so caught up in his own misery that he didn't realize how much time was passing. When he opened his eyes he was suddenly aware that Venom was in the middle of his debriefing, and although he wasn't allowed to hear or see what was going on he did understand that that strange man from earlier was angry with Venom about something. Then he closed his eyes again and drifted, and the next time he returned to a semi-conscious state (because how conscious could he really be without his true sight, his hearing?) there were alarms blaring. The volume was strangely lowered in Venom's room for some reason that Peter couldn't imagine.

"Do you hear that?" Venom asked with Peter's voice, muscles curling into a disgusting smirk. "Your friends are here for you. Let's take them down, together."

Peter lurched to his feet, ready to attack the door again, and was immediately floored by a wave of fatigue.

Venom laughed. "Not feeling too good? Hmm, perhaps your body is starting to shut down. Soon I won't be able to keep this pretty face of yours exposed. I'll have to cover it right up so you don't horrify the soldiers with your decaying flesh."

Peter buried his head in his knees and tried not to cry. He knew that he had to be strong, but he thought he was reaching his breaking point. He was sick and tired and he just wanted to sleep. And he couldn't. He couldn't let that happen.

Venom moved, and Peter was allowed to see what he saw even if he didn't want to. He didn't want to watch himself hurt his teammates. He didn't want to see the disappointment on their faces.

Then fight it. You have to fight!

Peter lurched to his feet, leaning on the wall. Yes…he had to fight. He had to ram himself against the door as many times as it took. He had to break free. He…he had to…

Venom moved with deadly efficiency toward the surface. HYDRA agents were already swarming to accompany him, and Peter's stomach sank as he saw what looked like vials of the same black goop Venom was made of. If even a drop of that stuff got on the Avengers, it was over.

"You know the plan," came a familiar voice, and Peter saw that same man from before as Venom turned his head. Roland, he thought his name was. "You put them down, we'll make sure they stay that way."

Venom nodded. "You won't be disappointed."

They headed for the forest. Peter thought he caught a glimpse of Bucky as they ascended, nearly unrecognizable with his hair pinned up and his metal arm covered beneath thick fabric, but the next moment he was lost in the crowd. He hoped he would be safe, that he was still on the Avengers' side, that he hadn't turned against them out of the blue.

Soon that didn't matter, though, as the hatch in the forest floor opened and Peter was suddenly staring at the sky.

"Looks like they're already here," Venom purred. He raised a hand and pointed, and Peter's breath was taken away by the sight of the helicarrier floating maybe a mile off in the sky.

In the distance, blue lights flared. Peter couldn't help a relieved smile. Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, I'm here! I…

Venom rippled like a wave, the black goop shifting like the second skin it was, and Peter felt another wave of fatigue as the parasite readied for battle. It was draining him, he realized. Drawing on his energy in preparation for a fight.

"Mr. Stark!" Venom called then, moving forward with his arms spread wide. The HYDRA agents were lurking in the tunnels below, keeping their distance but more than capable of causing trouble. Peter knew they were probably waiting for Venom to put the Avengers on the ground, at which point they'd spring out and infect them with those vials of contagion.

The forest gave no reply to Venom's call. The helicarrier was there, but the Avengers were nowhere to be found.

"Too afraid to face me?" Venom called, baring his teeth. "Come on, what happened to all the might of the Avengers?"

The hair on the back of Peter's neck stood up. They're here!

Unfortunately, Venom knew that as well. He whirled, hand outstretched, and caught Cap's shield a heartbeat before it would have cracked into his skull.

Damn it, Peter thought, that would have knocked me clean out. Come on, guys, you have to do better than that! You have to take me down!

"So close," Venom hummed. He lowered the shield to his side and looked out into the forest, where the projectile had come from. "I know you're there, Captain Rogers! You might as well come out and face your fate."

There was this long, awful pause where nothing moved. Then the branches parted, and Steve Rogers was stepping into view. His expression was nothing short of deadly.

"Peter," he said, raising a hand. His shield ripped itself out of Venom's hand and returned to its rightful place on his arm.

"Steve," Venom mocked, squaring his shoulders at the man. "Here to dance?"

"Here to stop you," was the biting response. "It's okay, Peter—we know you're infected. We know you can't control what you're doing right now."

Yes! Peter placed his palms flat on the door to his cell, pressing as hard as he could. They knew! If he could just get out for half a second he could warn them that it was going to happen to them, too. He could warn them about the Hydra agents waiting below ground. He could save them.

"Useless," Venom snarled. "You're talking like he's still here, but I've already begun to absorb him. It won't be long until he's dead, and he certainly can't hear you. Give up, Captain America."

What? No, no—I can hear you! Don't give up, I'm still here!

Steve's expression didn't change. He held his shield in front of him, widened his stance, and stayed there. "We're working on a cure, and once we capture you we can implement it. You're going to be okay, Peter."

"He's not here!" Venom hissed. "You will attack me, Steve Rogers, and I will fight you with his body, and he will die as a result. He is already on his way."

Still, Steve's features were set in stone. "Fine. We'll take you in the hard way."

Oh boy.

Peter had about a half second to realize he was in danger before Venom was whipping around and letting Black Widow crash past him, nearly hitting Steve as she stumbled. But of course she was Black Widow, so she regained her footing in a heartbeat and sprung at him again.

Careful! Peter thought as she approached, throwing punches and doing her best to sweep his legs from out underneath him. He had no idea how the process of infection worked, if Natasha could become contaminated just from touching the goop on his arms, but he didn't want to find out. But Natasha was smart, had all of her skin covered except for her neck and her face, and so there was little danger in her attempts to take Venom down. Or at least, there wasn't danger via goopy black science experiment. Danger via punching, of course…

Peter's heart skipped a beat as Venom landed a real hit, throwing the assassin back into Steve. The two staggered, Natasha went down momentarily, and the next moment Venom was turning at the speed of light and catching an arrow between his fingers.

"Predictable," Venom snarled. "Boring."

Steve huffed and put a finger to his ear. "Guys, what did we say about going easy on him this time?"

A pause. Then a response, so quiet that Peter's enhanced hearing could hardly pick it up. "Don't."

Then, chaos.

Peter recoiled in shock as a pair of feet landed themselves in his back and smashed him into the ground, vanishing a moment later as the person—Falcon, he thought—rose back into the sky with a hand pressed to his gauntlet. Venom moved to get up, but the next moment there were hands on his arms and restraints being latched onto one wrist, and Peter felt the dizzying surge of anger that resulted from it. Stunned, he slumped against the wall of his cell as Venom took a deep breath and heaved with all his strength.

"Hey!" yelped Steve as he was thrown off, and Peter's stomach sank as he watched Venom rise and rip off the metal restraints without breaking a sweat.

"Try harder," Venom advised. Peter didn't miss the way his eyes flickered back to where the HYDRA agents were waiting.

Right—the mission is to floor them and infect them. The instant those guys have an opening, they'll attack.

"You want us to try harder?" Steve snapped. "Fine!"

Peter gasped as scarlet power wreathed around him, pressing his arms close to his sides and keeping them there. He felt the drain on his body as Venom smirked, strained against the bonds, and broke them like they were nothing. Wanda was thrown back with a screech by the resulting feedback, and then Vision was taking her place and firing at Peter like he was just another common criminal. Which right now, he supposed, he kind of was.

"Don't hurt him!" called a familiar voice, and Peter slammed his fists against the door because he knew that voice, and he never wanted to hurt the person on the other end of it.

"We don't have a choice, Tony! Guys, bring him down!"

Vision fired again, and Venom flipped out of the way without a care in the world. Peter had a feeling that if the beam hit him, it would do nothing to hurt Venom and would leave him injured instead. But if that was what it took to bring him in…

Natasha appeared out of nowhere, back in the game. She lashed out when Venom flipped out of the way of another blast from Vision, and the parasite actually faltered when she landed a punch to his stomach. But it only lasted a minute before he was retaliating with a kick to the shin and a shove to the shoulders that she almost managed to dodge, and then Venom was slamming his fist into an approaching Captain America. Cap tried to bash him with his shield in response, but all Venom had to do was throw out a hand to stop it. Sam came in with his guns drawn, but his fear of killing Peter meant that the bullets were rubber and they bounced right off of Venom's goopy outer skin. The parasite leapt, grabbed, and the next moment one of Falcon's wings was sparking.

"This is not happening," Natasha gasped, setting a hand over her stomach. "Guys, we took out Ultron. We destroyed an entire army of aliens! We can capture a seventeen-year-old kid."

"Tell that to the kid!"

Venom grinned, smashing a fist into Cap's shield that made the whole clearing ring, and Peter banged his fists against the door again. Nothing gave, though, and he came away clutching his head. He felt a bit faint.

Steve looked up. "Tony, we need you here!"

Peter blinked hard, forcing the faintness to the outer edges of his mind, and focused on the battle. Tony…where was Tony? He could stop him.

There was a familiar sound from behind him, and Venom didn't know what it was, and Peter didn't warn him. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain.

When the strike came, it wasn't at even half capacity. Peter thought he probably should have known that Tony wouldn't be able to hit him, but he was still disappointed as Venom faltered, considered, then laughed.

"Mr. Stark," he said, and Peter threw himself at the door because he wasn't allowed to call Mr. Stark that, it would only hurt him!

Tony landed in front of him, hands raised, the palms of his suit glowing blue. Peter couldn't see his face, but he knew it couldn't have been happy. Everyone else had gone completely still.

Tony leveled his repulsors at him. "Kid, I don't want to do this."

"Oh, but I do!" Venom spread his arms, leaving Peter's chest an open target. "Why don't you take your best shot? I'm sure your protégé will thank you. You'll be putting him out of his misery."

Tony choked a little. Peter wished his hearing wasn't so good that he heard it.

"You'll kill him trying to capture me," Venom proclaimed. "Every single hit goes right to him, and all of my energy comes from his very essence. And he was feeling quite dizzy earlier, so who knows how far along he is?"

"Tony," Steve murmured, "the longer we wait the worse he'll get. We have to act now."

There was this awful pause, where Peter looked at Tony though eyes that didn't feel like his own, and he wasn't sure his mentor was going to do it. He thought he was going to walk away and say that he refused to fight him, when it was so obvious that his aid was needed.

But that wasn't what happened.

In the end Tony steeled himself, gave a sharp nod to Steve, and fired at Peter with everything he had.

Venom flipped to one side, and the blasts seared through a few tree trunks. They fell, everyone scattering, and something must have been smiling down upon Peter in that moment because they fell right over the hatch where all the HYDRA agents were waiting. The heaviest parts of the trunk settled right over the opening, and Peter realized with a spark of hope that they were trapped.

Venom narrowed his eyes. "No."

Because of course, that ruined the whole plan. The contagion was trapped below ground, as the HYDRA agents struggled to lift the heavy trunks, and as Venom moved to lift them he was cut off by Vision and Wanda.

Yes! In his excitement, Peter almost forgot that he was supposed to keep trying to break down the door to his cell. Keep him away from the hatch, guys, you can do this! You can take him down!

"Not so fast there, son," Steve said, and Venom turned in surprise as Cap appeared out of nowhere and drove the edge of the shield into his side. Venom hissed, rolled, and sprung back to his feet. He moved for the hatch again, but Vision was still there and firing at him with no remorse. Wanda raised a hand, and Venom's feet flew out from under him.

Falcon was there. Tiny explosions rained down on Peter's back, reflecting off of the black goop. On his other side, Natasha was on her feet and slamming a foot into his ribcage. One of Vision's energy blasts hit the ground at Venom's side, stopping him from rolling away, and Steve smashed the shield into the ground at his other side to keep him there.

"No, no, no! You are all beneath me!"

Tony's voice was grim. "The last guy that said that to us didn't end up in a good place."

Venom snarled, and then Peter was crying out and staggering as he sucked up energy like a sponge. The tide of battle turned in a snap.

First it was Natasha. Venom rolled up like a sinuous wave and nailed her in the stomach with a knee. Then he threw her again, crashing into Vision, and the two of them were flung to the ground. A kick sent Wanda flying. Venom rammed his shoulder into Steve as he moved to help her, tore his fingers down his front and somehow managed to slash, the goop solidifying into claws, and he went down too. Another slash took out Falcon's other wing, and he slammed into the ground.

Arrows rained. But these too were halted, as Venom snatched up Cap's discarded shield and chucked it into the tree that was serving as Hawkeye's perch. The archer yelped in shock, fell, and stayed down.

"This isn't working!" Steve gasped, clutching at his side. "Any new ideas are appreciated!"

Venom moved for the hatch again, but Tony was immediately in his path. "Wanda!" he called, firing at Venom as he approached. "You put him down the first time he lapsed, right? Can you do it again?"

Wanda, in the process of dragging herself to her feet, shook her head. "I can't, Stark. Don't you think I've already tried? The first time was different; he hadn't yet regressed into this form. Now Peter is hidden, and this creature has no mind to seduce. I'm sorry."

Venom reached for Tony, ready to tear his arm clean off, but the man darted to one side and shot him in the side with beams of blue light. Peter hissed, but Venom didn't make a sound. He had no nerves with which to feel the pain.

"Tony! Plan, now!"

"Why me?" he complained, catching the next punch Venom threw (though not without difficulty) and driving a knee up into his stomach.

"That suit is packed with fancy tech, right?" Natasha asked, out of breath. She was still down. "Use it!"

"Yeah, but it'll hurt—!"

"We are so, so beyond that. Take him down, Tony!"

Tony hesitated.

"Don't do it, Mr. Stark," Venom teased, softening his expression until he really resembled Peter. "I'm like a son to you, right? You wouldn't hurt your own son."

Tony's body language shifted, grew almost pained, and Peter was afraid. But not for long, because the next moment Tony was looking to the sky and saying something that made his heart flutter with hope.

"FRIDAY," he said, "deploy Veronica. Now."

"Tony, that's containment tech meant for the Hulk! He'll just tear through it again, like he tore through the window coverings!"

"No. No, he won't."

Venom smirked, unconvinced, but Peter knew better. He'd been there when Tony had redesigned Veronica, had made the suggestion himself to add vibranium plating to the interior of the containment unit. It had been expensive, but they were friends with Wakanda at that point so it wasn't too hard to get their hands on the stuff. Veronica had been improved and shot back into space, and there it waited for the perfect opportunity.

Tony raised his hands as Venom made a move to attack him again. "I hadn't considered it. I'd…I'd forgotten the modifications, but I think this can work. But we have to keep him still, guys!"

"On it!"

From our location, it'll only take a minute or two for the containment unit to get here. Peter pressed his palms to the door and closed his eyes. They just have to hold you until then, Venom.

So that's what they did. Peter watched, fighting as hard as he could to bust down the door as Venom attempted to take down the Avengers. He watched as he snapped a bone in Falcon's arm, stomped on his chest so hard he thought he felt ribs cracking. He watched as he managed to deal Steve a nasty slash down the side, growing more and more desperate to reach the hatch and free the HYDRA agents that none of the Avengers even knew were there, waiting to infect them. He watched as Venom twisted, writhed, slammed a fist into Tony's chestplate until the metal caved.

"Ten seconds inbound. Wanda, now!"

Then they all drew back, and Peter was confused until Wanda reached out and pulled with all her strength.

Venom slammed to the ground and stayed there. Scarlet wreathed around his wrists and ankles, anchoring him to the forest floor, and by the time he thought to fight it was too late. Veronica had fallen down around him, one plate at a time, and in a matter of moments Peter's vision went completely black in the confines of the sealed chamber.

"You think this can hold me?" Venom roared, snapping Wanda's restraints like twigs and lurching to his feet. "I broke free from your attempts at containment before!"

Yeah, Peter muttered, but this isn't a normal containment unit.

Venom ignored him, wound back for a punch, and slammed his fist into the wall of the shell.

And Peter screeched. No, no, no—that hurt so much, Venom, stop it! You can't break it!

Venom recoiled, holding his arm. "What—what was that?"

There was a knock from the outside of the shell. "That's vibranium plating," came the voice of Tony Stark. "Kind of forgot that I put that in there, because it wasn't my idea. Peter…he's a brilliant kid. And we're going to get you away from him."

Peter tried and failed to reach out for him. Mr. Stark…

Venom bared his teeth and threw another punch, but nothing gave. The stuff didn't even dent. "Let me out! I have a plan, I'm supposed to take you down, I can't fail my father!"

Tony's voice grew muffled, like he was walking away. "Steve, call it in. We'll need to lift this thing out of here under top security."

"Where are we going to keep him?"

"For now? The lab."

There was a pause, and Peter guessed that Steve was doing as he'd been asked. Then, "The med team and an escort are on their way. We'll have the kid back to base in no time, and Bruce can work on him from there."

"We'll have to plate the jail cell with vibranium on all walls," Tony said. "I hope Wakanda is feeling friendly."

"Let's hope they are, otherwise this is going to be very, very difficult."

"Unfortunately."

And that was all he heard. The rest of the voices were muffled, fading into nothing as Peter finally let himself slump against the back wall of his cell. Venom was still pacing, but that was a world away.

Reassured that he wouldn't be killing anyone anytime soon, Peter let himself slip away to rest.

The next day was a blur of movement, and Tony was in the center of all of it. They got Peter transported back to base, safely inside the vibranium containment unit, and by the time they did the engineers had put together the jail cell so that Peter couldn't break out.

It was immaculate. Vibranium plated walls, ceiling, and floor, a dozen cameras for observation, and a door that didn't open unless you went through eighteen layers of security. Peter wouldn't be getting out, and they'd use what time they had left to design a cure.

They released the kid into the cell about one day after locking him inside the containment unit. All they did was hook up the unit to the cell, release one of the plates, and let Peter walk right out. Then they sealed it up quick, before he realized what was going on, and he was trapped. There was venom in his eyes as he glared at the cameras, but he didn't smash them.

"So this is to be my fate?" Venom snarled, the microphones picking him up perfectly. His voice was overly loud in the control room, where Tony stood now. "Locked up here with nothing to do but wait? What exactly do you think you're going to be able to do to stop me? Your child is already fading, and I'm only growing stronger as he succumbs. You won't see him again."

Tony closed his eyes and chose not to respond. He knew that it was a lie. Or at least, he desperately hoped so. Bruce was still working on a cure, one that was seeming more and more impossible with every passing day, and their only other option to get the thing off of Peter involved killing him with freezing cold or lack of oxygen. It wasn't looking good. But surely there would be something, especially with Wakandan scientists helping.

"I'm designing a solution either way," Bruce had said when they returned, upon hearing what had happened. "I'm going to have Wakanda put together a vibranium-enforced chamber that can suck the oxygen out of the air, or remove all heat. If…if we lose Peter, and we need a way to put that parasite to sleep, we can use it."

Tony had argued, but it was an argument he had lost. Bruce passed off plans to designers in Wakanda, who were more than happy to help after hearing what was going on. They assured them that soon the chamber would be delivered to the compound. In the meantime, Bruce continued to work on a real cure. One that wouldn't leave Peter dead.

If that was even possible. Only time would tell.

And…time wasn't exactly something they had enough of.

Chapter Text

The next time Peter opened his eyes, he was overwhelmed by the purest sense of exhaustion he'd ever felt.

That was really the only word for it. The previous day's battle had taken a lot out of him, as had the frantic pounding against the side of the containment unit, and he felt sluggish and weak and terrible. He kept sleeping, hoping that it would help him regain his strength, but it wasn't happening. He just felt more and more tired every time he awoke.

Though he didn't want to admit it, he knew what that meant. He knew that his body was beginning to shut down.

The Avengers only had a few days at best.

Until then, Peter waited. Venom paced up and down endlessly, knocking at the walls and just draining him further, and Peter tried to curl into a ball and conserve energy. If he let himself really think about it, he knew that he was probably already dead. If he was too exhausted to fight, and all he could do was lie there and grow more and more exhausted, then it seemed like the book was already closed. He was caught in a cycle that allowed for no escape.

He wished he had gotten to say goodbye to the team. To Tony.

I'm sorry, he thought, curling up tighter. I wanted to be stronger than this. I wanted to fight.

Of course, he knew to that Tony's response would be, "Then fight. Be stronger than you thought you could be."

Peter ran his fingertips across the floor of his cell, tears in his eyes. He was sick and injured and he wanted to go home. The fact that he couldn't just made it hurt more.

He couldn't even see what was going on anymore. He knew that Bruce was probably working on a cure, and Tony was worrying, and Steve was consoling, but other than that all he had to look at was the floor of his cell.

He didn't get up. He didn't have the strength to fight.

"I'm just asking you to talk to the thing," Steve said, facing Tony down with crossed arms. "Maybe being in the same room with him will unlock some kind of cosmic mystery about what it really is. Maybe you'll learn something that will help Bruce develop a cure."

Of course, that was pretty much the worst idea Tony had ever heard.

"Let me get this straight," he said, moving a bit stiffly due to the expansive bruises over his chest. The kid had hit him hard, and his whole body felt like he'd been run through a wood chipper. He wished it hurt more than the pain of knowing that Peter was dying, and that he was unable to help him. "You want me to walk in there and talk to the thing that's eating the kid alive. You want me to have a pleasant conversation with a parasite."

"You know him best, Tony. You might be able to pick something up."

"Let me think—no. I'm not doing that. If you send me in there I'm going to try to tear the thing off of him, and that won't end well for anyone involved."

Steve groaned. "Tony. You have to do this. Not only do you know him best, he knows you. If anything is going to give him the strength to fight this thing, it's going to be knowing that someone he cares about is waiting for him."

Tony's chest constricted. "Geez, why'd you have to get so sentimental about it?"

Steve said nothing. He knew he'd won.

He tapped his fingers against the table restlessly. "Okay, fine. I'll go in and talk to him, but I want him restrained when I do. He's too strong to handle even with the suit."

"Deal. I'll have him in vibranium restraints before you so much as look at the door."

So that's what he did. Tony didn't know how he managed it, but a few hours later he was walking into the cell to the sight of Peter locked against the wall. He looked mildly annoyed, like he could break out at any time but was choosing to humor them, even though Tony knew that wasn't true. Not even the parasite's freakish strength could break pure vibranium.

"The hero arrives," the parasite observed as Tony stood before him.

Tony grit his teeth, keeping his arms closed tight over his chest. He knew that the thing couldn't hurt him, but it was still making him sick to his stomach to look into Peter's eyes and know that it wasn't really him.

Peter's expression twisted into one of contempt. It looked wrong on him. "Did they send you here to question me? To see if I'd give anything up about my nature, how to get rid of me?"

He stayed quiet.

"Did they think that I'd be weakened by your presence? The child cares for you, Iron Man. He wants to fight, but he cannot. It is too late for him."

"That's bullshit," Tony snapped, taking an almost involuntary step forward. "It's never too late for that kid to do anything. He's stronger than you."

The parasite smiled now, but it was an unnatural smile. The muscles didn't look like they were moving quite right. "If he were stronger than me, he would have already expelled me from his body. Instead he's trapped, dying and afraid, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Deep breaths, he told himself, because there was panic welling up in his chest and he had to get a hold on it before he did something foolish. "What's your MO?" he asked to distract himself. "The reason you get up in the morning." Then he cringed, because he'd asked that same question to Peter the first time they'd met and now it was being turned against him.

The parasite cocked his head. "My purpose," he said, "is to destroy the Avengers. Isn't it obvious?"

"No, actually. We kind of thought you had taken Peter as a bargaining chip, that you were going to disengage from him once you reached HYDRA and use him to get to us."

"Impossible. Once assimilation begins, separation is impossible."

He'd taken the bait, but Tony almost wished he hadn't. He didn't want it to be true. "So I guess HYDRA made you, then. As a weapon against us."

"Perhaps. It makes no difference who made me; I know who I serve."

Okay, well that wasn't ominous at all.

The parasite's muscles strained a bit, and Tony realized that he was testing the restraints. They didn't give. "Regardless of whether or not you know my plan, it will come to pass. So please, ask away."

"I suppose you have a plan to get out of here?" Tony pressed.

"HYDRA is my plan. They will come for me."

"You failed them. You really think they'll care?"

The parasite's smile only grew larger. "I am something unlike anything you've ever seen, Tony Stark. I have your protégé. Soon I will have the rest of you as well."

Something clicked in Tony's head. "It's mass contamination you're after."

"Of course. Your child will make me strong, but not nearly strong enough for HYDRA's purposes. Once I've dissolved him into nothing, I will move on to the rest of you."

"So you're what, absorbing his strength?"

It pressed its lips together and said nothing.

Tony raised a brow. "I'll take that is a yes. While we're at it, I don't suppose you have any leads on how to destroy you? You know, if the separating you from Peter thing goes south. Which it won't."

"Impossible. I can't be destroyed, so long as there is but one cell of my being left in existence."

"Regenerative abilities, check." Tony shot a glance at the camera in the corner. "We have to obliterate every last bit of you."

"Don't sound so optimistic, Tony. Doing that will kill the boy."

"Yeah that's becoming a common theme, thanks."

"I'm already in his lungs. I think I'll hold off on collapsing them, though. I'll hold off until I've shut off every other non-essential organ, then I'll poke a few holes so you can watch him asphyxiate. I'll leave his face exposed, how about that? Then, once he's dead I'll cover all of him up and finish dissolving his flesh."

Maybe I should have brought a barf bag.

"You'll realize it soon enough," the parasite went on. "The longer you keep me here the weaker he'll get. Sooner or later he'll die, and soon after that either I'll infect you or HYDRA will. And then you'll finally see him again."

It wasn't as comforting as the parasite seemed to think it was.

"However…"

Tony looked up.

"I might be persuaded to let you see him again before he goes, for the right price."

He let it sink in for a moment. He knew that any price would be too high by the parasite's standards, but the thought of seeing Peter again…of telling him that it wasn't his fault, that he was loved, that he was going to be rescued…

"I'm listening," Tony said. His mouth was dry.

The parasite raised a brow. "I'm surprised. You truly care for the boy."

"Tell me what you want," Tony said shortly.

"The suit."

The…the suit? What suit? One of the iron suits?

"You look confused, Tony Stark."

"Yeah, I—I'm sorry, but are you seriously trying to ask for one of my suits? As if that's something I'd ever give you, or even something you'd need?"

The parasite laughed and said, "Of course not. I'm not so foolhardy as to think you'd submit to such a thing. No…I want one of his suits. One of the child's."

"You…" Tony trailed off, swallowing hard. There was suddenly a lump in his throat. "You want one of Peter's suits?"

"Yes. And nothing more."

"I'm not giving you webshooters."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"And I'll uninstall the AI before you get within a mile of the thing."

"Of course."

"…Then why even ask for it? It won't be useful to you as a weapon."

"Oh, I know." The parasite leered. "I only want it so that when you have to watch him die he'll go in the suit that you designed for him, an eternal reminder that you were the one that dragged him into this."

He stared, uncomprehending. There was this dark weight in his chest, heavy and oppressive, and he couldn't seem to shake it. He felt numb.

"You're free to take whatever you like out of the suit," the parasite went on. "Alter it in whatever way you like, so long as it is still his suit. So long as it ends up in my hands, I will allow you to see your child for a few moments. It will be…entertaining."

Again, Tony looked to the camera in the corner. He wanted to say yes. Even if it would kill him to watch Peter die in something he'd designed for him, he wanted to say yes because it would mean that he got to speak to him again. But he knew that he needed to at least consult the others, in case there was some kind of evil plan here that he wasn't seeing.

"Let me ask—"

The parasite unfurled his fingers, the bound equivalent of putting a hand over his mouth. "No, Tony Stark. You will make this decision now, or I will withdraw the offer. And when you speak to him, it can only be you."

Tony paused. "You're a real sick son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Is that a no?"

Again, he looked to the camera. But no one had come to stop him, and the microphone hadn't activated with a disapproving voice, so he figured that saying yes couldn't be too bad, could it…?

Tony looked up. "Okay."

"Okay?" the parasite repeated.

"You'll have the suit. It'll be completely stripped of all combat enhancements, including webshooters and the native AI. All it will be is very, very fitted spandex. In return, you're giving me ten minutes with the kid."

"Please. You'll get three, no more, no less."

"Five, or no deal."

"It'll be a deal no matter how much time I give you. But still, I think five minutes can be tolerated. We have a deal."

Something like nervous excitement sparked in Tony's chest. "I'd shake your hand, but I think we both know why that's a bad idea."

"I would crush you."

He shivered. "Yeah, right, that. I'll go get the suit."

He turned, but the parasite was already calling after him. "I'd hurry, Mr. Stark! He's dying."

"This," Natasha said, "is a very bad idea."

"Tell me something I don't know." Tony typed in a few more commands, deleting any lingering combat enhancement programs in the suit. He'd stripped the thing of pretty much everything, leaving behind a rather expensive spandex bodysuit.

"He's manipulating you," she insisted. "And you're just walking into it."

"Yeah, probably. But no one seems to know what he could possibly do with a spandex body suit other than wear it."

"How are we sure that the material won't react with the parasite in some way?"

"Nat, it's spandex. The only thing it's good for is giving the kid a really, really defined—"

"Tony, don't be creepy."

"Sorry, sorry…too far."

"This whole thing has gone too far."

Finally done, Tony disconnected the suit from his computer and tucked the wires back inside. "We should get this down to the kid before it's too late. Bruce isn't exactly close to a cure, and we're not sure how long we have."

Natasha pursed her lips. "I wish you wouldn't do this. We all do."

"Yeah, Cap was pretty clear about that. But Nat…" Tony got to his feet and threw the suit over his shoulder. He carefully kept his face out of sight, knowing that he probably didn't look too stable. "If this thing goes upside down and Bruce can't come up with a cure, I can't just let the kid go out thinking I blame him for this. If he can see what's going on out here, if he knows that he stabbed me and hurt the others, then I know he's blaming himself. Even if he's not in control, he'll think it's his fault. I know he's beating himself up in there."

"Tony…"

"I have to tell him it's not his fault. I have to reassure him, Nat, just in case something goes wrong. He can't die blaming himself."

To anyone else, Natasha probably would have looked just as expressionless as always. But Tony had known her long enough to recognize the slight twitch in her facial muscles for what it was—grief, and underneath it all an overwhelming surge of pity.

"I have to do this," Tony said. "Even if it hurts like hell, that kid is my responsibility and now he's dying because of me."

"Not because of you. If you're going to blame anyone for this, blame HYDRA."

"Yeah. Right."

He started to move for the door, but Natasha stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Tony. I know that you feel responsible for everything all the time, but one of these days you're going to have to understand that you can't control everything. There were forces at play in that compound that you couldn't control."

There was a lump in his throat, and he swallowed hard around it. "I know."

"I just…" Natasha trailed off, shaking her head. "I understand why you feel like you have to do this. But…just promise me you'll be careful. That thing is only letting you see Peter because he knows what it's going to do to you, so don't let it happen."

"I won't," he said, but he knew it was a lie. Talking to Peter would probably wreck him, but it was something he needed to do. He had to see the kid, just to reassure him that it was all okay. They'd find a cure. They had to.

"Okay then," Natasha said, removing her hand and stepping aside. "Good luck."

He went.

By some process that Tony wasn't involved in and didn't want to know, the parasite was set free from his vibranium bonds long enough to discard the stained, tattered remnants of Peter's clothing and replace it with the modified suit. Then he was locked back up so he couldn't kill anyone that entered the room, and Tony was allowed to go in.

"I know you're going to use the time to apologize for something that isn't your fault," Steve said as he was about to enter, "but remember that Peter might be able to give us some valuable information about what this thing is really doing to him. If you can get him to say the right things, you can save the apologizing for when he's cured."

To that Tony had nodded, straightened the protective gear that would keep him from being infected, and walked into the room.

He had been ready for the sight of the parasite in Peter's suit, the vibrant red contrasting with the sickly black. What he hadn't been prepared for was the sight of the red suit slowly turning black as the goop sank through the fabric. Only the mask was still entirely red, thrown on the ground without a mark. Apparently the parasite hadn't wanted to touch it.

"Do you like it?" he asked as Tony entered, no doubt seeing his shock. "I think it suits him."

Tony bit down on the inside of his cheek. "You have what you wanted. Now let me see the kid."

"Are you sure you can take it, Tony Stark? The sight of him in a blackened suit, chained against the wall?"

"I said let me see the kid!"

The parasite simply smiled. "As you wish."

Tony wanted to look away, just in case there was some grizzly shift between Peter and the parasite. But he owed it to the kid to be there for him, so he kept his eyes on him and watched the completely unimpressive transition. So unimpressive, in fact, that he didn't even notice when it happened.

The parasite closed his eyes, and Peter opened them.

"Woah, kid!" Tony had to lurch forward to stop Peter from putting all his weight on his wrists as he slumped over. He couldn't take off the restraints, not when the parasite could regain control at any moment, but at the very least he could help hold the kid up while he got his feet beneath him.

Not good, Tony thought, keeping Peter from tearing his skin on the cuffs. It looks like the parasite is the only thing keeping him on his feet. How much of him is already gone?

"Peter," Tony said sharply, using a free hand to tap at his cheeks. "Come on, kid, open your eyes."

Peter's expression scrunched up a little, but he didn't quite manage to lift his head. It wasn't much of a surprise; he hadn't been in control for days. He was probably trying to figure out how to work his failing body.

"We have five minutes," he pressed, reaching to tilt Peter's chin up. "I'd really appreciate it if you could talk to me, Pete."

A soft breath puffed from Peter's cracked lips, and his eyelids fluttered just a bit. "Mr. S-Stark…?"

Something melted in Tony's chest, some deep-set tension, and he hugged the kid to him the best he could. "You're okay, Peter. Just breathe for a moment."

Seconds ticked away as Peter gasped like he couldn't take in enough air, and Tony remembered grimly the parasite's claim that he had already seeped into the kid's lungs. He drew back to get a look at Peter's face, and was even more alarmed to see how flushed he was. Touching a forearm to his forehead, he realized that he definitely had a fever.

The parasite is shutting him down. We don't have much time.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked, though he could guess the answer.

Peter blinked at him through glassy eyes. "Bad," he rasped, voice thick, and Tony winced. "Really bad, Mr. Stark."

"What hurts?" Maybe if he knew he could help somehow, or Bruce could use the information to expedite the process of finding a cure.

But Peter just sniffed like he was about to cry and said, "Everything."

Oh no. "Is it in your chest? Your stomach? Your…your head?"

"It's…it's saving the brain f-for last," Peter stuttered. He looked more and more exhausted with every word. "V-Venom says he w-wants me to last as long as possible…"

Tony wanted to shush him because he could see how painful it was to talk about it, but he knew that they needed the information. "I know, kid, but you're going to be okay."

"He w-wants to poke holes in my lungs," Peter said like he hadn't even heard the response. "H-he…he wants you to see it."

"Okay." Tony put a hand on his cheek again, sensing that the kid was about to drift off. "Hey, Pete—I need you to focus on me. What's happening when the parasite is in control? The more you tell me, the faster Banner can develop a cure."

"Cure?" Peter slurred.

"Yes, a cure! Come on, kid, just tell me as much as you can." He glanced at his watch. Three minutes.

Peter blinked at him hazily. "Hurts," he whispered. "When he's in control. H-he takes everything."

"He's draining you," Tony said knowingly. "And his plan is to infect us, isn't it?"

Something like coherency sparked in Peter's eyes, and he leaned forward. "He's—Mr. Stark, he's going to infect you all!" Then he cringed as if something was hurting him on the inside, slumping back against the wall. "Y-you have to kill it. Please kill it. If he gets to you…!"

"It's okay," Tony soothed, setting his hands on Peter's shoulders to ground him. "We're working on a cure. We already know how to render it inert, but…"

Peter seemed to flush even further as he looked up at him, the fever intensifying every moment Venom wasn't in control. "But what?" he asked.

"But…it'll kill you."

"Oh." He didn't sound surprised. "O-okay."

"What? Not okay, kid, not okay! We're going to find some kind of actual cure, and soon, so just hold on for as long as you can. We're going to save you."

"I-I…think maybe it's too late? Or, it will be."

"Kid, no. We've got you, you're fine." But looking at him now, collapsing within not five minutes of regaining control, he felt less than hopeful. Could Peter's body even support itself without the parasite there to hold it together? Was he already too thoroughly inundated with the parasite?

"Mr. Stark," Peter said. His voice sounded thick, like his throat was swollen. Every word seemed to cost him another fathom of energy. "HYDRA is g-going to infect all of you. T-they've got m-more of the substance, and they're g-going to use it to assimilate the Avengers. If they manage it, t-they'll be able to wipe out anyone they want. Venom w-will be too strong for anyone else to s-stop. You have to k-kill him before that happens."

"We will, Pete, we will. And we're going to save you in the process."

"No, no!" Peter's fingers clenched like he wanted to grab at Tony, but the restraints kept him from doing so. "He's already in here, Mr. Stark. H-he's too integrated. He's trying to replace my body with his."

"He's not going to succeed. Look, just—" He glanced at his watch again, then cut himself off as he realized that only had a minute. "You have to hold on, okay? Find something to focus on and don't let it go, because we can't get you out of there unless you're alive."

Peter's eyelids were fluttering again. He looked faint. "F-focus… Right, Mr. Stark, I can do that."

"I'm serious, kid. Even if it's just out of spite, grip tight and wait for us to save you. And…however this ends up, you have to understand that it's not your fault."

"B-but…I stabbed…!"

"Not your fault, Peter. I need you to repeat that to me and internalize it, okay? Anything you do under this thing's control is out of your hands."

Peter's head dropped.

Alarmed, Tony tipped his chin back up. "Repeat it!"

"I-I…I guess…it's not m-my fault?"

"More confidence!"

Peter's expression flickered between sheer agony and exhaustion. "It's not m-my fault." Even though it didn't look like he believed it.

The seconds ticked down. It was the best he was going to get. "Stay strong, kid. We'll find a cure."

Peter nodded, terrified. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

His heart broke. "Peter…"

But his eyes were already closed, and when they opened again Tony knew that it wouldn't be the same.

Tony swirled the ice in his glass, mourning the anemic remains of his drink. He'd had enough to floor at least three grown men, but he hardly felt it. He needed more, and he was going to have it.

"A decision has to be made."

Oh, yeah—and there was the reason for his drinking. Or at least, one of them. The other was locked up tight in a vibranium cell.

"Hey," Tony said, leaning across the table to talk to Natasha. "Can you make me another one of these?"

Natasha looked at him, frustrated. "Tony, that's enough. I think you've had half the bottle."

"Great, let's go for double."

"No. You're cut off."

"But Nat—!"

"She's right, Tony," Steve broke in. "We're in the middle of a meeting, remember? We have to decide what to do about Venom, and we have to make that decision now."

"How about we not do that? Bruce can finish up his cure and then we can give it to Peter and we'll all live happily ever after."

"Tony…" Bruce shifted nervously, like he didn't want to say whatever he was thinking. "I've been working on that sample for days, as has Wakanda, and not a thing we've done has put a dent in it. Even if I did manage to come up with some kind of cure, which is getting more and more unlikely, I'm not sure I could perfect it and get it to Peter before it's too late. It…it might already be too late."

"Not too late, Banner. Find the cure."

"You saw him," Bruce pressed. "The instant Venom let go, he slumped and developed an incredibly high fever. It's possible that too much of him has already been corrupted, and that removing that corruption would be removing vital parts of him. At this point, the cure might kill him."

Tony's grip tightened on the glass until he thought it might break. "There is a cure, and you're going to find it. I'm not letting that kid die."

Bruce just shook his head. "You might not have a choice."

"There's always—!"

"We have to face facts here," Steve interrupted. "We're nowhere close to developing a cure, and Peter looks like he doesn't have much left in him. I don't want to say it, Tony, but…it might be time to look into actually killing this thing the only way we know how. Especially if HYDRA is on its way here with the intention of infecting the rest of us."

"If they want to infect the rest of us then we need a cure!"

"Not if we can kill that thing off before any of us get infected."

"What, with freezing cold and oxygen deprivation? We don't know that will kill it; Banner said it just rendered the thing inert!"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Actually, my most recent trials have ended successfully in mass cell death. If it gets cold enough long enough, with a healthy dose of de-oxygenation to boot, I think I can kill it."

Tony's blood ran cold. "Well you can't. I don't know if you've forgotten, but Peter's still alive in there! If you think I'm just going to watch you kill him, you're dead wrong!"

"He's alive," Steve agreed, "but by the time we get the cure—if we get the cure—he'll be dead."

"We can't—!"

Bruce leaned across the table, putting a hand over his. He was too stunned to jerk away. "I'm sorry, Tony. We're going to keep trying, but it's time to think about our next obstacle—namely the HYDRA agents that are coming for us with the intent of infecting us, too."

"The kid is still alive," Tony snapped. "We can still save him! He's going to keep fighting, and we can't just give up on him!" Distraught, he turned to the others. "Are any of you going to say anything about this? You're agreeing to let a member of the team die!"

Everyone looked away but Wanda, who fixed him with a sad but determined gaze. "His mind is damaged, Stark," she said. "When I reached to hold him down, I felt how warped it had become. Venom is at the very center of his being now."

"He's still Peter; he's still coherent enough to speak and move if we can just get that thing off of him!"

"We will try," Wanda said. "I will try. However you must understand the direction this is heading in, as not to lose yourself if he perishes."

"The world can't afford to lose you, Tony," Steve pressed, tone gentle. "We all know how much you care about the kid. You took him in after his aunt went down and you've stood behind him ever since, ready to dispose of anyone that so much as looked at him wrong. I…I know that he's like a son to you. But if it comes down to it, we can't let this destroy you. He'd want you to be strong."

Tony glared at the melting ice in his glass. Peter would want that. He would want him to brush off his death and go back to being his usual, heroic self. Pepper would be there for him, and so would the team, and eventually he'd get himself back to functioning regularly.

But not without a catch.

"If Peter dies," Tony said, "I will hunt down every remaining HYDRA agent and slaughter them. I will scour every corner of this world from top to bottom for as long as it takes to find the people that designed that thing, and then I will kill them slowly, painfully, using every trick I learned while I was in Afghanistan. So yeah, I'll be strong. I'll be so strong that all of HYDRA will die overnight."

"Tony," Steve said, dismayed, but Wanda spoke right over him.

"Then we will help," she declared, chin held high.

Steve started. "Hey—I know this is an emotional time, and Peter didn't deserve this in the least, however—"

"Peter is a seventeen year old boy," Wanda said. "A child, about to enter his last year of high school. He's supposed to be on summer vacation. Instead, he's locked up and dying in a jail cell while we sit here debating whether or not to give up and kill him before that parasite has the chance. If he meets with death, Stark, I will join you in slaughtering those that assigned him this fate. Perhaps I will do so even if he lives."

"I'll join you," Clint spoke up, expression grim. "I saw how much pain he was in when he collapsed in the training room. Those responsible are going to be brought to justice."

"I do not approve of senseless violence," Vision threw in. His arms were crossed, gaze fixed on the table. "However in this case I do not believe such violence will be senseless. These people have harmed a child, and now they will pay."

Still, Steve stared. "You guys are killing me. We have such an unstable relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D. to begin with thanks to the Sokovia mess, do you really want to go out of our way to break the law? Because as much as I'd like to bring those criminals to justice, killing them like you're describing would go against everything Ross stands for."

"Ross is an asshole," Natasha said. "I'm in, Tony."

"The little shit broke my arm," Sam piped up. "Just for that I'd take down the bastards responsible."

Everyone looked to Steve expectantly.

"Well…" He looked from face to face, already resigned but not quite willing to give it up. "I guess I just don't want this to turn into the Sokovia Accords fiasco again."

"And?" Tony pressed.

"…And if Peter dies, or even if he doesn't, HYDRA needs to pay. For him, and for everyone else."

For Bucky, Tony thought, but he said nothing. They hadn't found Bucky at the scene of the last battle, and no one knew if he was safe. He wasn't returning calls.

"I guess we're in agreement," Steve said finally. "We hunt them down and bring them to justice, whether that means killing them or arresting them."

Tony cleared his throat. "But it'll definitely mean killing them."

"Right, right…" Steve crossed and uncrossed his arms, a sign of nervousness. "Bruce, you should still keep working on the cure, but I want you to keep watch on the construction of that chamber we ordered from Wakanda."

Bruce nodded. "They're already on it, Cap. If we set it up down here, it could kill Venom."

"Good. In the meantime, we can prepare. Venom seems convinced that HYDRA is coming here, and we have to be safe and take his word for it. Let's set security to the max and wait for them to show up. Once they do, we can—"

"Sir," said FRIDAY, "my systems are being overridden."

Tony shot to his feet along with the rest of the Avengers, already moving to call his suit. "Already?" he asked. "Geez, they work fast."

"Not HYDRA," she said. "I'm sorry, I tried to warn you however my systems were unable to—"

But that was all she had time for before the door slid open, and a familiar man was standing in the doorway.

The tension in the room skyrocketed. No one seemed to know what to say, until Cap took the initiative.

Steve reached out a hand, though his body language was stiff. "Sir," he said. "Welcome to the compound. How…unexpected."

Ross bristled. "So," he said, staring them down. His gaze felt like daggers to the skin. "What's this I hear about a rogue Spider-Man in Germany?"

Oh, shit.

Chapter Text

"I go away for two weeks, Rogers. Two weeks. You'd think that in that time you could manage to hold down the fort without encountering a massive threat to national security! But here I am, finding out that Spider-Man murdered five people in the streets and swept off to Germany, where he proceeded to join HYDRA, fight you nearly to the death, and be taken back off to the good ol' US of A while the Hulk over there tries to find a cure that doesn't exist for a disease that could spread to the entire population in the blink of an eye! One breach, Rogers, that's all it would take for this entire country to morph into a bunch of goopy drones! Why you thought it was a good idea to bring that monster here instead of killing him on the spot, I'll never understand. The only way we can be safe is to eliminate him and the rest of the contagion as soon as possible."

"Hey, now," Steve tried, but Ross was on a roll.

"It was idiotic of you to let it go this far," he continued. "You should have killed him as soon as you realized what was going on. You should have destroyed every last cell of that parasite for the sake of national security. I'm appalled, Rogers, that that wasn't your first thought! Even if he's a teammate, right now he's a threat to the entire nation. It's your job as an Avenger to get rid of that threat."

"We're working on that," Steve said carefully. "Bruce is developing a cure, and as we speak Wakanda is crafting a chamber that has the potential to kill—"

"I don't want to hear about anything that has the potential to kill the thing, I want to hear about what you know will kill it!"

"It will kill Venom, but it will take Peter with it. We were in the middle of discussing whether or not we should allow him to—"

"If you know it will kill him, then do it! We can't risk an outbreak of this thing."

The entire room went tense and silent.

"Ross," Steve said, using that same careful tone from before, "Peter is a member of this team. Not only that, he's a minor and under our protection. We will not just stand by while you order us to kill him. We'll deal with this ourselves."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation," Ross snapped. "There could be a serious outbreak if even one citizen gets infected. Our upmost priority should be to find every source of the contagion and eliminate it as fast as we can."

Steve bristled. "We will eliminate it, in time."

"We can't afford the risk," Ross repeated. "Get rid of it, Rogers."

"Get rid of—?"

"You heard me. Kill that thing, whatever it takes, and do it now."

"We are not killing a kid!" Tony snapped, shooting to his feet. "Especially not that kid! If you think we're just going to sit around and let you tell us to get rid of him—"

"It's off the table," Natasha agreed, muscles locked tight in preparation for a fight.

Tony shot her a look. "Hang on, I thought you and everyone else in this room wanted to kill Peter before Venom could kill him first."

"We don't want to kill anyone, Tony," she said shortly. "What we want is for this idiot to stop telling us to kill a member of our own team."

Steve nodded and said, "He's one of us, Ross. You can't order us to do anything to him."

"Oh, but I can!" Ross slammed his fist to the table, making at least half of them jump. "This is a threat to the entire country, maybe the entire world, and I'm ordering you to deal with it. Kill the boy."

"This is absurd," Tony snapped. He raised a hand as Steve moved to stop him, pushing the man away. "What in your code of ethics is letting you order us to kill a seventeen year old kid?"

"The part where if he lives, we run the risk of a global catastrophe! I've read the reports on this thing, Stark, I know that it took all of you out without breaking a sweat. We need this thing gone, and we need it gone now."

"You keep saying that like it makes a difference," Wanda said coldly.

"Peter is already unstable," Bruce broke in. "He doesn't have much time left, Ross, so at least let us use that time to try to find a cure! He'll be gone in a few days if we don't succeed, so what does it matter that we let him fight to the end instead of just killing him?"

Ross narrowed his eyes. "A few days could mean the difference between safe elimination and national outbreak."

"It won't mean a national outbreak," Bruce said. "We have him contained. If we find a cure, we'll get Peter back. If we don't, he'll die in a few days. You have to let us have this."

"He's not going to let us do anything," Tony muttered. "We're not going to kill the kid."

"You're going to kill him now."

Something shifted. The room was gripped by a sudden sense of solidarity, all of them facing down a common enemy that had caused nothing but trouble for them in the past few years. Not ten minutes before most of them had been talking about putting Peter out of his misery. But now, staring down someone who was ordering them to do just that, Tony felt his team closing ranks.

"No," Steve said. "We're not going to kill Peter. Ross, you have to reconsider. Even if you order us to do this, enforcing that order is going to be—"

"I'm giving you twenty-four hours to do what has to be done," Ross interrupted, expression as unmoving as stone. "Either you get rid of this little problem, or I'm sending in S.H.I.E.L.D. to do it for you."

"You wouldn't."

"My men listen to you when I'm in agreement with your actions, Rogers, but I'm still their boss. If I tell them to get rid of the kid they'll do it, and if you resist then they'll take you down too."

Tony snorted. "If you think a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents can take down the Avengers, you're more insane than you look."

"Maybe so. But do you really want to be all over the news in a public fight with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Relations between the Avengers and the general public are still shaky after the Sokovia incident, and I'm not sure how well that would go over. We wouldn't want the public turning on you, now, would we? They could call for another set of accords. They could demand your removal from service."

"And that would be bullshit," Tony snapped. "This world needs the Avengers. They know that as well as you do, and even if you all turn on us we'll still keep fighting."

Ross smiled mockingly. "You can't fight the entire world, Stark."

"For the kid? Watch me."

The smile grew. "We both know that things are never that simple. If the entire world decides to hunt you down, they'll manage to do it. You'll be apprehended and locked away for good. So when you're in the midst of deciding whether you want to do as I order or try to run, consider how the entire world will view the consequences."

"Hey, Ross?"

"Hmm?"

"Fuck you."

"Hey," Steve said, "let's not—"

But Ross just laughed, cutting him off. "Twenty-four hours," he repeated. "Make the right choice, or I will."

Tony made to punch him right in his conniving face, but Steve's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He held him back until Ross retreated, the doors sliding shut behind him, and the team was alone.

There was a moment of tense silence, where no one knew quite what to say.

"Okay," Steve said. "Let's get moving."

"And do what?" Natasha asked in a low tone. "Kill Peter?"

"What? No, I—"

Tony slapped Steve's hand off his shoulder with a furious, "Like hell we're killing him! I told you, he's still in there and we can help him!"

"Just listen to—!"

"We need to wait this out," Wanda said sharply. "If Peter only has a few days left, then we will allow him to take those days as Banner continues to work on a cure and find a better method of killing the parasite. If he fails, we will kill the creature in the chamber being designed by Wakanda."

Steve held up his hands. "I'm trying to say that—!"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. can't just boss us around," Sam agreed. "If we let them order us to kill one of our own now, who's stopping them from doing the same in the future? We've already decided not to actively kill Parker, so S.H.I.E.L.D. can suck my—"

"Hey!" Steve snapped, and the room fell silent. "Will you listen to me?"

Everyone fell silent.

Steve squared his shoulders and said, "I was going to ask how we were going to get Peter out of here before Ross's deadline."

Just like that, all the tension in the room snapped and washed out.

"We'll need to transport him with Veronica again," Tony said, already starting to plan. "We can use that as a temporary jail cell while Bruce keeps working on a cure. We'll just get him out of here, put him somewhere safe…"

"Somewhere safe like where?" Natasha pressed. "Ross will be watching us for this exact reason. It won't be easy."

"We never used that sedative Bruce gave us," Tony said. "We could try it and transport him while he's out."

Bruce shook his head. "Incredibly risky. That sedative was experimental, and I'm not sure how it'll affect Peter now that he's been completely consumed."

"It's our best option. We have to try."

Sighing, Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "This is going to be a nightmare. I hope you know what you're signing up for."

Tony jabbed a finger in his direction and said, "You. Cure. Now."

"Okay, okay! I'll let you know the instant I have a lead."

As Bruce left the room, Tony turned back to the others. "Great," he said. "Time for a plan."

Peter was lying on his back, keeping careful count of each shallow breath, when the room rumbled around him.

"The end is near," Venom growled.

Well, that was comforting. Peter used an unreasonable amount of strength to roll onto his side, hoping maybe he'd be given a glimpse of what was happening on the outside. But there was nothing, so he let his eyes slip closed to conserve energy. It was a bit worrying that his head was spinning, but he didn't have the strength to question it. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

You can't give up yet, kid. We'll save you. You just have to hang on.

He tried to focus on the memory of Tony's voice. That whole conversation had been a mess, a blur of heat and pain and dizziness, but he remembered Tony telling him that he had to fight. That he had to cling to something, anything, until he couldn't.

Peter forced his fingers to curl. I'm not done fighting yet.

"Not yet," Venom agreed, as if he'd plucked the thought right from the center of his brain. "But soon."

He grit his teeth and kept concentrating.

Because Wakanda had the best and worst timing ever, the chamber was delivered that night.

Tony had been picturing some kind of giant test tube with an apparatus in the top to suck out all the oxygen, but that wasn't what he got. When the chamber was delivered to the compound, it was far more plain.

"Dr. Banner will know how it works," said one of the Wakandans who had been sent to deliver the thing. "Ask him."

Tony was too stunned to agree. He just watched as the chamber was maneuvered into the lab and hooked up to electricity. The thing was massive, containing two rectangular chambers large enough for several people to stand in. One was slightly smaller, containing the door to the outside, and the other was connected only to the first chamber so that you would have to pass through two doors to get inside. It was made of what looked like glass, and Tony was concerned that Venom would simply break out of it until he was reassured that the Wakandan scientists had found a way to work vibranium into a clear substance. There would be no breaking out.

"It's a simple design," Bruce explained when he finally found his way there. "Both chambers hold apparatuses to suck oxygen and heat from the space. The subject will go in the second chamber. In about ten minutes, that subject will be dead."

"Then what's with the first chamber?"

Bruce glanced at it, but looked away almost guiltily. "It's in case anyone needs to get in during the de-oxygenation and freezing process. You stand in the first chamber and wait for all the oxygen and heat to be sucked out before the divider opens and you can enter the second chamber. It stops us from losing process by allowing in air from the outside."

"And why would we need to get in there while the parasite is dying…?"

"It's…" Bruce hesitated. "It's just a precaution. Don't think too much of it."

Tony looked away. "Well this is great and all, but it's going to be useless now that we have to move Peter off-site."

"If it comes down to it," Bruce said, "we'll move the parasite back here for elimination. This is the only thing we know for sure can kill it."

He chose to ignore that statement. "Cap is in the middle of getting the kid back into the containment unit. We'll get him off-base in a few hours, so in the meantime you should make sure this is hooked up right and go back to working on a cure. Sound good?"

Bruce gave a troubled nod. "I'll get on it. With any luck I'll have something for you when we leave, but…" He trailed off, but Tony knew what he was going to say.

"But it's unlikely. I've been working on a cure for days, and I haven't made any progress. Now, with Peter reaching the end of his rope, I'm not sure I'll have the time to do anything more than use the execution chamber."

Tony closed his eyes. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"…Yeah. Good luck, Tony."

After that, their time ran out.

When Tony got back to where Peter was being held, he saw that Steve had gotten the kid back into Veronica. He was in the middle of figuring out how to get the containment unit back outside the compound, where they would use the quinjet and take off before S.H.I.E.L.D. realized what was going on.

…Of course, that was the ideal scenario. They were more than prepared for the likelihood that S.H.I.E.L.D. was monitoring them, and that they would swoop in the instant they realized what was happening. They were prepared to defend themselves if they were attacked.

They would get Peter out of there. Even if it ended in a battle against S.H.I.E.L.D.

But of course, it was never that simple.

Just as Steve was attaching the last of the cables to the containment unit, all the alarms in the compound started to blare.

"What the hell?" Tony yelled above the noise. "FRIDAY, what's going on?"

"Intruders at the front entrance, boss. They've set off charges and blown their way inside, and are currently attempting to force their way past the security doors in the entrance hall."

"How many? Who are they? Bring up surveillance!"

FRIDAY said, "They appear to be HYDRA agents. I can't pinpoint the exact numbers due to irregularities in my scanners, but there seem to be many."

A screen on the far wall flared to life, displaying a group of HYDRA agents beating down the door, working amidst rubble from the exterior of the compound. That was the main entrance on the first floor. But why were they attacking? Did they really think they were going to beat the Avengers? And more importantly, why hadn't any of the security systems picked up their approach? They shouldn't have been able to get within ten miles of the compound without FRIDAY picking them up.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter now. HYDRA was attacking, and they had to act.

"Looks like we've got to delay getting the kid out of here," Tony said sharply, already tapping at his watch and looking for the nearest suit. "Cap, you'd better grab your shield."

Steve hesitated. "We have to get Peter out of here before morning, otherwise Ross will try to kill him. Think you can spare me while I get him out of here?"

"Cap, HYDRA is attacking us in our own home with what looks like twenty foot soldiers. We can wipe them out in an hour and still get Peter out."

Steve shot a glance back at the containment unit, conflicted. "But they're here to take him back, aren't they? Venom is their creation, and if they're being so brazen as to attack us here, where they know we're the most well equipped…"

Tony paused. He didn't want to think about it, but Steve was almost certainly right.

"If they can get to him, it won't matter that they're attacking us on our home territory, or that there are only twenty of them. Peter is strong enough to put up a serious fight, and we have to be prepared for that. And of course, that's not even considering the fact that he told us that HYDRA was trying to infect us with more of that goop. We have to be careful on this one."

"Then we'll be careful," Tony said, and it sounded way simpler than it really was. "We'll protect the kid and make sure everyone knows what's at stake. As long as we're not reckless, we won't be infected."

Cap shook his head and said, "I wish I had your faith."

Normally he'd have some sort of clever quip for that, some kind of quick response. But Peter's life was hanging in the balance, and he wasn't going to let the scale tip to the wrong side. "Protect the kid. I'm going to deal with the situation downstairs."

"You giving the orders now, Stark?"

"My kid, my rules. Keep him safe or I'll have your head."

He almost expected Cap to argue. But instead he smiled, be it somewhat wearily, and clasped a hand to Tony's shoulder. "He'll be okay. Good luck."

Then Tony was running. Lights were flashing, alarms were blaring, and it took longer than Tony wanted to get into his suit. By the time he got everything on, the other Avengers were already in uniform and on their way down to the ground level.

"Tony!"

He drew to a halt in one of the many living rooms, where the rest of the Avengers were gathered in varying states of distress. From that room there was a hallway stretching to the entrance hall, which was where the HYDRA agents were currently located. They were separated by a series of thick security doors.

"We have some unexpected visitors," Clint said, like everyone didn't already know. "They're stuck behind the security doors at the end of the hallway, but they're carving their way in."

Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Okay. FRIDAY, activate security procedures and—"

"I'm afraid that all of my security protocols are being blocked, boss. I am unable to access the room."

"Great! How did they get in here, anyway? How did we not see them coming?"

"By my calculations, they are very good at remaining under the radar."

"Very helpful, thanks." Tony turned to the others. "Let's open up the doors and funnel them down the hallway. Take them out one by one."

"They'll shoot at us," Natasha said. "Vision, Tony, the two of you are pretty much bulletproof. You can stand at the front and take them down."

Vision nodded. "Very well. Mr. Stark, if you would be so kind as to open the security doors?"

"FRIDAY?"

The AI paused. "I'm afraid I don't have access to the security system in this room, either."

Tony put his faceplate down and raised his hands. "Fine. Let's do it this way."

There was a flash of light, and the first of the five security doors in the hallway were blown down.

"I thought those were meant to contain the Hulk?"

"Not these ones," Tony said. "Only the doors leading to the outside, which these guys managed to melt using whatever insane explosives they have up their sleeve."

Clint groaned. "Of course they did."

Tony got to work on the second door, the heat of his repulsors warming his hands through the metal.

"What's their plan?" Natasha asked as he worked. "They can't just be here to throw themselves at us. They know they'll lose."

"They wish to infect us," Vision said knowingly. "Isn't that right?"

The second set of doors crumpled, and Tony moved for the third. "Got it in one," he said over the shriek of tearing metal. "By all accounts they're trying to get in here, get all of us gooped up with that parasite, and use those of us who get infected to take the others down—of course, freeing Peter in the process."

"And we're just blasting down the doors and leaping into combat, knowing that if even one spec of that stuff gets on us we'll turn on everyone else and try to kill them." Clint raised a brow. "That's brazen even for you, Tony."

"We have no idea what they're going to try," Wanda agreed, voice tight. "If they have managed to reduce that goop to a gaseous form, all they have to do is chuck a canister at us and it will be over. If it's still a liquid, they could simply stand back and spray us with it."

"Like, with super soakers?" Clint snickered.

"This is not the time to laugh!"

Tony tore through the fourth door. On the other side of the fifth, he could hear the HYDRA agents yelling as they tried to break through.

"Tony," Natasha snapped, "the plan!"

He paused, already in the motion of tearing the door open. "Fine, here's the plan: win. Protect Peter at all costs, and protect yourself from becoming infected along with him."

Natasha gave this little shake of her head that reminded Tony of that time on the tarmac, fighting Cap. It was a gesture that said, well this is going to end well.

"It's not practical to fight in hazmat suits," Tony said in response to that look. Then, when she just raised a brow, "Okay, how about this? Vision, you're with me. The rest of you get behind cover until you're sure the coast is clear of deadly super soakers and gas grenades."

"You don't know I will be immune, Mr. Stark," Vision said. "In fact, I might be one of the last people you want to be infected."

"You're approximately zero percent human, I think you'll be fine."

"And what of you? You are perfectly human, and I doubt that suit can protect you against the parasite."

Tony rolled his eyes, a gesture that was sorely wasted from inside his mask. "FRIDAY, activate security protocol fourteen-A."

"Acknowledged."

Even if the AI couldn't access the building's security systems, she could at least access the systems inside his own suit. Said suit let out a hiss, the metal shifting to accommodate the protocol, and then he was holding out his arms and proclaiming, "There, I'm safe."

"Safe how?" Natasha asked.

"The entire suit is filtering out foreign substances," he said. "Gas, for one. Also water. It's basically a glorified scuba suit at this point, but it'll work. Now, are we doing this?"

Everyone exchanged glances.

"Okay," Natasha said finally, "let's do this. But Tony, if any of that stuff gets on you, I wouldn't trust the suit. We don't know what the parasite is made of, but we do know that it managed to infiltrate Peter's suit when it was supposedly watertight. Don't take any risks. Get the armor off if you're hit."

"Won't be necessary, Nat." He turned. "Let's take them out."

He tore down the security doors, and the fight was on.

Chapter Text

Tony burst into the room, shooting before he even had the chance to get a good look at the HYDRA agents.

There really are about twenty of them, he thought, gunning a few down. Behind him, Vision swooped in to take care of several more. Why would they send them here? What were they expecting to happen?

It wasn't like the agents didn't put up a fight. The instant they realized what was happening they split up, scrambled for cover in different directions and started firing. It looked like they'd used all their explosives to enter the building, and since none of them were throwing vials of goop at them Tony thought it was safe to assume that they weren't carrying any of the contagion. Unfortunately for them, that meant that they didn't stand even the slightest chance against the Avengers.

In the end, they were simply men with guns. Vision and Tony cut through them like they were nothing.

"Well that was underwhelming," Tony said as Vision blasted the last HYDRA goon in the chest. "What the hell were they thinking?"

"Nothing intelligent, surely." Vision turned back toward the hallway and called, "All clear! The agents had none of the contagion with them."

"Then why come here?" Tony murmured. He rolled one of the goons over with his boot. He was unconscious, not dead, but he knew that any attempt to question a HYDRA agent would just be frustrating and fruitless for everyone involved. They were all very good at committing suicide rather than giving up information. "These guys are actually idiots if they came here without any of the contagion. What was the point?"

"It seems like an elaborate attempt at suicide," Vision said. Behind him, the other Avengers were filing into the room.

Natasha shook her head. "It makes no sense. They are aiming to infect us, right?"

"Well they don't have any of that goop with them," Clint observed. "Otherwise they would have used it by now."

"Which raises the question, what exactly were they attempting to do? They just showed up, attacked us like they thought it would do something, and passed out in a grand total of three minutes." Natasha shook her head. "It makes no sense to me."

The conversation buzzed on, but Tony was staring at one of the downed agents. There was something tickling at the back of his brain, but he wasn't sure what it was. He felt…uneasy.

"Tony?"

He looked up to see Natasha watching him with concern. "I'm okay," he said automatically. "It's just…something doesn't feel right."

Natasha cocked her head. "What do you think is wrong?"

"Just…" He trailed off. Why would HYDRA do this? They must have known it wasn't going to work. It was almost as if they knew and didn't care. Like they sacrificed themselves, but for what purpose?

HYDRA only has one purpose at the moment. You know that.

Something clicked into place, and Tony's blood ran cold. "The kid," he said.

"What?"

He was already whirling around and saying, "FRIDAY, scan the building and look for any unexplained heat signatures."

"On it, boss."

"What are you thinking?" Clint asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tony felt like he was buzzing with nervous tension, waiting for FRIDAY to finish the scan. "They disabled security for a reason," he said. "It wasn't just so twenty guys could come in here and get knocked out in the first five minutes of the fight. Getting into my security system takes a whole lot of effort, and that's not something they would waste on an attack like that. So there has to be something more, some reason they'd want to come here and distract us from something larger."

Wanda's expression fell. "Peter."

"Their experiment," Tony corrected. "Shit—I left Steve up there with him! FRIDAY, are you done with that scan?"

There was a pause. Then, "I believe that something is interfering with that function."

"Shit," Tony said again. "There are more HYDRA agents here, I'm sure of it. We have to find and dispose of them before something happens."

"If this was a distraction, they'll have a plan to infect all of us and get Peter back," Natasha said. "It could be incredibly dangerous, trying to find them when we can't even get a probable location from FRIDAY. What if they're waiting to ambush us, contagion in hand?"

Tony swore yet again and raised a hand to his ear. "Cap? Cap, report in. We've got a situation here."

Nothing.

"Well that's not good," Clint said, and it was the understatement of the century.

"We have to find them now," Tony said. "Vision, the two of us are still relatively safe against these guys. We'll go up and find Cap. The rest of you, get out of the compound. We can't risk having more of you infected."

Natasha shook her head and set her jaw. "I'm sorry, but no."

"Nat—!"

"We're a team, Tony. And that means not running away when the stakes get a little higher than normal."

"I'm ordering you to get out of here."

Natasha shared a look with Clint and Wanda, like she couldn't believe he was trying to get the three of them to abandon ship. "Sam is with Bruce in the lab, so he should be safe while he works on the cure. Presumably Cap is down, maybe even infected, so someone has to get up there immediately. Since you're so convinced that you're impervious to the contagion, Tony, you can head up there with Vision like you suggested. The rest of us will sweep the compound and make sure no one is doing anything unsavory."

"And what if you're infected?" Tony demanded. "We can't take that risk!"

"If we're infected, then Bruce will have to find that cure before we die."

Tony felt a little sick.

"Let's get moving," Natasha said. "Keep in contact. If anything happens, don't be a hero—call for help."

He wanted to protest. But Steve could be in danger, and if he was in danger then Peter was too, and he needed to get up there as soon as possible.

"Okay," Tony relented, though he didn't feel good about it. "Let's go."

The compound was still flashing with the red lights that accompanied the alarms, but the alarms themselves were no longer functioning. Someone had turned off the sound, but not the strobe effect—and as a result, running up to the second floor felt like sprinting through a disco. Bright, disorientating, and just slightly panicky.

Tony couldn't stop his heart from pounding as he approached the room with Peter's containment unit, where Cap had been left to protect him. Vision was flying close behind, showing no outer signs of concern, but Tony knew he was just as worried about their teammates.

"Steve!" Tony called out as they got close, tearing around the final corner and finally coming face to face with the door. He tried to open it, but it was locked so tight that it almost felt welded.

"Stand back," Vision said calmly. Then, when Tony complied, he melted straight through the metal.

Then the room was open, and Tony recoiled instinctively at the sight that greeted him.

The first thing he saw was that the door to Peter's containment unit was open, and that there was no one inside. The vibranium restraints were unlocked and on the ground. The second thing, though, was much more horrifying.

"Cap!" Tony tore into the room, panic swelling in his chest as he saw Steve lying flat on his back and absolutely covered in goop. He nearly reached out without thinking, but reminded himself that touching the stuff could get him infected too, even from the safety of his suit. So instead he dropped to his knees beside him, hands hovering over the parasite without touching. He didn't know what to do.

"We have to get it off of him now, in case there's still a chance he hasn't been infected." Vision reached for Steve, and Tony didn't stop him. The parasite shouldn't have any affect on synthetic flesh.

Vision shook him. "Captain Rogers. Captain Rogers, can you hear me?"

There was a beat where nothing happened. Then Steve shifted, groaning, and his eyes fluttered open. "Ow," he complained. "What…what happened?"

"You'll have to tell us," Vision said, helping him sit up. "For now, I need you to remove your clothing."

Too late for that, Tony thought, eyeing a splatter of black on Cap's bare neck. He was already infected.

"Ah." Steve stood up, albeit shakily, and looked down at his drenched front. "I guess that's it, then. I'm compromised."

"You should still undress," Vision said. "We need to remove as much of the parasite as possible."

He gave a dazed nod. "Right, right…" Then he looked up and saw the empty containment unit. "Oh no. The kid…"

"What happened here?" Tony demanded.

There was the rustle of cloth as Steve began to remove his uniform. Then, "It's a bit blurry, but I think I was ambushed. The doors slid open and I thought it was you, but the next thing I knew something was hitting me hard in the chest and I blacked out. They must have shot me with the parasite, and the impact was enough to knock me down."

"And Peter?"

"I don't know. I wasn't awake."

There was more rustling, and when Tony turned back Steve was still fighting with the uniform. Finally he just shook his head, releasing the cloth and telling Tony, "It's stuck. It won't come off."

"The goop has become a sort of binding agent," Vision said. "It's turned thick enough to stop you from removing your uniform, which means that it has certainly seeped through to the skin. I apologize."

But Steve just shook his head and said, "Nothing we can do about it now." He refastened his suit and adjusted his cowl. "Let's find the kid."

"You sure you're not going to turn on us?"

He shook his head. "Super soldier, remember? I'm not as enhanced as Peter, but I'm not entirely normal either. I'll be able to hold out for at least the next few hours."

Great. Tony put his faceplate up and raised a hand to his ear. "Hey guys? Cap's been compromised, but he's not evil just yet so we've still got some time. We think HYDRA has some way of shooting the parasite at us from a distance, so watch out for any strange weapons."

There was a pause. Then, from Natasha, "Understood. I've found a few agents, but none of them have posed any serious threat."

"Same here," said Clint. "I'll be on the lookout for any weird guns that shoot black goop."

"I'll watch too", said Wanda.

"Sam?" Tony asked. "Are things locked down in the lab?"

"All clear, Tony."

He sighed. "Great. Keep searching, and keep us updated."

The line went dead.

"Okay," Tony said, looking to Steve and Vision. "The big bad guys have Peter, so their next move is going to be infecting all of us one by one. What's the easiest way to do that? Where would they go?"

"They won't risk armed combat," Steve said. "They know they'll lose. They must have another plan."

"What could it be?" Vision asked. "I fail to comprehend any efficient way of infecting all of us at once."

Tony closed his eyes to think. "Imagine you're HYDRA. You have an entire building of people to infect, but you don't want to risk one on one. You know that what you pulled with Cap was risky, and that you only won because of sheer luck, and you know you can't make it work twice. So what do you do? What's a way of covering an entire building in goop?"

Vision frowned thoughtfully. "It wasn't goop to begin with. You said that when Peter fell into the parasite, it resembled oil."

"Yeah," Tony said, "it did. It was a little thick, but more like oil than tar."

"Then let us revise the question. How do you cover an entire building in oil?"

"How is that any better?"

Vision raised a brow and pointed up.

Tony followed the line of his arm up to the ceiling. There, right above them, was the tiny nub that connected to the sprinkler system.

His heart skipped a beat. "Oh."

"We're running on borrowed time," Vision said. "As we speak they could be feeding the parasite into the sprinkler system. One they set it off, there will be nothing anyone can do to stop themselves from becoming infected. Even your suit may become compromised, Mr. Stark."

The nervousness was back, like a punch to the gut, and Tony had to take a few deep breaths to get himself under control. "Then we have to stop them. FRIDAY, are security systems back online yet?"

"I'm working on it, boss. I believe I have enough systems rebooted to perform a basic scan."

"Then do it. Can you find Peter and the HYDRA agents that broke him out?"

The AI paused. "I'm picking up three life forms in the basement, where the main sprinkler apparatus is located."

"Any of them Peter?"

"No, I don't believe so. If I'm reading the scan correctly, Peter is…" She paused again. "He's in the lab. Dr. Banner and Mr. Wilson are there, and so are two unidentified life forms."

Steve stiffened. "Unless we want a code green on our hands, we'd better get on that."

"Yeah." Tony turned to Vision and ordered, "Get down to the basement and stop them from hooking Venom up to the sprinkler system. Steve and I will handle the situation in the lab."

Vision gave a brisk nod. "It will be done. Should we alert the others as to the situation? Perhaps we can warn them to take cover."

"Tell them what's going on and make sure they don't approach the lab," Tony said. "Have them keep scanning for any HYDRA agents we haven't found yet, but make sure they know they could be doused in the contagion at any moment."

"Very well. I will depart at once."

Tony shot a look over at Steve, who was trying and failing to scrape some of the goop off of his chest. "Sure you can handle this?"

"It's weird," he said. "It's…it's this pressure, starting from the point of impact and seeping up to the brain. It's dizzying."

"Not doing a very good job of reassuring me, here, Cap."

Steve straightened and took his hands away from his chest. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'm stronger than it, for the moment."

It still wasn't very reassuring. But Peter and Bruce and Sam were in danger down there, and he needed to get to the lab before it was too late. A code green might get them all seriously injured, or even killed.

The two sprinted for the lab.

Peter watched it happen.

He wanted to fight it, but he was having a hard time concentrating. His head felt fuzzy, his chest was acting like it was weighed down by cement, and his limbs were like jelly. He could see through Venom's eyes but he could also see into his own cell, a weird crossover of sensory input that made him even dizzier than he already was.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew he was dying.

That didn't mean that watching his body do these things was any less painful.

For hours, all Peter did was lie there and remind himself to keep breathing. He thought that if he gave up now, he could probably slip away relatively painlessly. But he wouldn't let himself give up, not while his team was waiting for him, so he kept breathing and watched the walls. Or at least, he did until the noises started outside.

Venom laughed when the noises began. There was the sound of tearing metal, the boom of a firing weapon, then the sound of some kind of code being keyed into the vibranium containment unit.

"Looks like they're here," Venom purred. And true to his word, the door slid open to the sight of that same HYDRA officer from Germany. Roland, if Peter was remembering correctly

The commanding officer narrowed his eyes at Venom. "You failed."

He bowed his head. "Though it is not sufficient to fix what I have done, I will apologize. I didn't foresee Stark calling in a containment cell from which I could not escape, nor did I foresee you becoming trapped underground."

The commander glared for a moment, gaze even. But then he reached out and did something to the vibranium cuffs that unlocked them, and Venom was stepping forward and rubbing at his raw wrists. "None of us foresaw that," the man said. "What matters is that you finish your mission now, not that you failed in the past. Prove yourself to me, and you will be forgiven."

Venom leered. "Just point me in the direction of who I need to kill."

"Good." The man gave him approving look. "We have a team in the basement connecting you to the sprinkler system. Once that happens, we'll infect the Avengers all at once."

Peter jolted at that, trying to sit up before remembering why that was a bad idea as he was floored by a wave of nausea. They're going for the sprinkler systems? No…he's going to kill them all!

Venom nodded sharply. "Then we should go to the lab. Dr. Banner is there, and though I'm not confident in his ability to formulate an effective cure, as it were, I don't want to put anything past him. He needs to be taken down."

"Are you confident you can restrain him, should the worst occur?"

Peter paled. A fight against the Hulk would kill him.

Venom said, "The Hulk is an impulsive, instinctual beast, and I am built to alter the instincts in our favor. Do you have something with which to infect him?"

The man hefted his gun. "I have two more shots."

"Good. Then let's use them."

Peter's whole body buzzed with nauseous tension as Venom walked free, stepping out of the containment unit to a sight that was entirely horrifying. Steve Rogers, flat on his back, unconscious and infected.

"Ah, I thought I felt a surge of righteous patriotism at the edge of my consciousness." Venom nudged Steve with a boot. "He will make a fine addition to my collective mind. This one is running a bit low, I'm afraid."

The commander glanced at him. "Yes," he agreed, "he looks a little green."

"I'll have to cover his face soon. No use in displaying a corpse."

"He's served his purpose. We will use him to bring the rest of the Avengers to their knees. You…do have full control of him this time, correct?"

This time? Peter raised his head, confused. What was that supposed to mean?

Venom stiffened like the man had said something he wasn't supposed to. "I have had complete control since the boy collapsed in that alleyway. He won't be able to resist me."

"That's not what you—"

Peter's vision went dark abruptly, and he knew that Venom was shutting him out of something he didn't want him to see. But his mind was already racing as he tried to figure out what the man meant, and what Venom had said. He was so intensely interested that he almost forgot that his organs were in the midst of shutting down.

"…well," the man was saying when Peter's senses cleared. "Let's get to the lab and take care of Banner."

"Yes," Venom said. He sounded slightly tense. "Let's do that."

As they traveled, Peter dreaded running into one of the other Avengers. He had begun to come to terms with the fact that he was going to die, but he didn't want to take anyone else out with him. And if Venom found someone, he knew that he'd kill them. If not directly, then through contamination.

Luckily they encountered no one on their way to the lab. He could hear footsteps on the floor below and in distant rooms, but no one ever crossed their path. Before long they were coming up on the lab.

Venom raised an arm and punched, and the doors crumpled in on themselves.

The two people in the room nearly jumped out of their skin, whirling around to face Venom and Roland. Bruce was there, as expected, but Sam was an unexpected addition.

Sam got one good look at them and swore. "Oh, sh—!"

But that was as far as he got, because Roland leveled his gun at him and fired, and the next moment he was down and covered in goop.

Bruce jerked away from his work and flattened himself to the back wall. There was an expression on his face caught between panic and grim acceptance, and Peter knew he was realizing that a fight as the Hulk was incoming. The veins on his neck were already starting to tinge green.

"Dr. Banner!" Venom exclaimed, stepping over Sam's limp form and pacing further into the room. "How good it is to see you! I don't suppose you've made any progress on killing me?"

The doctor's eyes flitted to one corner, and Peter saw this huge contraption with two chambers. He remembered Tony talking to Venom about oxygen deprivation and about the cold, and he wondered if that was the chamber meant to kill the parasite. Meant to kill him, if there was no way a cure could be found.

Venom looked at it too. "So that's it? The contraption meant to starve me of oxygen, of heat. The contraption meant to kill me. How unfortunate that that is the only thing you've found that will work against me. After all, it will end up killing any of my living hosts."

Bruce took a deep breath. It looked like he was trying not to transform.

No, do it! Kill him, before he infects you!

"Is Peter still alive?" Bruce asked with forced calmness.

"Just barely, I'm afraid. All of this has taken its toll, and a fight against the Hulk will surely kill him—but of course, I encourage you to try anyway."

Bruce grit his teeth and said nothing.

"So you didn't develop a cure?" Venom asked innocently.

Still, nothing.

He shook his head, disappointed. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter one way or another." Then, to Roland, "Father, would you be so kind as to use the remaining charge on him?"

Roland raised his gun, leveling it at Bruce's chest.

Now was the time for Bruce to transform and attack. Peter knew it was the time. But Bruce was just standing there, wasn't doing anything, and why? He could see the greenish veins at the base of his neck, so the Hulk had to be pressing to get out. Bruce was stopping him. But why? Why?

It wasn't to protect him, was it?

His heart sank. Do it now, Dr. Banner! You have to transform and kill this guy, even if he takes me with him! It's…it's too late to bring me back from this.

Roland's finger twitched on the trigger.

There was this awful, tense moment where Peter just stared and silently begged Bruce to act. But it didn't last long, because as Roland's finger tightened on the trigger, the ruined doors to the lab trembled, groaned in resistance, then came clear off their hinges as two people burst into the room.

"Hey!"

Venom whirled around in shock. Beside him, the muzzle of Roland's gun lowered as he turned to face the newcomers. And Peter—Peter laughed, raspy and weak though it may have been, because if anyone could put an end to this it was them.

Tony Stark aimed one hand at Venom and the other at Roland, and though his face was hidden behind the mask Peter could imagine his fierce expression. Just a step behind was Captain America, shield affixed to his arm, jaw set in a determined line.

The palms of Tony's suit glowed. "I'm going to need you to step away from the doctor."

The corners of Venom's lips quirked upward. "Is that all?"

"Well if you're taking requests…" Tony's tone went cold. "Get the hell away from my kid."

Chapter Text

Venom cocked his head to one side and smirked. "A fitting request, Tony Stark, but one that I cannot grant. Your child is mine now."

"Yeah?" The palms of Tony's suit grew even brighter, broadcasting the imminent attack. "I beg to differ."

Peter winced as Venom righted himself and began to stalk closer, moving in an almost shark-like arc around his prey. He knew that Tony and Steve just might be able to take him down with that chamber. All they had to do was get him inside and press the right buttons, and he'd be out like a light. Of course, that wouldn't fix the fact that Sam was infected, and Steve—

He tried not to look at the dark stain over Steve's chest, tried not to realize all over again what it meant. Because Bruce still wasn't close enough to developing a cure, and Peter recognized the feverish sheen in Cap's eyes.

But he couldn't worry about that now. He had to focus on taking out this part of Venom, the part that was in him. Once he was gone…well, Bruce would either work out a cure, or Steve and Sam would die too.

Venom drew to a halt. "How do you think this is going to end?"

Tony shot a glance over his shoulder, to where Bruce was still pressed against the wall. "Banner," he said in a low tone, "go now."

"No one's going anywhere," Venom said smoothly. "Isn't that right, father?"

All eyes turned to Roland as he raised his gun again and leveled it at Bruce. "Of course, son," he said. "We're not leaving here until all of the Avengers have been assimilated."

"So you're the big bad?" Tony asked, regarding him from behind the mask. "You made this thing?"

"I fostered him," said the man. "I made him who he is today."

"So you're the reason my kid is dying."

Peter jolted. No, no, no—don't lose focus, Mr. Stark! Kill him!

"I'm the reason you're all going to die," Roland stated with the upmost calmness. "Venom will absorb you all, and then there will be no one left to stop us."

"Yeah, that's going to be a solid no from me. Rogers?"

He hefted his shield. "Not a chance."

"Great." Tony turned back to Venom. "Sorry about this, kid, but we have to take you down before we can cure you."

Mr. Stark…

Peter caught the look that Steve shot Tony. It was a momentary thing, the brief flitting of eyes in a direction they weren't supposed to go. He saw the pity, the sadness, the acceptance, and he knew.

Steve intended to kill Venom, no matter what it took.

For the first time in what felt like years, Peter felt a spark of relief. Steve understood that it was too late. At the very least, one of them understood—because it was too late. Bruce had no cure, the only method of killing Venom would do away with the host, and Peter's time was quickly running out. And if they just let Venom run free, who knew how many people would become infected?

This was the only way.

Venom seemed to sense the severity of the situation. "Father," he murmured, "if you would…?"

No!

Luckily Steve was sharp, saw what was going on, and he chucked his shield at Roland's arm before he could fire the gun. He staggered, the gun flew to the other side of the lab, and the entire room surged with movement.

Peter's head spun as Venom lurched into action. The beams from Tony's repulsors slammed into his arms, his chest, but Venom didn't falter for a moment as he threw himself at the man. Steve was going for the gun with the intention of disarming it. Roland was moving to intercept him. Bruce, looking about as agitated as he could get without transforming, was scrambling to Sam's side and dragging him out of the room.

"This will end no differently than the last time we fought," Venom said coldly. He didn't even attempt to duck as Tony blasted him in the chest, just allowed Peter to take the brunt of the impact. His entire world shook. The cell was beginning to shrink in on him again.

Tony whipped to one side as Venom threw a punch, blasting his extended arm to no effect. "It has to end differently," he hissed, ducking another punch and slamming his boot into Venom's stomach. Peter felt it when the thrusters activated, burning the parasite's exterior, but the thing didn't even react to the pain. Peter, on the other hand, was left to curl on his side in agony as pure energy licked at his flesh. It hurt.

"Hang on, kid—I'm going to get you out of there!"

Venom snorted. "No, you're not." He grabbed at Tony's ankle and chucked him to one side. Then he hummed, "If only you'd given me my webshooters. This could have been over by now."

"They aren't yours! They're Peter's, they belong to the kid!"

"Yes, and the child belongs to me."

Tony roared, a sound Peter had never heard before, a sound that scared him, and the whole world became a blur of movement.

"Such anger!" Venom laughed, dodging punches and lashing out in time, putting dents in Tony's armor. "Please, Tony Stark, continue to attack! Every blow brings your child closer to death."

Tony faltered, just like Peter knew he would, and Venom smashed a fist into the center of his chest. He flew backward, crashed into the ground, and didn't get up. Dazed, not unconscious—but it still didn't look too good.

Venom turned his head, and Peter saw Steve grappling with Roland over control of the gun. For a moment he was confused that he had managed to hold off Captain America for as long as he had, but then he caught sight of Roland's finger on the trigger and realized that if even one wrong move was made, that gun would go off and infect someone else.

"Pathetic," Venom snarled. He darted forward and flung Steve into the wall, and Roland righted himself immediately. He raised the gun, tightened his finger on the trigger, and—

"No!"

A blast of blue light set the gun off course, and once again a disaster was averted. Tony was back on his feet.

"Take them out!" Roland snapped, shaking his singed hand. "Do it now!"

"Yeah, sorry—not gonna happen."

Peter's vision washed with bright blue as Tony fired again, inches from his face. For a moment he didn't realize what had happened, until he heard Venom screech in horror. Then he saw Roland slump, chest cut open from Tony's repulsors, gun falling from his fingers harmlessly.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" Steve demanded, breathless. He fixed his shield back to his arm. "Jesus, Tony, he nearly toasted me with that thing!"

"You're already toasted, Rogers, don't get me started." There was a hint of pain there, and it made Peter's heart drop. If this went south, Tony would lose more than one teammate today.

"You fool!" Venom snarled, anger slamming into Peter like a wall. "You'll die for this, you're going to pay!"

"Yeah?" Tony scoffed. "You're on your own now, parasite, what are you going to do?"

Venom narrowed his eyes. Then he reached out and clenched his fingers in the open air, and Steve staggered like he'd been struck.

Oh no. No, no—Mr. Stark, he's going to—!

"Cap!"

Steve righted himself, palm sealing to his forehead. "I'm okay, I'm okay…"

He wasn't okay. Peter knew what he was feeling, recognized the wave of dizziness that accompanied the infection. Steve was fighting off something that couldn't be fought, and it couldn't last for long.

Now, Mr. Stark. You have to kill me now.

Tony snapped his gaze to Venom, the look on his face a mixture of desperation and fear. He recognized that he had to end this, but didn't quite know how. Steve could turn on him at any moment.

"You'll pay," Venom sneered, a manic glint in his eyes. "I might have killed you quickly before, but now you're going to suffer. I can promise you that you will never have felt such agony as when I—!"

"Save it," Tony snapped. "Nothing you do to me will even come close to what this godforsaken world has put me through already, so what do you say we wrap this up?"

"You can attempt to take me down, but there will be no saving the boy."

"Yeah?" Tony stumbled a bit, probably from the vicious blow to the chest, but he managed to right himself in a moment's time. "We'll just have to see. Rogers?"

Cap still looked dazed, but he brandished his shield determinedly. "I'll fight it as long as I can," he said in a voice that Venom probably wasn't supposed to hear, but that Peter's enhanced hearing picked up immediately. "If I go down…promise you'll do what has to be done."

Tony glared. "Not necessary." Then he turned back to Venom and bit out, "You think you're strong enough to kill us? Then by all means, I invite you to try."

Then Cap chucked his shield and Tony started firing, and Peter was lost in a firestorm of pain and disorientation.

He took all the hits that Venom didn't want to. When Cap caught his shield on the way back and bashed it into his side, Peter felt the bones crack and cried out. When Tony set his palms to his back and fired at full power, he felt his skin blister beneath Venom's protective shell. He felt his bones vibrate as he caught Tony's attempt to punch him in the temple, felt the stress on his entire body as Venom fought.

Breathe, he reminded himself, as his chest grew tighter and tighter and his vision edged with black. Come on, Parker, you can do this! Breathe, stay calm…you have to focus on breathing! Because even if he was going to die, he wasn't going out until the last possible minute. He needed to know that Tony was safe.

"He wants so badly to slip away," Venom laughed, slightly out of breath as he swept Steve's legs out from under him and barely missed an attempted punch to the jaw. Tony slammed into his side, throwing him off before he could do any serious damage, and Peter felt every bone-shattering moment of it. "He wants the pain to stop."

Tony's tone went just a little bit strangled. "Be quiet!"

"Why should I? It hurts you, the same way you hurt me by taking my father down."

"I said be quiet!" Tony pulled that same move from before, kicking Venom in the stomach and blasting him with his thrusters, just as Steve appeared out of nowhere and cracked him over the head with his shield.

Oh god, oh god—I can't pass out, if I pass out it's over, I have to make sure I stay awake! But that was harder than it sounded, as Peter's world spun from the force of the blow. Every breath was becoming an active struggle. He felt dizzy and sick and weak, and he could feel Venom's fury and it was making him nauseous. He just wanted it to stop.

I…I don't want to hurt anymore, Mr. Stark.

Venom just laughed, righting himself even as Peter struggled not to pass out. He was taking more than Peter's body had to offer, and it was killing him. His heart strained against the inside of his ribcage. "Oh, that one did quite a lot of damage! I think he's on his final breaths, Steve Rogers. How does it feel to know that you've delivered what could be the final blow?"

Steve went pale, but he didn't falter. He still understood. He understood that it was too late, that Venom had to be destroyed.

"Monster," Tony spat, but he didn't attack. "Give him back!"

"How many times do I have to go through this? Honestly, you're as dumb as a brick. And Peter thought so highly as you, too…"

"Don't you dare put his name to your lips!"

Venom rolled his eyes. "How heroic of you, defending a child whose death will ultimately be your fault."

Tony's hands shot up, ready to deal Venom another blow, and Peter closed his eyes because he knew. He knew that Venom was baiting Tony, that he could feel how close Peter was to death. He was going to make Tony kill him.

But the blow never connected.

When Peter opened his eyes, Tony was shaking like a leaf but no closer to striking him.

"Tony," Steve said, low and dangerous.

The man didn't even look at him. "I've got this," he said, voice shaking just as badly as his body. "I'm going to save him. I said I was going to save him."

Steve's expression went pained. "Tony…"

"I can save him!"

Something cold and horrible settled in Peter's stomach. He didn't want to watch. He didn't want to see how he was making Tony fall apart.

Venom smirked. "You can't, Iron Man. I'll make you kill him."

Then he lunged, and Peter's head spun. Venom lashed out, but Tony flew up into the air to avoid contact.

"Don't hit him!" Tony called, and Steve obeyed by diving to one side as Venom came at him like a hurricane. "I can save him. I can get him back!"

Steve raised his shield to Venom's next blow, reflecting the punch. Peter's body vibrated with the force of the impact. Darkness was closing in.

"Peter," Tony said, and his tone was so close to blatant begging that it made Peter's eyes water. He didn't want this. He didn't want to make Tony upset. "Peter, kid—you can fight this! I know you're sick and hurt and exhausted, but you're still my kid and I know you can come back."

"No use," Venom taunted, throwing himself at Steve in an obvious attempt to drive Peter over the edge. "He's too weak to fight."

There was an edge to Tony's voice as he called, "Kid, please. Please, you have to come back to us!"

Peter gasped as his fist made contact with the smooth vibranium of Cap's shield. He couldn't take it. He couldn't.

"I saw you," Tony pleaded. "I saw you, kid, when that thing made you stab me. Everyone said you were gone, but I saw the guilt and pain in your eyes. I saw you. You were fighting him then, even if he isn't letting you believe it, and you can still fight him now!"

It's not true. Peter closed his eyes, sealing his palms over his ears. He just wanted to drift away, but he couldn't let himself. Though…what was the point of fighting if he wasn't making a dent in Venom's psyche?

"You've been fighting him this whole time, and you were even winning for a while!"

Lies, lies, lies! But Peter didn't know if it was coming from him or Venom.

"Think about it, Pete! What was Venom's mission when he came here?"

Venom glared. "Shut up! He can't hear you!"

"He was supposed to assimilate us, right? He was supposed to infect us create some kind of fucked up hive mind. But he got you instead, infected you in the HYDRA base and went to the Avengers compound to infect the rest of us too."

"And I'm going to infect you!" Venom snarled. He was barely even fighting Steve anymore, was glaring at Tony with his muscles locked tight.

Tony didn't let up. "You were supposed to infect us in our own home, and you had every chance to do just that. That night you ran away, the night Venom took over—you had all of us floored! You could have infected us then and there, but you didn't do it. You turned and you ran back to HYDRA. Why?"

"Because that was the plan!" Venom snapped. "It was the plan to return and lure you to Germany, the plan to—!"

"The plan was to infect us, and you could have done it then and there. You didn't. Peter, you didn't let him! You were still fighting and winning, even if he wasn't letting you realize it!"

Peter raised his head. What?

"That's not true," Venom insisted. "It's not! I've been in full control since that night in the alleyway, where I surged up and covered the last of his heart in black."

"You thought you weren't having any effect," Tony pressed. "You were fighting, weren't you, Pete? You were trying to get out, but it seemed like you were just pounding your fists against a steel wall."

Peter looked at the walls of his cell, impenetrable as ever.

"But that's not the truth! You were having an effect and Venom was hiding it from you, locking you up so you couldn't see what was really going on! You wouldn't let him really harm us that night, and in Germany you stopped him from doing it again."

"Lies!"

But Peter stared in shock, because he wasn't so sure. Roland had asked, are you in full control this time? And it hadn't made sense, because Venom had made him feel like he had been in control from the very beginning. But…maybe…

"I know you're hurting, kid," Tony said shakily, "but you have to keep fighting this. Do you hear me? You have to."

And what about the debriefing? The moment where Roland had pulled Venom aside and grilled him for hours on what had happened with the Avengers back in New York. Peter had been shut out from that conversation, and he hadn't known why. But if Tony was right…

"You've been holding this thing off since the beginning. And now you're probably not doing too well, but if you give up then you'll die and I promised that I was going to save you. You don't want to make me a liar, right, kid?"

If Tony was right, then Peter had been shut out of that conversation because Venom hadn't wanted him to know the truth. Because Venom hadn't wanted him to know that in that moment, he'd stopped him from killing the Avengers. He'd wanted to convince him that he was useless. That his struggles were doing nothing.

"Please," Tony whispered. "You're strong, kid. You're strong enough to regain control."

Peter clenched and unclenched his fingers. His vision was still blurry around the edges. Breath was still hard to draw. Even if he could fight, what would be the point? If he regained control, it would only be for an inconsequential moment. It wasn't like he could kill Venom through strength of will alone.

But…that wasn't quite true, was it?

Peter glanced over to the chamber that had been specifically designed to kill Venom. At some point during the fight they'd come to stand near the door, which was open and waiting. Steve and Tony would never get him in there. Venom would crush them before they even got close, if he realized that he was about to be killed.

But Peter…Peter could walk in there himself. He could trap himself, and it would be over.

"Kid?"

Peter looked up. Tony was watching him through the cold eyes of his faceplate, but Peter could imagine his expression behind it. He could imagine the pain, the misery, the hurt.

Slowly, steadily, Tony lowered himself to the ground. He took a step forward.

Peter felt Venom's rage surge beneath the surface, but he didn't act. Something outside his cell was shifting. Something didn't feel right.

The room was deathly still. Tony didn't dare to take another step forward, and Steve was motionless as stone.

Peter shifted. He rose to his knees, and his head was pounding and his chest was tight and his blood felt like acid in his veins, but he didn't pass out. He knelt there and blinked.

There was this moment. This moment of stillness and tenseness and general uneasiness. Peter didn't know what was going on.

Then Tony raised a hand, and Peter tensed, and Venom tensed, but all he was doing was raising a hand to his head and putting down his faceplate.

No, Peter thought.

"You're okay," Tony soothed, and now that his face was exposed Peter could see the extent of the desperation in his eyes. "You're okay, kid. We're going to help you."

We're going to help you. But it wasn't true, because there was no cure. The only way out was death or complete assimilation.

Tony took another step forward. He was tense. "See, Peter? You can't hurt me. You're not letting him hurt me because you're strong, so strong." There was this sound, thin and mechanical, and Peter's heart leapt as he saw the plates of the Iron Man suit shifting.

Then Tony stepped out of the suit, performing one of the single most astonishing acts of stupidity that had ever been performed by anyone ever, and Peter was staring in shock as a very human, very vulnerable man stood before him.

He held up a hand, placating. "I trust you," he whispered. "You won't let him do it, kid, I know you won't. You can regain control."

Something twisted in Peter's head. Something snagged. He blinked around the pain, fingers scrabbling along the floor in search of purchase.

Tony took a step closer. He reached out, palm up, like he was inviting Peter to take his hand.

Peter trembled. "Mr. Stark?"

Then he blinked, because he'd felt his lips move.

Tony's expression melted into a terrified sort of relief. "Yeah, kid, you've got it! Keep fighting, okay? Just…keep fighting."

"I-I…" His head hurt. He wasn't sure who was speaking, if it was him or Venom, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He felt torn, like he was splitting down the middle, like he was being wrenched in half. His heart stuttered.

But then—then it happened.

Peter slipped.

His fingers lost their grip on the cold stone floor. The snag in his head was undone. And suddenly he was moving.

He didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't him. But it was still his arms that reached out, still his body that threw itself to one side faster than Tony could react. It was still his body that gripped the gun, the one with that single infectious charge.

It was his body that turned and pulled the trigger.

"Tony!"

Steve threw his shield. He was trying to intercept the contagion before it hit Tony's bare flesh, before it doomed him too. But Venom, in that crucial moment, had shoved Peter back down and done what he was meant to do.

Viscous fluid slammed into Tony's chest, clinging to his bare skin with a sickening note of finality, and it was done.

Chapter Text

Peter watched Tony fall.

He watched him slam back into his suit, the metal sealing around him automatically as it detected the presence of its creator, then teeter for a moment before crashing to the ground.

Tony had been contaminated.

And something inside Peter…imploded.

It was like a supernova, like a burning explosion of power that surged through him and set every nerve alight. He didn't realize he was screaming until he wasn't anymore, and he was suddenly kneeling on the ground with his arms wrapped around himself and blood dripping from his lips.

He could feel Venom. He felt fists pounding on the inside of his mind, wrought with raw fury. But no, he couldn't let him out. He couldn't let it happen again.

He'd killed Tony. He'd killed him. Even if he wasn't dead now, the contagion would make short work of someone as human as him.

"Peter!"

He looked up, and Steve was kneeling in front of him. Not with Tony, not making sure he was okay—but with him. He clasped his hands to Peter's shoulders and looked him in the face. There was this look in his eyes that Peter couldn't identify.

"I-I…" He trailed off, choking on a mouthful of blood. Venom was tearing him apart from the inside, struggling to regain control, and it was killing him. "I'm n-not sure how l-long I can…"

Steve watched him, deadly serious, and asked him only one question. "What are you going to do?"

He appreciated it. He appreciated that Steve was asking rather than telling, even though there was only one way forward.

Peter tilted his chin toward the chamber.

And Steve understood, as he'd understood right from the beginning. Peter was glad it was him. He wasn't glad that Tony was infected, but he was glad that he was the one struggling to regain his footing, struggling to stop the world from spinning, as Cap stood firm. Because if it was Tony, he would never have agreed. But Steve—Steve did.

Steve looked at him, and he nodded.

Peter clawed his way to his feet. Every movement was agony, every second tearing more and more of him away. Venom was swelling under his skin, pressing at the inside of his ribcage, needling at his brain. But he couldn't let him in. The supernova of his rage was keeping the parasite at bay. He was going to keep it that way for at least a few moments longer.

He staggered forward, nearly slamming into the ground with every other step, and then he was there.

Peter fell to the ground inside the chamber. He couldn't see Steve, couldn't see much of anything, but still he managed, "Close it!"

There was the sound of a fist slamming to vibranium, then the swish of doors sliding closed.

The chamber was sealed.

Peter almost slumped with relief. It's over. It's…finally over.

Venom pressed at his mind, and he didn't have the strength to resist him any longer.

"No! No, no, no, you fools! Let me out, I'm too powerful to be here, I'm too strong! I'm meant to destroy you! It's my purpose!"

Peter slumped against the cell, trapped again, but at least trapped with a sense of accomplishment. He'd done it. The chamber was lined with vibranium, and there would be no breaking it.

They would die here, together.

Steve watched him grimly. Behind him, Tony was just getting to his feet and wrenching himself back out of the suit. Then he turned and saw Peter—saw Venom, raging and punching the glass and screaming, and he went pale.

"No," Tony whispered. "No, Peter—!"

Peter closed his eyes. Now that the surge of adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel nothing but pain. He could feel the blood. He could feel his shredded insides.

I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm so sorry.

Tony pressed his palms to the glass like he wanted to phase through it. "Open it!" he begged. "He resisted, he was there, I can still save him!"

Steve's expression twisted. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "It's over."

"No!"

Peter felt a spark of bitter amusement through the haze. He'd failed Tony, he knew that. He should have been more careful on that mission, the one that had ended in his contamination. But at the very least, he'd done one good thing before his death. He'd gotten Venom—or at least, this part of Venom—into the containment unit.

Steve's hand landed on Tony's shoulder. "We have to turn it on. The longer we wait, the more he suffers."

"I said no! I can still save him, Rogers, you saw that he was alive!"

"Tony," Steve said. "Look at him."

Peter knew how he must have looked. There was blood all down his front, dripping from his mouth and his nose. His skin was pale and cold as stone.

"It's time," Steve whispered. "You have to let him go."

"I can't!"

"You can. You have to, Tony, for his sake. He's hurting. You have the power to make that stop."

"But—!"

Steve put a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. "It's the only way."

Tony faltered. He looked at Peter, and Peter looked at him, and his heart ached. With what strength he had left, he raised a hand to the man. But his body wouldn't move.

Steve walked over to the control panel outside the chamber. "Ten minutes," he said softly. "The filter will suck all the heat and oxygen from the chamber. He'll lose consciousness in two minutes, maybe three, and the rest will be painless."

Tony glared at the ground. His elbows were locked at his sides, fingers curled into fists.

Steve flipped up the covering over the control panel. His finger hovered over the button. Then he paused. "Are…are you ready, Peter?"

Venom roared and threw himself at the glass.

Peter took as deep a breath as he could. I'm ready. It's time to end this.

Steve looked to Tony. But the man said nothing, and so Steve reached out and hit the button that would start the drain.

"I'm drawing out the heat first," Steve said quietly, and Peter knew because he felt it. The warmth drained from the room, his muscles seized in the freezing cold, and all that was left was ice.

He felt the pain, but it was somehow removed. Like, he'd been the one absorbing all of the pain from the fight against the Avengers, but now it wasn't him. Now it was Venom, struggling to stay on his feet and shrieking as he tried to get out and kill Steve and Tony. And Peter felt nothing, just this suffocating sense of numbness.

The walls around him vibrated, then shifted just a hair closer, but he didn't care. He let the back of his head settle against the ground, limbs falling limp at his sides. His eyes slid closed, and this time he didn't fight it.

It's okay to let go now.

Yes…he could finally stop struggling. He could feel the cold settling into his bones, bringing Venom to his knees. The goopy mess that covered his skin was growing brittle.

Your fight is over.

Venom went down, limbs locked as his exterior fused around him. The cold had rendered him immobile, even with his incredible strength. He was quite literally frozen on the outside, and it was quickly making its way to the interior. Soon it would be over. Soon he'd be able to just…let go.

Peter's coherency had slipped, and although he couldn't hear it, Tony and Steve were still talking.

"Peter," Tony whispered. And if Peter could have seen him, he would have seen that he was shaking.

Steve's expression twisted. "I'm sorry, Tony," he said again. "It will be over soon."

Tony closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch, but he felt that refusing to look would be doing Peter a disservice in his final moments. "He fought so goddamn hard for us," he rasped. "He gave us everything."

Steve grit his teeth. "I'm starting the oxygen drain."

Peter didn't understand it, but he heard it. He heard something in the roof of the containment unit shift, metal plates adjusting. Then the thing started sucking the air right out of the chamber, and Peter's lungs burned. It was another push toward the edge, and he could do nothing to stop it.

Do you hear that? Two minutes, maybe three, and we'll be out. Then it will just be a matter of waiting for you to die.

But Venom didn't respond. He was too busy gasping with Peter's lungs, struggling to draw breath through his cracked lips. But there was no air, none at all, and the parasite knew it. He sprawled flat on his back and choked.

See you in hell, monster.

Steve frowned and jostled the panel. "Hang on, the grate is stuck. Let me just…"

Then the metal plates shifted again and Peter's entire body pulsed with agony as the air leaving the chamber created the worst sound he'd ever heard in his life.

Venom screamed.

Steve recoiled in horror, Tony not far behind in his alarm. "What the hell? What's going on?"

Tony's eyes went wide. "Cap, your chest!"

"No—no, your chest, what on earth…?"

But that was all Peter heard. There was this awful pressure in his head and this burning in his lungs, slowly spreading to envelop every inch of his body. A pulse of dizziness behind his eyes took away his vision and left him reeling. He tried to move, but his limbs had the structural integrity of jello. He thought he heard someone yelling, heard the doors to the first chamber opening, but it was far too late for him to react.

The weight on his chest won out.

Tony stared in shock as Steve adjusted the vents and Venom started screaming. He was so taken aback that he actually jumped backward.

Then he saw Steve's chest, and he decided that his shock was well founded.

"Cap, your chest!"

"No—no, your chest, what on earth…?"

Tony looked down at himself, ears still ringing with Venom's screams, and his blood ran cold. When Roland had shot him, his entire front had been soaked through with the parasitic goop. It was too early for him to experience the full effects (though he had felt a brief surge of dizziness, of disorientation), so he hadn't thought about it too hard. He'd wanted to save the thinking for after they saved Peter.

But now he was looking down, looking at the place his shirt was stained dark, and watching as the goop tried to twist away from him.

It was like it had a mind of its own. It writhed as if in pain, struggling to free itself from Tony's shirt. He winced as it yanked out the fine hairs on his chest and stomach, ungluing itself from him.

Across from him, Steve was going through the same thing. The goop was tugging itself loose, gathering up into a ball and splatting on the ground and shaking like it was somehow dying even without the use of the de-oxygenation chamber.

"What the hell?" Tony burst out. Everything they'd seen suggested that Venom was like glue. Trying to get the stuff off of Peter's skin had been impossible, so why…?

Oh god—Peter!

Tony whipped around, eyes wide, and found himself looking at a nightmare.

Venom was melting. Melting from around Peter, pooling beneath him and rippling and jumping and doing everything in its power to get away. He still had control—that much was obvious from the way Peter was wailing, limbs twitching as he fought against whatever was affecting him—but at the very least Tony could see that something was changing.

"Is it the de-oxygenation?" Steve asked in a daze. "The—the cold?" He stepped away from the goop pooled at his feet, which made no attempt to grab onto him again. All it did was sit there and writhe.

Something in Tony's brain clicked. "The sound," he said.

"What sound?"

"Listen," he whispered. "The grates on the chamber—you said they were stuck?"

"Yes…?"

"The air rushing through them is creating a sound, high pitched like a dog whistle. It's sound, Rogers, that's the key!"

Steve's eyes went wide. "Oh no."

"Turn it off. Turn it off now, the cold and the lack of oxygen is going to kill him!" His mind worked overtime to figure out if they still had a chance here. Peter had been in the freezing cold without air for maybe two minutes, so if they could just get the thing shut off fast enough…

But Steve wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving?

"We can't do it yet!" Steve protested when Tony made a lunge for the panel. "Tony, listen to me! The kid is dying, he might not even have a chance—but if we want to give him the best odds of living through this, we have to get Venom off of him now!"

Tony swiped at the panel, blind with panic. "He's going to die, what the hell are you doing? Shut it the fuck off! We can replicate the sound without starving him of oxygen!"

Steve held him at bay effortlessly in the absence of the suit. "I can shut off the cold," he said, voice tight, "but the oxygen has to stay. It will take too long to replicate that exact frequency; by the time we do he'll be gone!"

Tony slumped. "You're going to kill him," he whispered.

"He's going to die if we don't do this, Tony. You know that."

He did. He knew. But listening to Venom scream with Peter's voice, knowing that his kid was suffering…

Steve clasped a hand to his shoulder. His expression was grim. "We have to wait," he said. "I know it hurts, but this is the only way he stands a chance."

Tony stepped back, chest tight, as Steve flipped the heat back on. His fingertips rested over the switch that would stop the de-oxygenation, but he didn't flip it yet. He waited.

They both waited.

Tony wanted to close his eyes again, as he watched Venom slowly extricating himself from Peter's body in an attempt to get away from the sound. But he didn't. He owed it to this kid, this young, sweet, innocent kid, to watch over him in what very well could be his final moments. He owed him.

The seconds ticked away. Venom was almost off of him, almost gone…

"Tony," Steve said in a low tone, "get in there now. You're going to have to drag Peter into the first chamber and seal the door in between, that way Venom doesn't reattach when I flip the oxygen back on."

He moved as fast as he could. The suit sealed around him, prepared to supply him with oxygen as he went in after the kid, and then Steve was pressing a button and he was stepping into the initial chamber.

It was torture, waiting for the chamber to de-oxygenate so he could grab Peter. The hiss was a sickening undertone to Peter's screams, which were growing few and far between as the thing controlling him was stripped away.

But the most horrifying thing was when Venom fully retreated, and Peter's screams stopped.

"Tony, now!"

The doors slammed down, and Tony dove into the chamber.

Venom was bubbling and writhing on the ground, silent without a mouth with which to scream. But Tony's focus wasn't on him. It was on the kid, lying still and pale on the ground. He grabbed him, cringing at how he flopped lifelessly against his shoulder, and wrenched him back into the first chamber with all the strength he had. The doors slid closed behind him, Steve slammed his fist into the panel, and Tony wrenched himself out of his suit as the chamber flooded with oxygen.

And Peter—Peter didn't move.

Tony's heart nearly stopped. "Steve, he's not breathing!"

"Then resuscitate him!" was the sharp response. "I'm getting Bruce; keep him alive until I get back!"

Oh god. It was terrifying, to have Peter's life in his hands, but still Tony tried to pull himself together. Shit! Hold on, kid, I've got you…

He had to move quickly. He rolled Peter onto his back and settled his hands on the kid's chest, starting compressions. On and on, until he had to break to pinch the kid's nose and tilt his head back and breathe for him. Then more compressions. As he reached the third set, he thought it was too late. He thought it was over.

But then Peter gasped, albeit somewhat shakily, and Tony slumped with relief.

He shouldn't have been so quick to assume that everything was okay, just because Peter was breathing.

"Kid!" Tony exclaimed, shaking him a little to try and get his attention. "Kid, you gotta focus on me—come on, deep breaths!"

But Peter just spluttered and choked, eyes focused on nothing, and Tony's worry grew stronger and stronger for every moment he wasn't able to draw a good breath.

He tapped at the kid's cheeks. "Come on, snap out of it!Eyes on me, Peter, you can do it!"

Peter blinked repeatedly, still coughing, still reeling from the trauma of the past few minutes, but managed to look up at him.

Tony's heart sank. Peter's eyes were glassy and feverish, and his skin was so pale that almost resembled a china doll. There was a dangerous flush to his cheeks.

We don't know how much of Peter the parasite has already consumed, he remembered Bruce saying. If it's gotten to his vital organs, it might be too late. We'll get the parasite out and Peter's body won't be able to function without it.

And what had Venom said?

I'm already in his lungs, Tony Stark.

Peter opened his mouth, and blood dripped out.

"Hey," Tony said, alarmed. "You're okay. You're okay, Peter, you just have to keep focusing. Focus on me."

He made this thin, rasping sound that made Tony's chest hurt. "M-Mr.—Mr. S-Stark?"

"Yeah, kid. It's me. Can you keep your eyes on mine?"

Peter's gaze slid in and out of focus. "Is…is h-he dead…?"

"He is," Tony assured in a soft tone. "He's gone, and Steve is going for help, so you have to stay with me."

Peter's head tried to loll to one side, and Tony had to quickly pull the kid into his lap to stop him from hurting himself. He made that sound again, the sound Tony now thought might be a laugh, but nothing seemed funny.

"Are…y-you…?" Peter tried and failed to raise a hand, which Tony quickly caught between his fingers.

"I'm fine," he said, because he knew what Peter was trying to ask. It was just like him to ask about Tony's safety while he himself was dying. "It's sound, Pete, can you believe that? Something about that dog whistle sound made Venom tuck his tail between his legs and run. I—I don't know how it works, but it got rid of him."

Peter blinked like he was trying to stop the world from spinning. "Oh," he said simply.

Tony wrung the kid's hand in his. "Focus," he reminded him. "Bruce is on his way. He's going to patch you up."

Peter tried to smile at him. His lower lip trembled. "S-sorry, Mr. Stark…I…I-I d-don't think…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, kid! You're going to live!"

The smile slid off Peter's face as some kind of tremor seized him, and his muscles locked momentarily. By the time it passed, he was gasping.

"Peter—!"

The kid squeezed his fingers once, weakly, and Tony's voice died in his throat. "Mr. Stark," he whispered.

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, kid?"

"D-did…did I do good?"

He choked on nothing. "God, kid…you did so good, you stopped Venom from killing us all. And once you're back on your feet I'm going to reward you with the biggest Lego set I can find, how about that?"

Peter snorted. "H-haven't touched Lego in…in a y-year, Mr. Stark."

"Then how about a pizza party? You can help Clint with pranks again, and I don't think Natasha will even try to kill you this time."

Peter smiled at him. He was shaking. "Can t-there…be p-pineapple?"

"Of course there can be pineapple," he soothed, putting his free hand on Peter's heaving chest as if to steady it. "We'll get like, twenty whole pizzas just with pineapple for you and Steve to share. You know how much that weirdo likes fruit on non-fruit-compatible foods."

That same tension gripped Peter's muscles again. When it left, he looked just a little more distant. His chest wasn't heaving as hard now, but it wasn't because breathing was easier.

"Hey," Tony whispered again. "Hey, Pete—remember to focus, okay?"

Peter's eyelids drooped a little. "I'm f-focusing, Mr. Stark. I-I…I think Venom p-poked a few holes before he…"

"Bruce will sew those holes right up." Tony risked a glance at the door, praying to hear Bruce's footsteps approaching. "He'll get Dr. Cho and throw you in the regeneration cradle and you'll be all better."

"D-doesn't work if y-you're not…completely human…"

Tony shushed him. "Either way, you'll be fine. Bruce is coming."

"R-right…" Peter trailed off to cough, wet and thick with blood. "B-but…just in case…in case I don't—"

"No," Tony said bluntly. "You're going to make it. Just keep your eyes right here."

Peter didn't even seem to hear him. "I'm glad I was here," he whispered.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Moisture was gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Glad it w-was you," Peter said, probably in attempt to clarify. His voice was softer now. His breaths were shallow and quick. "Glad I-I got to s-spend…spend time w-with…"

"Yeah," Tony agreed quickly, before the kid could finish, because if Peter said that final word then he was going to cry. "We're all glad we got to spend time with you, too. You're a real asset to the team, do you hear me? A real Avenger. You always have been, and you always will be."

One corner of Peter's lips turned upward. His eyes were barely open.

"Kid—kid, no, keep looking at me!"

He smiled. "T-thank you, Mr. S-Stark. I…"

"Peter!"

But Peter's eyes were already closed. And as Tony knelt there, helpless to do anything but hold him and watch, his chest stuttered once, twice, and drew to a halt.

Bruce and a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical team burst through the door.

Chapter Text

A cluster of people burst through the doors, and everything turned chaotic and awful.

Tony didn't quite know what had happened on the outside as he tried to keep Peter alive, but he could guess because those were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents running into the room. A medical team, complete with Helen Cho at its head. Bruce was beside her, flushed and panting like he'd run a mile, and Steve wasn't far behind.

It must be morning, Tony thought numbly as they approached, yelling words he couldn't hear. S.H.I.E.L.D. showed up to kill Peter.

But that was all he thought, because after that everything just blurred together.

Steve tore him away from Peter, he knew that much. Tore him away and set him against the wall and said, "Good, Tony, you did good, they'll take care of him now," like he didn't know that the kid was dead.

He saw the medical team swarm over Peter like ants. He saw Helen motioning wildly at her team, barking orders. He saw the defibrillators come out. Then he saw nothing but Steve's broad shoulders, because he was kneeling in front of him and blocking his view.

"They've got him."

It was less his hearing and more his ability to read lips that let him know what Steve was saying.

They took him away from Peter after that. Steve took him out of the room, probably upon Helen's request, stashing him cleanly away from the kid. He didn't know what they were doing to him, if he was even alive, if he even stood a chance at being alive. No one would say anything to him about what really mattered.

Steve was still talking to him. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd been removed from the room.

"Everyone is okay," Steve told him for the hundredth time. "Nat and the others got to the team in the basement before they could hook Venom up to the sprinkler system, and they killed what remained of him using the chamber."

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear it.

"Sam is going to be just fine too. They got him into the chamber and hit him with different frequencies until they found the right one. Then they locked Venom in the second chamber, blasted him with freezing temperatures and sucked all the oxygen out, and he died."

It sounded so simple. Like Peter hadn't had to die twice, and maybe a third time, for this to happen.

"Tony," Steve said. His voice was suddenly tight with something like misery, something like desperation. "You have to talk to me."

He started. "Is the kid going to live?"

Steve's expression went kind of funny and he said, "I know as much as you do. They've had him locked up since I got you out of there, and the doctors are too busy trying to save his life to give us an update."

It was good, in a way. If they were busy, then there was a chance. They were doing everything in their power to save him.

"We're not going to know anything for hours, probably," Steve said. "You have to pick yourself up until then. The team has to see that you're okay."

"Am I okay?" Tony bit out. "I just had to hold that kid as he died, Rogers."

Again, his expression twisted. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Tony."

"You've said that a lot in the past hour."

"Because I am! I…I know how it feels, to watch someone you care about die right in front of you while you're helpless to do anything to stop it."

Tony faltered. He…he hadn't considered.

Steve let his eyes slip closed for just a moment. "Look, I just…I'm sorry that you had to go through this. But more than that, I know how freaked out the team is and how worried they are, about you and Peter. They need to see you strong right now."

A flicker of bitter amusement shot through him. "The burden of leadership, right, Cap?"

He dipped his head. "We're never allowed to falter. Not even for a moment."

Tony smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He took Steve's hand when he offered it, pulling him to his feet. It was only then that he recognized where he was and what time it was, and how long had really passed.

"Seven hours?" he asked, disbelieving. "It felt like seven minutes!"

Steve gave a pained shrug. "You…kind of stared at the wall for a long time."

He looked away. "I'm glad Pepper is still on vacation. I sure as hell don't want her to see this."

"Maybe you should call her. She'll want to know."

"Yeah," he sighed, because Steve was right. "I'll do that once I have all the information."

"It'll probably be hours," he repeated.

"Then I'll wait. Or at least…I'll wait a while longer, then go out and see the team."

Steve watched him for a moment, looking just as tired as Tony felt. Then he relented, stepped forward, and Tony watched as the man's back hit the wall and he slid down to sit on the floor beside him.

"Okay," Steve said. "I'm waiting with you."

So they sat, and they waited.

An unfortunate number of hours later, they got the news.

They were all sitting in the same room when it happened, staring at nothing and waiting for the other shoe to drop. No one was seriously injured, but they were all gravely concerned for their missing teammate. No one seemed to know what to say.

Until something beeped, and FRIDAY said, "Boss, you have an incoming call from Bruce Banner."

Tony shot upright in his seat at the exact same time as everyone else. "Answer it!

"Yes, boss."

Tony whipped out his phone, held it flat, and an image of Bruce projected up in front of him. He looked frazzled, hair all out of place, skin a bit pale, but mostly okay.

He was on his feet in an instant. "What's the word, Banner? Is the kid okay?"

Bruce winced, and the sick feeling in Tony's chest intensified. The room was dead silent. "Tony, he's…he's alive, but—"

Tony slumped, relief washing through him. Peter was alive. He was alive. Any other complications could be dealt with, because he was still breathing.

"You need to listen," Bruce said, because he saw the way Tony had relaxed. "He's alive, Tony, but it's serious. They're not sure how long he'll last, if he'll be gone in a few hours or pull through to tomorrow."

Steve stepped up next to Tony, putting himself in frame. "Where are you?" he asked. "That background doesn't look familiar."

Tony realized with a start that he was correct. Bruce was surrounded by strange machines that certainly weren't anywhere in the Avengers compound.

"Yeah, about that…" Bruce looked away guiltily. "I should have said something earlier, but we had to lift him off site and we were too busy trying to keep him alive to contact you."

Oh boy, this is going to be good. "Just tell me where you are, Banner."

"We…kind of ended up in Wakanda?"

"What?"

"That's an eight hour flight aboard one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s specialized jets at dangerous speeds," Steve said, eyes wide. "How did you keep him alive?"

"Dr. Cho is amazing," he said simply. "It was touch and go for a while, and it still is, but we called ahead and got him here and they…they worked wonders, guys. He's in good hands."

Tony wasn't fooled, though. There was something dark in Bruce's eyes.

Steve seemed to sense it too. "That can't be the whole story."

"Well…" Again, he trailed off. "I guess it's not quite that simple. When we got him into surgery, we realized that Venom had essentially shredded most of his vital organs."

It was just as he'd feared. Venom had become so integrated that his removal had caused Peter severe internal damage.

"It's a miracle he made it to Wakanda in the first place," Bruce said in a low tone. "His heart stopped again on the jet, and we think his healing factor is the only thing that kept him breathing. His cells replace themselves so quickly that he just managed to hang on. Once we got to Wakanda, we rushed him into surgery and did everything we could to repair the damage."

"What are the results?" Steve asked.

"We're not sure yet. His heart is beating, and he's breathing with the aid of a ventilator, but…" He shook his head. "Look, I could explain better if you were here. The doctors here tried something pretty experimental, so…just get down here, okay?"

Tony's stomach tied itself into knots. "We'll be there as soon as we can. If anything changes, tell us."

Bruce nodded. "Of course."

The ride to Wakanda was one of the most difficult periods of time Tony had ever experienced.

For those hours, he sat in his seat and watched the clouds roll by and tried to pretend that his kid wasn't an inch from death on an entirely different continent. There hadn't been any news from Bruce, so he knew that Peter was still breathing, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried out of his mind. Bruce's words had been anything but positive, and Tony knew that something was going on. Something Bruce didn't want to tell him.

The whole time, all he could think was that it was his fault. He'd let Peter go on that mission to Germany instead of Wanda or Vision or even Sam, and he'd taken him down that hallway and sprung the trap himself. If he'd been more careful, Peter never would have fallen into that pit.

But he knew what the kid would say to that. It's not your fault, Mr. Stark. I knew the risks, so it was on me. And even more terrifyingly, I'd rather it be me than you.

Tony shuddered.

By the time the jet touched down in Wakanda, he was practically vibrating in his seat. Steve, the only other Avenger to accompany him on the journey, was watching with worry.

Then the doors opened, Tony tore off of the plane, and Bruce was there to meet him.

"Where is he?" Tony demanded. "He's still alive, right? How is he?"

Bruce raised his hands in a placating gesture. "He's alive, and we're keeping him in a private room for now while he rests. He's out of surgery, but we're not sure when he'll wake up. Or…or if he'll wake up, Tony."

He grit his teeth. "Tell me what you did. This experimental treatment or whatever, what is it?"

Bruce looked past him, locking eyes with Steve as he emerged from the plane. "Let's go inside," he said. "It'll be easier to explain once we're all sitting down."

Bruce led them into the medical compound, weaving past personnel tending to other patients. T'Challa was nowhere in sight, but no one seemed alarmed to see two other Avengers crashing through the compound so he guessed that Bruce had called ahead.

"In here," Bruce said, opening a door and motioning for Steve and Tony to step inside. When they did, Tony saw that they were in what looked like a small lab.

"Ah, Dr. Banner! You have returned."

There—there was another kid. A girl around Peter's age with sharp features and a sharper smile. Tony stared for a moment, taken aback, until Bruce stepped past him and took up the conversation.

"Guys," he said, "this is Shuri. She's the one that led the effort to develop an effective cure for Venom."

"Well you did great," Tony snapped, anger overriding his social graces (which were already borderline to begin with).

Shuri's nose wrinkled. "I very well may have just saved his life, Stark, as you'd do well to remember."

"Well maybe I would remember if someone would tell me what the hell is going on!"

Steve's hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back. "Sorry about him," he said, like Tony wasn't even there. "He's a little on edge."

Shuri looked at him, then at Tony, and the severity of her expression lessened. "I think we all are, Captain." Then she stepped away from them and started rifling through the beakers and test tubes sitting on one of the counters. "Let's see…Dr. Banner, if you wouldn't mind filling them in while I look for the right sample?"

Bruce nodded. "Have a seat, guys. You're gonna need it for this."

"Geez, will you just spit it out already? What is it? Is he in a coma? Is he half robot? Is he missing an arm?"

Bruce cringed. "Okay, okay. I think I said this already, but the parasite had somehow absorbed a lot of Peter's tissue. Large portions of his major organs had been replaced by that goop, and removing it made them start to shut down. And Peter heals quick, but not quick enough to repair major organ damage. My first thought was to stick him in the regeneration cradle, but it's not prepared to handle someone who's not one hundred percent human. So we needed something else, some kind of synthetic substance to hold him together."

"So it's the robot thing," Tony said. "That's okay, we'll love him no matter how much of his body is metal."

"…Not exactly. Metal would be useful for a prosthetic limb, but a prosthetic lung? A prosthetic kidney? Even Wakanda isn't quite there yet, not on any sustainable level. We had to act fast, and the only way was—"

"Ah, here it is!" Shuri turned around, placing two beakers in front of Steve and Tony. One was bubbling with Venom, and the other looked like it was full of thick, clear liquid. There were little bubbles rising to the surface. "Do not worry," she said, seeing their unease. "The parasite is perfectly contained."

Bruce took a small step back. "…That," he finished. "That was the only way."

Tony's eyes fixed on the two beakers. "What am I looking at here?"

"The God from the Machine, Tony Stark."

"Okay, yeah, I have no idea what that means."

Shuri smiled and picked up the container full of black goop. "I studied this creature extensively in search of a cure, and I did not find one. However I did learn quite a bit about its chemical composition, and how HYDRA might have constructed it. There is this part—" She shook the blackened beaker—"and the other." She shook the beaker filled with clear liquid. "Or something like that, anyway. It's all very complicated, and it took me many days to fully understand."

Tony shifted impatiently. "Can I get a summary?"

Bruce pointed at the black goop. "That's bad." He pointed at the clear goop. "That's good."

Shuri pursed her lips. "The summary is this: Venom was created in two parts. One was the binding agent, the fluid designed to seep into the host's body and replace the organs that Venom chose to dissolve. The other part is the consciousness, the drive to possess and twist and assimilate. Add them together, and you get—similar to human beings—a mind and a body. But tell me, what happens to a body when the mind is removed?"

"It dies," Steve said flatly.

"In some cases, yes. But I am sure you are aware that there are some people with no mind at all, and a body that continues to function with the aid of machinery."

"Brain-dead patients," Tony muttered. What the hell did any of this have to do with Peter? Surely Shuri wasn't suggesting that Peter was…?

"Exactly," she said. "So in theory, if we were to remove Venom's mind from the body he's been given, we could be left with just the base substance. A substance, I remind you, that is intended to hold the host together while Venom's conscious mind tears them to pieces."

Tony went pale. "You'd better not be saying what I think you're saying."

"Of course, to even attempt such a thing is insane. It seems impossible, does it not? To sever the consciousness from the body. But it happens in humans all the time, so I was determined to make it happen in this creature as well. And I accomplished it! In my search for a cure, it was one step in the process. I did not even consider the fact that it might come in handy, after it bore no fruit in producing a cure. But then Peter was brought to me, with holes where Venom's body had been removed from his, and I thought—what if there was a way to fill those holes, to save his life?"

"Tell me," Tony said, voice trembling, "that you didn't inject that stuff back into my kid."

"It is not the same substance, Tony Stark. Do not fret."

Tony sank back his chair, horrified and not sure how to respond. He didn't realize Bruce was trying to talk to him for several moments, and when he did he didn't feel like he really understood the words.

"…the only way," Bruce was saying, "you have to trust me on this. If we hadn't done it, Peter wouldn't be alive right now. Don't get me wrong, it was incredibly stupid and very dangerous, but it's keeping him stable."

"How do you know?" Steve asked, deathly serious. "How do you know you didn't just infect him again?"

"He is infected," Shuri said. "There were too many holes in his organs, so much tissue missing that he would have died without being infected for a second time. However when I did it, I injected him only with the good of HYDRA's experiment. In effect, I shot a type of glue into his bloodstream that will replace what has been taken."

Tony didn't know what to say. He stared at that beaker on the table, filled with thick goop that looked exactly like what Peter had fallen into at the HDYRA compound, but clear instead of black, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking that they were right back at square one.

"But how do you know?" Steve repeated. "You might think you've removed the conscious mind, but what if you haven't? What if he wakes up and tries to kill us?"

"Then there will be no hope."

Bruce jumped in. "Look, I know this is insane. But I saw the evidence; I really think that we're onto something here. That stuff is going to patch Peter up on the inside in ways we can't even imagine. It's going to keep him alive."

"What," Tony rasped, "forever? He's just going to have that stuff inside him for the rest of his life?"

"It shouldn't hurt him," Bruce said softly. "We're not sure about the long term effects, but the research we've done so far suggests that he won't even be able to feel it. It might even enhance his healing factor, or increase his lifespan. It's going to help him, Tony."

"If it doesn't make him want to kill us again."

He winced. "Yeah. But he shouldn't! Shuri was very thorough, as were her lab assistants. I trust her."

"How touching," she deadpanned. Then, to Tony, "Our scans indicate that the binding agent is working for the time being. His organs are not yet functioning as they should, but they are working well enough to keep him from dying. In the meantime, we will work to repair what we can. Who knows? Perhaps one day we will be able to extract the parasite for good, and his body will return to the way it was."

Bruce shot her a look. "Let's just worry about the next twenty-four hours for now. We're shaky on just fixing his body, and his brain is another thing entirely."

Shuri sobered at that, the almost childlike excitement draining off her face. "He was without oxygen for several minutes initially, and then his heart stopped once more on the way here. There is brain activity, but it is muted."

But it was there. All that mattered was that it was there.

"This is going to be dangerous," Bruce said. "Between making sure the binding agent doesn't start dissolving and replacing what remains of his organs, monitoring his vitals to make sure the process doesn't push them too high or too low, and keeping an eye on his brain activity…it's going to be very close. But there's a chance he'll live."

Then he would hang onto that chance, for as long as he could.

"If anyone can do it it's him," Steve said. And they were empty words, but they still made Tony feel at least a little better.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

Shuri rose. "I will take you to him now."

She led him through a few winding hallways, through a few doors, and then they were stepping into a private room with one bed in the corner and a heap of machinery whirring and beeping and keeping Peter alive.

Tony's heart sank when he saw him. The black-stained suit had been stripped away and replaced with a hospital gown, and the pasty green color did nothing to hide the paleness of his skin. And the tubes—they were everywhere, around his face, over his nose, down his throat, in his wrists…

Shuri walked over to one of the machines and tapped at the hologram hovering over it. "This is designed to scan him every hour for irregularities. If what remains of Venom begins to compromise him, we will hopefully be warned."

"Hopefully," Tony muttered. But he was more focused on the steady rise and fall of Peter's chest, pushed along by the ventilator. He would have looked dead, if not for that motion. He was so incredibly pale.

"His fever's spiked," Bruce whispered to Shuri, but Tony heard him loud and clear.

"Yes," was the hushed response, "but there is little we can do. His metabolism runs at an incredibly elevated pace; no sooner have I given him the medicine than he burns through it. You know as well as I that treating him has been…difficult."

Bruce pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Tell me about it."

Tony tried to imagine it. He tried to imagine that at that moment, as they sat there and whispered to each other about fevers and medicine and metabolisms, that Peter's organs were being stitched up by the very thing that had nearly killed him. That still might kill him. But it was difficult, when the blackness was gone and all that remained was the nearly translucent human skin. He couldn't imagine that as he stood there, Peter's insides were half synthetic.

What would happen when he woke up? If he woke up?

Steve seemed to sense where his thoughts were headed, because he put a hand on his back and broke him out of his stupor. "I'll sit here with you for a while, if you like. We can talk about whatever you want."

It was a transparent attempt to cheer him up, and any other time Tony would have teased him about being the mother hen of the team, but now he didn't have the energy. He nodded and sat when a chair was pushed his way.

"Hey," Steve murmured, "he's a strong kid. He'll pull through."

"Yeah," Bruce said, "and we're going to do everything we can to keep him here with us."

Shuri dipped her head. "I have fought for his life for days already, Tony Stark, attempting to find a cure. I will not so easily allow him to escape my grasp now."

He looked away and said, "Thanks, guys." And it was all he could say.

Then he settled down to wait out the hours.

Three weeks.

Tony was in Wakanda for three weeks. Peter was unconscious for three weeks. The world stood still for three weeks.

As Tony's world stalled, all of the other Avengers kept moving. Even Steve left Wakanda on the third day to go to Germany and clean up any traces of HYDRA's experiments. The team swept the area, gathered up all of the contagion, and destroyed it back at the Avengers compound. There was none of Venom left—except for what was lingering in Peter's body.

Other issues were dealt with too. Ross showed up, because of course he did, and apparently there had been a complete hissy fit as he tried to punish the Avengers for something they'd done right. Tony wasn't entirely sure how it had all played out—he thought he remembered something about Ross trying to show up in Wakanda to yell at him personally, but he also remembered T'Challa telling the Avengers that if Ross set one foot in his home with the intention of harming his guests, he'd tear him limb from limb and deliver the pieces back to S.H.I.E.L.D. wrapped and topped with a bow.

Ross didn't show up in Wakanda.

Over those three weeks, Tony was peppered with updates from Shuri. Bruce had left Wakanda to help deal with the rest of Venom, leaving Tony as the sole Avenger watching over Peter, and so he was alone in dealing with the news that Shuri brought him.

"Decreased brain activity today," she'd say one day, tapping at holograms and working with the machines in the room. She was more of a scientist than a medic; she hadn't performed the surgeries or done anything other than figure out how to split Venom's consciousness from his body, but she still chose to come in and read Tony the figures every day. He suspected that she knew how unstable he was, and she was doing what she thought was best to help ground him. If that meant walking in for a few minutes every day just to tell him how Peter was doing, then she was going to do it.

Other days, the news would be better. Shuri would walk in and say, "He fought off that fever he had yesterday." Or, "The scans are looking better and better every hour. I see no signs of Venom's consciousness attempting to reinstate itself." Or better yet, "I believe that if he is going to wake up, he will do it soon."

But maybe she shouldn't have said that, because Tony spent the next forty-eight hours staring at the monitors and waiting for Peter to wake up. It didn't happen, and eventually he got a call from Pepper (Shuri, the traitor, had contacted Bruce to tell him what was going on, who had contacted Pepper, who had immediately contacted him) in which she snapped at him to get some rest until he actually did. When he woke up Peter hadn't shifted, and he was back to waiting.

Until one day, out of nowhere, the waiting was over.

Chapter Text

For a very long time, Peter's world was dark.

He'd seen lots of movies and read lots of books where the main character was knocked into a coma. Most of the time there was like, a dream world that they had to escape from in order to return to the real world, or some kind of trauma they had to work out before they were ready to wake up. They'd spend their time floating through memory after memory, examining their life, and by the time they woke up they would understand everything about their reality. They would understand themselves.

Well. The reality wasn't anything like that.

The best way he had to describe it was this: when Peter was fourteen, before he'd gotten his powers, he'd had his wisdom teeth out. They'd knocked him out for it, and he remembered very clearly having the mask placed over his nose and mouth.

"Take a few deep breaths and count back from one hundred," a woman had told him. So he'd done just that.

One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. Ninety-six. Ninety…ninety-five…ninety…

And just like that, he was out like a light.

Until he wasn't.

When he'd opened his eyes, he'd been confused. Ninety-four, he'd tried to start, but the nurse had smiled at him and said that he'd already had the surgery. But…it felt like no time had passed. It felt like he'd closed his eyes a second ago, and when he'd opened them it had been two hours in the future. Like time travel. Like reaching into the void, and coming out on the other side.

That was what it felt like to come out of a coma.

He'd lost time. When his senses started to return, trickling in one by one, he thought he was still lying on the floor of the compound. He thought Tony was still holding him, still waiting for him to die. He thought he was on his way out.

So he waited. He waited for death.

But as time passed and his senses didn't fade out, he began to grow confused. His hearing was sharpening, not fading out. The air carried him the crisp scent of disinfectant. He could feel something warm and soft beneath his fingertips.

Then there was this weird sensation, an itching beneath his eyelids, and he opened his eyes.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that he wasn't in the compound. What he perceived as the ground was too soft, and the glass walls of the chamber weren't around him. No…he was somewhere else. And he was alive.

Unless he was dead, and this was the afterlife.

Peter was so busy considering the idea of being dead that he almost didn't realize it when a shadow was cast over his vision.

"Tony."

The voice was thin, wavering in and out. He blinked hard, staring up at the featureless shadow. He was confused. His head hurt and his body ached and breathing was way more painful than it should have been, and he didn't even know where he was or what was going on.

"Tony," the voice said again. "Wake up. Wake up!"

Peter blinked again. He wasn't Tony. Why was the shadow looking at him and telling Tony to get up? Was—was Tony here? Was he alive? Was he okay? Was everyone okay?

Why wasn't he dead?

"His eyes are open, Stark, and you are sleeping! Unbelievable!"

His head spun. Where was he? What was that voice?

The shadow began to sharpen, bit by bit. "Peter, can you hear me? Oh, good—Stark, your child is awake!"

"What?"

He knew that voice. He knew it. He tried and failed to raise an arm.

Then the shadow above him shifted, and there appeared one that he recognized. "He's awake? He's—Peter, can you hear me? Give me sign here, kid!"

Peter struggled to focus on the shadow, who he was almost completely certain was Tony Stark. But there was this weight dragging at his eyelids, trying to pull him back under, and no matter how hard he fought he wasn't able to escape it.

"Peter!"

His eyes slipped closed, and he slept.

The next time Peter awoke, things were a little more coherent.

Everything felt sharper when he opened his eyes. The world was less of a blur of color and motion and sound and smell, and more of a complete picture. He still didn't quite know where he was, but he understood enough to recognize the beeping as a heart monitor. He was in some kind of hospital.

I'm supposed to be dead. Peter rolled his eyes to one side, finding the heart monitor, and watched it for a moment just to make sure it was real. I…I said goodbye to Mr. Stark. I wasn't supposed to live. How did they save me?

Which brought up a more frightening question—was Venom still with him?

Peter tensed, waiting for that familiar swell of sickness beneath his skin. But…there was nothing.

Venom was gone.

He would have laughed if everything hadn't been so painful. But as things were, he could only smile weakly and stare at the ceiling.

How is this even possible? I know he shredded my insides…who on earth could have brought me back from that?

He was so engrossed in puzzling out his survival that he jumped when the previously unseen person next to his bed raised their head and finally realized he was awake.

"Oh—hey, kid, you're back!"

He was confused for a moment, holes in his memory making everything difficult to understand. But of course he knew who this was. It was Tony, still sitting at his bedside, just like the first time he'd awoken.

"Are you gonna stay with us now, kid? You ducked out pretty fast last time."

I'm okay, Peter tried to say, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. He frowned.

"Your throat is probably a little sore," Tony explained, seeing his confusion. "The doctors just decided to remove the feeding tube a day ago, before you awoke the first time. Here, drink this."

Peter managed to twitch his fingers a little, but couldn't quite manage to grab the cup when Tony offered it. So instead Tony just reached for a straw and held it to Peter's lips, helping him take a few gulps before pulling the cup away.

"Not too much or you'll throw up," he said, like Peter didn't already know that. "So…how are you feeling?"

Peter cringed. Not that great, he wanted to say.

"Right, right…it'll probably take a while for you to be able to speak or move. You've been out for three weeks, kid."

Three weeks? His eyes went wide. It didn't feel like it had been more than a few hours since he'd gone down.

Tony seemed to understand his shock. "A lot's happened," he said. "I'll have to get the doctors in here in a minute so they can make sure there's nothing wrong with your brain. Think you can stay awake until then?"

"W-wh…wh…?" But that was as far as he got. What happened?

Tony just shook his head. "I'll explain everything later, after we know you're running okay. Don't want to set you off."

Set me off? What is that supposed to mean?

There were footsteps in the doorway, then, and Peter blinked as a group of doctors swarmed into the room. Had Tony called them? Whether he had or not, he was quickly swallowed up by the doctors as they approached and started poking and prodding at him.

"He looks well," said a girl that stood out from the others. She wasn't wearing the same outfit as the rest of the medical team, and she went right to Tony and stood beside him. "They will have to perform tests, of course, but I do not believe his brain will suffer any long term effects."

"What about his body?" Tony asked in a low tone, probably meant to stop Peter from hearing. It didn't work. "What are your scans telling you about his internal organs?"

Peter didn't hear the answer, as one of the machines made this high-pitched sound that made his skin crawl. He tugged a bit at his restraints in an attempt to get away from it.

"Shut it off!" someone snapped. "You saw the reports, you know what high-pitched sounds do to the specimen!"

The sound switched off, and Peter gasped as the pain receded. He was confused. Why had the sound made him hurt so badly? He tried to sit up, confused and in pain, and quickly there were a dozen hands on him, holding him down despite his strength.

"Stark," said a feminine voice, "come here and comfort the boy. He's in pain, and will hurt himself further if he feels unsafe."

Then the hands vanished, all except for one pair pressing at either side of his face, and Tony was leaning over him as the medical technicians worked. He wasn't sure what they were doing, messing with needles and wires that pinched his skin, but it hurt.

"Hey," Tony said, holding him steady. "You're okay, kid, we're trying to help you. Take deep breaths."

Peter didn't remember all of what had happened before he'd passed out on the floor of the compound. But he did remember this. He remembered Tony kneeling beside him, holding him, whispering words of comfort as he took what he believed to be his final breaths. He remembered this…scenario.

The last time Tony had looked at him like that, he'd nearly died.

The beeping of the heart monitor sped until it was nearly a drone.

"No, no—Pete, come on, I need you to breathe!"

But he couldn't, how could he breathe when he was lying back on the ground, a moment from death, listening to Tony beg him to stay alive? His fingers twisted in the sheets, and he gasped.

Then there was a hand around his wrist, undoing the restraints and tugging until his fingertips met with bare flesh. There was a steady beat beneath the skin there, tapping out a familiar rhythm, hypnotic and grounding. Tony's heartbeat. Peter's fingers were pressed to his neck, right where the pulse was the strongest.

"There you go," Tony soothed, "focus on my heartbeat. You've got it, kid. Bring yourself back."

Peter's enhanced senses amplified the steady beat, sent it thrumming through the rest of his body. And though panic was still buzzing beneath his skin, trying to tell him that he was still dying in the de-oxygenation chamber, the soundness of the rhythm gave him something to hold onto. He wasn't dying. He wasn't in the compound. He was…well, he was wherever he was, and there were people looking out for him, and he was okay.

The beeping began to slow. Not quite to normal levels, because Peter's heart always worked a little faster than most, but it was at least slow enough to stop the medical team from freaking out.

"Good, good! Now keep breathing, kid, they're almost done and then you can relax."

So Peter closed his eyes and focused on Tony's heartbeat, focused on the way his chest moved up and down with every breath, and waited.

Finally it was over.

Everyone left the room except Tony. As they left, that same girl from before told Tony something about consulting with the doctors, which made Peter's stomach flip. He wasn't sure if there was still something wrong with him, and he wanted to know now.

Tony let out a huge breath as soon as the girl left the room. "Well that was hectic. You feeling any better now?"

Peter just shook his head a little, stunned. His hand finally fell away from Tony's. "I-I…" He coughed.

Tony patted him on the shoulder. "Easy, kid. You've been through hell; you can take a breather."

He let himself slump back against the pillows. Now that the chaos was over, the pain and the exhaustion was really starting to set in. "Am I-I…allowed…to k-know…?"

"Soon, Peter. You'll know everything soon. If you're up to it, do you want to tell me what you remember?"

He winced. His throat felt like sandpaper. "Venom," he managed, and the name tasted like poison on his tongue. "G-gone…?"

"Gone," Tony confirmed. "Or at least, we're pretty sure he is."

Peter's chest grew tight. They weren't sure? They didn't know Venom was really gone?

"You tried pretty hard to go out in a blaze of glory," Tony joked, shooting for lighthearted and missing by a mile. "You almost succeeded."

Oh.

Tony looked down. "It…it was real close, Pete. Your heart stopped once on the plane and twice in the compound. The fact that you're still breathing is a miracle."

I died three times? Peter stared, eyes wide. He didn't know how to react.

"Venom, he…he shredded you. He was so thoroughly integrated that his removal caused irreparable damage to several of your vital organs."

"T-thought…I wasn't…allowed t-to…k-know?"

"Well Shuri is taking her sweet time getting back in here, and I'm not a patient man."

Peter laughed, though it was a bit shaky. "H-hey…where…?"

"We're in Wakanda," Tony said, catching on immediately. "Bruce had you flown here once he figured out you would die otherwise. Hell, you came pretty damn close as it was. A team of scientists had already been working on a cure for a few days, and they developed something that…" He trailed off. "Well, maybe I'll save that for after we know if it really worked."

Peter opened his mouth, about to attempt another question, when the doors opened and the girl stepped back inside.

"It's all clear," she said, and Tony practically melted with relief. "Our scans aren't showing any malignant activity within the infected areas. The contagion isn't attempting to break down his cells any further, or replace tissue that hasn't already been damaged, so I think it's safe to say we're in the clear. For now, that is. We still have no idea how this will affect him in the long term."

"So he's going to be okay?" Tony asked sharply. "What about his brain?"

"There will be no permanent damage. It's a small miracle, counting the number of times his heart stopped, but someone seems to be looking out for him."

Peter got the impression that he should be relieved, but he was mostly just confused. What was all that stuff about the contagion? They were acting like he was still infected, but he couldn't sense Venom anywhere in his head.

That was when Tony seemed to remember that Peter had no idea what had happened to him. "Oh, geez—right. Peter, this is Shuri. Shuri, Peter."

The girl—Shuri, apparently—smiled at him. "It is good to see you awake, my friend. Much has happened that we must discuss."

Well that didn't sound good.

Shuri looked to Tony. "Would you like to explain, or should I?"

Tony cringed. "I…I think maybe you should take this one. You're the one that figured it all out, after all."

"Very well." Shuri turned to Peter and said, "I'd tell you to sit down, but it looks like you have that handled. Now, let me explain."

She spoke, and Peter listened.

And then, promptly, he passed out.

Peter sat awake for many nights after that. He knew that he needed to sleep—he was still recovering, and doing much of anything was still incredibly difficult—but he just couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Every time he did, he feared that he would slip and Venom would come back.

Because Venom was a part of him now. He would be a part of him forever.

Shuri had gone to great lengths to convince him that Venom was gone, and that what was inside him was basically a mindless gel holding his body together. But he wasn't so sure. He hadn't felt even a scrap of the parasite's presence since awakening, but who was to say that Venom wasn't just biding his time?

So he couldn't sleep. If he slept, Venom might take control.

Tony had been spending the days with him, filling the silence with idle chatter as Peter slowly regained his ability to speak and move. The restraints had been removed (which Peter had tried to protest, but no one seemed to understand what he was asking when he flailed his arms and jabbed a finger at the cuffs), so he was free to shift around as much as he wanted. He was also free to worry that if Venom took over, there would be nothing to stop him from getting up and slaughtering Tony.

Peter made it three nights like this before Tony was sent to intervene.

"Kid, you have to sleep or I'm going to have the doctors sedate you."

"What if Venom takes over?" His voice was still raspy, but he was getting better. He could speak in entire sentences now.

Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose. "He's gone, Peter. I promise you that if Venom was still around, we would be able to tell. You would be able to tell, even if the equipment couldn't."

"But what if—?"

"You could tell, couldn't you? Even before you realized what Venom was, you could tell that something was wrong. Are you feeling anything like that now?"

Peter paused. "No."

"Then he's not there."

"But…" He trailed off, not quite sure how to tell Tony that his every waking moment was consumed with worry. "What if he's there and I can't tell this time? This thing, it's…it's in me, Mr. Stark." He put a hand over his stomach, as if he might be able to feel the synthetic material within. But of course he couldn't. It was indistinguishable from his own body, at least on a sensory level. "It's going to be there forever and there's nothing I can do about it."

"It might not be there forever," Tony attempted. "The scientists here are still working on your case, and one day they might be able to extract the contagion and replace it with organic tissue."

"Yeah, but what happens until then? This stuff is just going to be sitting in there like a bomb that could go off at any moment. What if it happens on a mission and I hurt someone again? What if I hurt you?"

"Don't you trust me?" Tony asked. "I'm telling you that you're fine. Venom is gone. I promise."

"You can't know."

"Kid—"

"And all of this is my fault, too!"

Tony fell silent.

"It's my fault," Peter repeated. "I didn't listen to you on that mission, and then I didn't tell you when I started to get sick, and then I just let Venom kick me out of my own body and use me to hurt you guys! If I'd been stronger, then maybe…"

"Peter, no." Tony looked at him, deathly serious. "Never blame yourself for this. Maybe you should have been more careful on that mission, and you definitely should have told someone when you started to feel sick, but the only person you should blame is whoever engineered Venom in the first place."

"HYDRA," Peter said.

"HYDRA," Tony agreed. "They're the ones that set that trap. And even if you had told us when you started to feel sick—which you should have—I'm not sure what we could have done. Bruce never even came close to finding a cure, and it was all the Wakandan scientists could do to come up with the fix that saved you. Who's to say that an extra day would have made much of a difference?"

Peter knew that Tony was just trying to comfort him, that he was furious that he hadn't told him earlier that he was feeling unwell. But still, he was willing to accept the empty comfort.

"Hey," Tony said. "We're going to find who did this, and we're going to take them out."

"I thought we did that already, with Roland being dead."

"Well, we kind of did that. We did take out the guy Venom called his father, but there are definitely still a few HYDRA cockroaches hiding out in Germany. Plus…" Tony hesitated.

"What? What is it?"

Tony looked anywhere but at him. "Barnes is missing."

"Missing?" Peter remembered abruptly their encounter in the HYDRA base. "He was with HYDRA. I saw him. I think he was like, undercover or something?"

"He's the one that told us where you were."

Peter blinked. He hadn't known that.

"He was undercover, trying to figure out as much as he could about the remaining bases. Not that we authorized that, by the way, but he doesn't exactly listen to us."

"So why do you think he's missing?" Peter asked. "He could have just dropped off the map again. You know, undercover?"

"That's what I said, but you know how Cap is. He thinks that if Barnes was willing to warn us about you, he would have warned us about the impending attack on the Avengers compound, too. Since he didn't, the theory is that something's happened to him."

Oh boy. He really, really hoped that he hadn't blown Bucky's cover somehow.

Tony shook his head. "Just don't worry about it, kid. There'll be a mission, I'm sure, but you're not going."

Earlier, he might have argued. But now he just wanted to take some time off and rest.

Tony leaned forward and something shifted. Like the weight of the air, bearing down upon them a little harder. "Look," he said, "I just—I need to say something to you."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. "Um, yeah. Go ahead."

Tony took a step further, and Peter moved his legs so he could sit on the bed next to him. The whole action was reminiscent of that first time they'd spoken in Queens, when Tony had burst in and pretended that he was there to award him an internship, and the comparison made Peter's heart wash with a mix of affection and sorrow. Nostalgia, he thought. That was the right word for it.

"This whole thing has been one huge mess," Tony started, somewhat stiffly. "I don't even want to imagine what you must have gone through, knowing what was happening but being unable to regain control."

He didn't want to imagine it either. He wanted to remember it even less.

"But you know what? You fought, Peter. I know you were in a lot of pain, and you could have just let go, but you didn't. You hung on for as long as you could, and it's something that most people couldn't have done. I'm not even sure of some of the other members of the team could have done what you did, walking yourself into that chamber knowing you wouldn't walk out."

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably. He had no idea where Tony was going with this, and it was making him nervous. He would deserve it if he snapped at him, he knew that—so why did it sound like he was being praised? He didn't deserve it. Especially not now, when he was already having issues sleeping because of the guilt and the fear. It was his fault, no matter how much Tony tried to convince him otherwise. It was all his fault.

Tony sighed. "I guess my point is that you were really strong, kid. Even stronger than I thought you could be, and I already thought you could be pretty damn strong. And…I know that right now you're afraid. But you shouldn't be, okay? Because the way I see it, you were strong enough to beat Venom the first time and you're strong enough to beat him now."

He winced. "Mr. Stark…"

"No interrupting while I'm trying to comfort you!" Tony paused, then, like he was putting his next words together carefully. "Let me be clear, Pete—there is literally zero indicator that Venom is still in there somewhere. But even if he was, I know you're more than enough to take him down. Hell, do you realize what you did? You were a second away from death and you still managed to beat that thing down and do what had to be done. You didn't let him hurt us."

Something in Peter's chest wound even tighter, and his shoulders hitched a little. "But I did hurt you. I—I stabbed you, Mr. Stark. I hurt a lot of people, and not just members of the team!

"Kid, surely you understand that it wasn't your fault. It wasn't you that did those things, it was Venom—and didn't I just say that we should be blaming HYDRA for all of it?"

"But—if I hadn't been so weak—

"I'm sorry, did you not hear what I just said? I said that you were strong. Who else could have regained control after days of fighting and walked Venom right the hell into that chamber? Who else would have had the will?"

"I only managed that because you helped me," he said, because it was true. If Tony hadn't said those things to him, he would never have been able to fight his way out and everyone would be dead now. "I…I still haven't even thanked you."

Tony didn't look happy at the idea of being thanked, though. The instant he heard those words, he frowned and looked away. "You can't thank me because I was the reason you were infected in the first place. On that mission, if I had—"

"No way!" Peter interrupted. "If I don't get to blame myself, then you don't get to blame yourself either! What was it you just said? That we should be blaming HYDRA? That means not holding you accountable!"

Tony paused for a moment, then relaxed. "Yeah," he said, "okay." And he was just barely smiling, but it was there. "Look, how about we just take this one day at a time? Try to get through tonight, then think about tomorrow when it gets here. If anything strange happens with Venom, or if you start feeling like it's your fault, or if anything is even remotely wrong at all, you can just let someone know and we'll figure it out together. All of us will. The whole team."

"And—and if you start feeling like it's your fault, you have to tell someone too!"

Tony smiled at him and reached out to ruffle a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Sure thing, kid."

And Peter was content. Because he was terrified, having a part of Venom wrapped up around his insides, but now he felt like things were just a little bit brighter.

Tony withdrew his hand and said, "You've been through hell, and you pulled yourself out in one piece. Let's try to keep it that way. And…Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"…All of this was just a really roundabout way of saying that I'm proud of you."

Peter melted a little, a smile finding its way onto his face. He felt…happy, almost. Content, despite the weight of the circumstances. "I know, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, well—I'm just making sure you know. Think you can try to stay safe to spare me the mushy stuff from here on out? It's really taking a toll on my dignity. Also, I'm not that good at it."

"I'll do my best," Peter said softly. Even though I won't be able to control what kind of an impact this thing will have on me now that it's there for good.

Tony nodded. "Good. The team would miss you if anything happened."

You would miss me, Peter thought, but he didn't say it.

"So, think you're up to sleeping now? The doctors are ready to give you a clean bill of health if you get some rest, so we can hop on over to the compound tomorrow if you like."

That got his attention. "Really? I could see the others?"

"Well they're about ready to beat down the door to see if you're really okay, so I'd say yes. They'll be waiting."

"Then yes!" Peter said excitedly. "I'll sleep, just let me get out of here and go home!"

It seemed to satisfy Tony, who got up and began to retreat. "You'd better actually sleep!" he warned. "I'll be able to tell if you're exhausted tomorrow."

"Don't worry, I'll do my best. Venom, he's…" Peter hesitated, looking down at his hands. "He's gone. Or at least, the dangerous parts aren't here anymore. I knew that already, I just—well—I wasn't ready to accept it."

Tony's expression softened. "I'll see you in the morning, kid. Get some rest."

Then the man left, and Peter was left lying in bed and staring at an empty doorway.

His eyes returned to his hands. He rubbed his fingertips together, always trying to figure out if something felt different. Logically he knew that Tony was right—if Venom were still here, he would have felt it by now. But the knowledge that a part of the parasite was still in him, was lodged in his insides forever…

Peter curled his fingers into fists. They have no idea how this is going to work long term. But I'm alive now, and I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

Tony had called him strong. He wasn't going to prove him wrong by letting this kill him.

Peter closed his eyes and slept for the first time in days.

"Guys, they're back!"

Peter's hearing picked up Clint's excited voice immediately as the doors to the jet opened and he stepped out, Tony only a moment behind. A moment later he had eyes on the archer, jogging across the tarmac to greet them. Another scan of the area found the other Avengers appearing one by one, having been informed that the missing members of the team were returning home that day.

"Hey," Peter started as they drew close, but he was cut off as Natasha reached him and drew him into a hug that made his entire body ache. Wanda hugged him too, and Clint gave him this one-armed squeeze like he wasn't quite willing to commit to a real hug. Steve ruffled his hair and smiled at him. Bruce (a surprising addition, seeing as he was usually down in the lab or not there at all) told him that the team was happy to have him back. Vision dipped his head in greeting. Even Sam seemed glad to see him, patting him on the shoulder and saying something about how it had been too long since he'd been at the compound.

"Easy, guys!" Tony called after a few minutes of rapid-fire questions about how Peter was doing and whether or not he felt funny and if he was going to keep wanting to go on missions after the last one had gone so, so wrong. "He just got back on his feet this morning, give him some space!"

But Peter didn't mind. The Avengers were looking at him like he was loved, like he was appreciated and needed and even missed when he wasn't there, and maybe for the first time ever he felt truly complete.

He felt like he was part of a team.

"I'm okay," he assured them when they kept trying to ask. "Still a little shaky, but I'm here and that's what matters."

"You don't feel strange?" Natasha pressed. "If you do, it's okay. It'll take some time to get used to everything, I'm sure."

Peter knew what she was referring to. But when he looked inside himself, he couldn't tell his own body apart from what remained of Venom's. They were one and the same now, in a way. There was just him. Just them.

"Peter?"

He looked up at them. Then he smiled and said, "You know what? I just feel like myself." And it was true.

Everyone seemed to relax as one. "Good," Natasha said. "We've missed you in training, you know! Even if you don't want to jump back in yet, we could use the company."

"It has been quite dull," Wanda agreed. "Are you up to sparring with us once you're capable?"

Peter could practically sense Tony tensing behind him, ready to refuse for him. But before the man could even open his mouth Peter said, "Of course, guys. But, uh, can I have a few days off first? I kind of want to sleep for another week."

Natasha smiled, understanding. "Okay. It's good to have you back, Peter."

And just like that, everything was as it should be.

Peter knew that not everything was resolved. He still had no idea what would happen to him in the future, for one. For another, half of the Avengers compound was still covered in blood and dust and shrapnel. And most importantly of all, Steve had these dark circles beneath his eyes like he'd been up all night for many nights in a row trying to find Bucky without success. So no, not everything was okay.

But they were getting there.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, kid. Let's get you inside."