Resolution

It was two o’clock in the morning, and Peter needed desperately to leave.

He was sure he’d recovered enough, even if Dr. Cho disagreed. Yes, the warmed IV fluids weren’t making nearly the difference in temperature that even he’d hoped for, and maybe he was still feeling the cold down to his bones. And, yeah, his muscles were still cramped and sore from the intense shivering he’d suffered through before he couldn’t shiver anymore, but he knew he could recover just as easily in his bed back at home with his Aunt May. She was a nurse after all, and he’d be fine anyways.

Really.

He always was.

“Peter?” An exhausted Mr. Stark interrupted his thoughts. “Are you doing okay over there?” Mr. Stark asked for the third time from his seat between his and Ms. Potts’ beds. “I’m not used to you being so quiet and it’s kind of freaking me out.” He tried to tease, but it fell flat.

Peter blinked slow as he processed the words and formulated an appropriate reply. All he could think to say was, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark cringed. “Please stop with the apologies, kiddo,” he practically begged. “I don’t know how many times I keep telling you. You have nothing to be sorry for, so please? For me?”

And Peter knew that he would do anything for Mr. Stark. He loved the man like a father—there, he’d admitted to himself finally, which was why this had hurt the most, and why he needed to find a way out. He nodded in agreement. “Okay, Mr. Stark. I’ll try,” the boy lied and smiled weakly. “And yeah, I’m just tired so...” There. That would hopefully satisfy the man and maybe even Ms. Potts who was looking on from her own bed for at least a little while. Peter closed his eyes, playing up the fib, but there was no way he’d be able to rest. Not when every time he let his guard down, the memories became too much. The confusion and fear on Ms. Potts’ face, her gasping for air, and the look of utter betrayal and hatred on Mr. Stark when he’d realized that Peter had been the cause for all of this.

He heard shifting in the bed beside him.

“Hey, Pep, what are you trying to do. I’ll do it for you, babe. Let me take care of you,” Mr. Stark whispered to his fiancée as he fussed around her.

She laughed softly, “I’m afraid this is something I have to take care of on my own, love, but thank you.”

Peter focussed on the sound of her socked feet hitting the floor, and then a surprised, “Oh.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Mr. Stark replied. “Still a little unsteady, huh?” He teased, but Peter could hear the worry in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ms. Potts replied. “It’s the epipens. They always leave me shaky after...” She groaned as they shuffled toward the bathroom at the other end of the room. “This sucks,” she complained in a very not Ms. Potts-style way. “I’d managed almost fifteen years without an allergic reaction. I try so hard to be careful, Tony,” she sounded so upset.

“I know, sweetheart, but thank God you were in the tower when it happened. I can’t imagine how things would have turned out if Peter had...”

The bathroom door closed, and Peter tuned out the rest reflexively, though he wondered what actually would have happened if Peter had—never brought that damned candy into the tower—never been in their lives in the first place. There were so many options.

Peter opened his eyes to the empty room. His brain took a moment to catch up, and then—

In a flash, blankets had been thrown to the floor and Peter was barely swaying as he carefully pulled the IV out of his hand. He only pressed on the spot a moment, hoped that his healing factor would aid in clotting the small wound in his arm, and then moved cautiously toward the chair in the corner where his still damp clothing had been carelessly tossed onto a chair. He pulled on the uncomfortably stiff jeans , shuddered as he slipped his bare feet into his soggy sneakers and clutched the rest to his still hospital gown-clad chest. He didn’t have time to waste. He scanned the corner quickly to make sure he had everything, then caught sight of his school bag wedged under the seat. He was sure he’d left it in the penthouse when he left so Mr. Stark must have brought it down after everything had settled. Honestly, Peter didn’t care how it had gotten there, he was just grateful to have it as he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the room.

Peter had never been so relieved to see an empty hallway in his life as he rushed to the elevator. The doors slid open as soon as he’d pressed the down button—like a sign from God—or maybe FRIDAY, that he was meant to leave regardless of what Dr. Cho or anyone else thought and so, with absolutely zero hesitation, Peter stepped into the elevator car, pressed the “L” for lobby, and held his breath as the doors slid closed.

The trip down from the med bay seemed faster than usual. Again, Peter suspected that was FRIDAY had a hand in that. The AI saw and knew all within the building, so he wouldn’t have been surprised that she was trying to get the threat that was Peter as far from her creator and loved ones as quickly as possible. And Peter didn’t blame her.

The elevator came to a stop on the main floor and its doors opened to reveal the empty, suddenly overly-large lobby. Only one hundred feet and the night security guard stationed at the front reception desk stood between Peter and the main doors that would spit him back out into the early morning rainstorm still hammering the city. He only needed to move—

Directly past Happy and Captain Rogers who seemed engrossed in a conversation maybe a dozen feet away from the elevator.

Peter stared like a deer in headlights, figuring that the jig was up and that the two men were there to make sure Peter couldn’t try to sneak out—but they’d made no move, caught up in their own little conversation, so maybe it could work?

Peter had to try.

He averted his eyes, trying hard to not look like he was trying to look inconspicuous, as he slid past them but Happy and the Captain were obviously engrossed in whatever they were discussing and the effort went to waste. Not that Peter cared, he just—

“Mr. Hogan, Boss is insisting that you stop Mr. Parker from exiting the tower.” FRIDAY’s voice chimed from the lobby sound system.

Peter froze in place as Happy looked around confused, “What does that mean, ‘stop Mr. Parker?’ Where’s—“ Happy caught sight of him. “Kid?”

Peter cringed, refusing to turn to face the man calling out to him, instead he shook off the shock and picked up the pace.

“Hey, Peter?!” Happy called out again. “C’mon, I’m guessin’ Tony wants to see you.” Happy’s cellphone rang and he fell back to answer.

Peter ignored it all and started to jog.

Captain Rogers followed him instead, “Peter? Where’s the fire?” Was he jogging, too?

Peter needed to go, and he needed to go fast. How could no one understand? The door was in sight, and the security guard was only just standing up from his seat behind the desk. If he just hurried and got there before he—

“Gotcha!” Captain Rogers’ hand clamped down tightly around Peter’s upper arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “Come on, son.” Captain Rogers gave a gentle tug. “Tony needs you back upstairs for something.”

Peter dropped his head in defeat, fighting back tears of frustration. If he reached out, he could almost touch the doors—the need to run grew more desperate and a plan formed, if he could call it that.

“Peter?” Happy approached the pair as he popped his cell phone back into his pocket, not even trying to hide his concern. “Tony says you shouldn’t be out of bed yet, so let’s go.” He gestured over the elevators. “Back to the med bay. They’re waiting for you... and you know how he gets when you’re not a hundred percent, so let’s not be difficult, okay? It’s too early for this.”

Peter finally looked up and stared helplessly between the two, mouth open and trying to find the words to explain why he couldn’t... wouldn’t go back up to see anyone. Finding nothing, he simply yanked his arm out of Captain Rogers’ grip and offered a sincere, “I’m so sorry about this.” With no option for escape, Peter brought back his arm and clenched his fist. “I have no choice.”

“Peter?” Captain Rogers’ questioned just as Peter lunged forward and punched the man solidly in the face.

“CAP!” Happy called out as he caught the man before he crumpled to the floor in shock and pain. Peter stared at the result of his actions as Happy looked back at him, “Peter? What the hell!?”

“I’m so, so sorry,” He gasped as he backed away. “Please don’t come after me.” And with those words, Peter ran the last few feet to the door, slammed through them, and bolted out into the storm.