The faint ache from Harry's fist is dwarfed completely by the pain infesting the rest of his body. It moves through him like waves, pulsing from his head down to his toes where they curl in the sand. It isn't as bad as the first time the Goblin threw him around, but there's something else this time. Something's off, inside his body, that's making it harder to breathe the longer they stand there. Fury is talking, but Peter just noticed, so he tunes in.

"…Have a SHIELD base on land, obviously. It's discreet…"

Peter blinks slowly. When his eyes slide back open – far slower than he would like – his vision begins to swim. Spikes of pain shoot through his eyes and bounce around his skull and it's making his hearing fuzzier. The area all around Peter's nape is throbbing viciously, pounding like a gong alongside his suddenly overwhelming heartbeat. Audio floats through his ear – quiet and close like someone's whispering to him. It sounds like Danny is trying to talk to him.

When Peter turns his head a couple degrees it's enough to make his legs shift from the dizziness that ripples through him. Danny's eyebrows are probably furrowed behind his mask; the tone of his voice suddenly gets much too stressed. He's stopped talking though, and he looks like he's waiting for Peter to speak. Peter blinks again, just as slowly as before. His tongue unsticks itself from the roof of his mouth.

"…Huh?"

Peter immediately regrets even opening his mouth. His throat constricts, dry and tight, and Peter has to cough forcefully to get any air in. The mask is too stuffy, it covers up his mouth too much, and he can't really breathe anymore, which he allows himself to panic about. Peter shifts again to try and rest his hands on his knees in an attempt to breathe but as soon as he puts pressure on his left wrist, his legs give out. Pain too sharp and too deep to be just bruising envelopes his wrist, but instead of providing a focus, it only amplifies the rest of his injuries.

His lungs are still not completely obeying him but some oxygen gets through, so Peter takes the opportunity to suck in as much air as possible. With air comes the awareness that he's on the ground and that someone rolled his mask up onto his nose. The world falls back into place around him.

"That's it, just breathe," says a familiar voice. It's Eric, and behind him is Ally and Tyler. All three are soaked through their white coats, dripping water everywhere, but their presence instantly calms him. Peter can trust these people with his life. They've saved him before, and he has no doubt that they'll keep him alive after he passes out. "Stay with me, Spidey."

Peter would obey – really, he would – but his head lolls against his will. He's just too tired to keep his eyes on the doctor; instead, they rolled aimlessly in his head, looking up at the sky instead. It's been three days since Peter slept more than a couple hours at a time. And Danny's lap is comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

"We need to get to the base," Eric says. It's the last thing that any of them, Nick Fury included, can understand. Turning to the nurses, the three of them have a rapid-fire conversation consisting only of medical terms and phrases that overall don't sound too good.

"SHIELD agents are coming to transport us. They'll be here soon." Fury's gaze rakes over the huddle of soaked and tired teenagers, making eye contact with all of them. "You did well here today. Rest up, there won't be any missions for a while. We need to regroup."

Slowly, they nod. Ava, Sam, Danny, and Luke take that as the signal to relax. The situation isn't ideal, to say the least, and with their home gone, they can't actually relax. There's sand all over their suits and the breeze that's picking up chills them to the bone. But the four of them gather around Peter, attracted to each other and their downed teammate like magnets, an old instinct telling them to keep him safe. Even though he's perfectly fine in Eric, Ally, and Tyler's care, Peter is theirs.

Luke kneels first, the excitement of the day not helping his broken arm heal any faster, and sits back slowly. His shoulder brushes Danny's – the other boy sees the offer and accepts it gratefully, leaning against Luke without shifting Peter. After a beat, Sam crouches down, too, wavering just slightly on the balls of his feet. With one more sweep of the area, Ava carefully folds her legs under her, as graceful as ever.

A second passes before Ava nudges Sam. He tilts and lands without a sound, cushioned by the sand. The entire exchange means more than any words can communicate: Relax, he'll be okay, you look tense, are you okay? Sam answers when he lets his head rest on her shoulder, I'm fine, just tired.

This sort of idiosyncrasy can be seen among teams as close as this, though it never ceases to impress any onlookers to see five kids be so close and work the way that they do. None of them are old enough to drink or smoke, they haven't even graduated high school, and yet the complex exchanges show interpersonal relationships beyond their years. It must be something special about those five that allows the dynamic of the team to have formed and developed so strongly. Maybe it's the fact that all of them had the formative years of their teenage life ripped away and turned into something too heavy to hold alone. Being in an environment where the five of them have to count on each other through thick and thin, through tests and bullies and life-or-death situations molded them into more than just a team. Either way, it shows in everything they do. When Eric finally stands, the four of them that are still awake stir, eyes following the man. Only the knowledge that he knows Peter's identity and hasn't done anything with the knowledge allows them to let their hackles down.

A dark, discreet vehicle pulls up where the shore meets the asphalt of the city. It's surrounded by three other vans, all dark and sleek, and a single agent steps out. He nods to Fury. The agents on the beach start to trudge toward the transport, glad to be out of the cold.

Luke clambers to his feet, offering a hand to Ava and Sam. Danny blinks, his hand just barely touching Peter's forehead. He looks up to Luke, who bends down again without question. With one arm immobile in a sling, he can't just scoop up Peter. Sam helps maneuver Peter as carefully as possible into the crook of Luke's arm. The position proves to be a benefit – the rasping wheeze that started up from Peter eases up a bit.

Ava helps Danny stand. With arms brushing and heads drooping, the team makes its way to the van. There are two rows of seats facing each other, four on each side of the van. Inside, Eric has already opened the medical kit. He's kneeling beside some seats; wordlessly, he gestures to them. Luke hesitates to let Peter down. It would be easier to protect him if he's closer to Luke, but he needs to be looked over by a professional. Eyes sharp, Luke slowly sets him down onto the seats, stepping away to give Ally and Tyler space do their job.

As soon as the four teens sit down, the nurses move in, quietly talking to each other and Eric. "You hear that, too, right?" Ally's head was tilted to listen to Peter's breathing. She makes a grabbing motion and a stethoscope is placed in her hand not moments later.

"The wheeze? Yeah, he might have inhaled some water, so—,"

"—We have to look out for lung infections, yes, but his neck feels really tender…"

Eric fishes something else out of the kit. "He's probably been badly bruised, but the biggest concern right now is the concussion he most likely sustained if he was hit hard enough to be knocked out." The two nurses nod in tandem. It seems the three of them are a team of their own, working in such close quarters without stumbling over each other's words, just communicating with rapid-fire exchanges.

Tyler hisses in sympathy. "I think his left wrist is fractured, but it seems stable. The area is starting to swell, so we should get some ice packs for that and—,"

"—And his bruises, I'm on it, but could you try to turn him in case—,"

Eric tosses three ice packs to Ally. "Careful with what you say, you two, we're not alone here." He turns to the teens now, who had immediately tensed at his words. "I don't want to scare you guys. Peter isn't in critical condition, but he's not out of the woods yet. Would you rather I explain?"

Danny seems mesmerized by the efficient work, and to be honest, he's nodding off against Luke's shoulder. The other three are (mostly) awake, and nod.

"I'd like to know what's happening." Ava prompts.

"One, two…" Ally and Tyler swiftly turn Peter onto his side so that he faces away from the team. As soon as they do, the bruises they were talking about are revealed. The skin of his neck and the surrounding area looks like a watercolor painting. Red billows out from the center, and blue tinges the outer edges.

Luke and Sam cringe at the sight. Ava's eyes tighten; Danny remains asleep.

"It's better to keep him on his side so he can breathe easier. Peter might have inhaled some water back in the Helicarrier, so we have to look out for things like pneumonia. Plus, it takes some of the strain off of his neck." As Eric talks, he bundles one of the many blankets the medical kit has stuffed into it under Peter's head. Then, he stands and unfurls another grey blanket over Peter's legs.

It seems that the three of them have done as much as they can for now. Tyler sits against the seats, making sure the two ice packs resting on Peter's nape don't slip with the van's movement. Ally does the same for his left wrist.

Eric hands more blankets to Ava and Luke, who at this point are the only ones still awake. The two of them spread blankets over Danny and Sam and settle in for the ride.

Peter slams against the wall of the Helicarrier. Oddly enough, it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. What hurts more is the blood-curdling scream coming from Harry. Peter looks around frantically, eyes darting around the water to try and find his friend, but all he sees is the hulking figure of Venom. It's blurry and nearly too dark to see but the image still strikes terror into Peter.

Something is deeply wrong. Freezing water continues to flood Peter's mouth, filling it with the taste of blood. The currents buffet him – but they work in his favor, and he's now upright, making it easier to breathe. But looking Harry in the eyes, seeing his face melting into the inky darkness of Venom makes the air stick in his throat.

"No…no, please…Harry…

"…Harry, no," Peter's eyes jerk open. His surroundings snap into place, jarring him out of the nightmare. He's in a dimly lit room, not floating dead in the Helicarrier. But that did happen. Harry is Venom. Norman is Green Goblin. These things are true – but he's not dead. Peter's sitting against someone solid and coughing so hard it feels like his lungs are cracking. Tendrils of pain grip his chest and wrap around his neck and wrist. Peter gasps desperately, feeling like a fish out of water, the muscles in his neck working to get air into his trembling body. The sheets covering his legs provide something to ground him as he curls his fingers so tightly the fabric warps.

The seconds tick by. Peter is lightheaded and wishing he was asleep by the time he drags in his first good breath. He thinks the only reason he hasn't actually passed out is because of the oxygen sitting snugly on his face. Peter melts against whoever's holding him up and lets himself be guided back onto the mountain of pillows he must have been resting on before he woke up.

"You're okay, Peter, you're okay…are you with us now?" Luke's voice washes over him. Knowing at least one teammate is near gives him enough motivation to open his eyes.

Peter's eyes slide open. He's grateful that the lights in the room aren't at full power, or else the headache he woke up with would only get worse. Waking up is worth it, he realizes, when he's greeted by not just Luke but the rest of the team, too. Danny sits opposite Luke while Ava lounges on the third and last chair, leaving Sam to lean against the wall. A cup of coffee rests in his hand, but the oxygen mask blocks out the smell.

"Hey, guys," Peter's voice breaks on the second word.

Ava, Danny, Luke, and Sam are all in their civvies. They all look like they could use a good cup of coffee what with the size of the bags under their eyes. But lying in a bed in what must be some SHIELD base, Peter can guess that he doesn't look too fresh himself.

Danny's voice is soft when he asks, "How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling? Peter's cheeks and eyes are uncomfortably hot. He must have a fever, then, which is why he's trembling so much even under the four grey blankets that pool at his waist. There's a brace on his left wrist—

Peter yells into his comm., telling White Tiger to stand down, to stay away from the Helicarrier and Green Goblin. Venom had made an appearance. Water is filling up the corridor they're in, soaking his suit. The Goblin slams down onto Peter's wrist, shattering the comm. and definitely cracking something inside his arm. The water level is almost choking him now—

"Peter?"

Sucking in a sharp breath to gather himself, Peter blinks and says, "Okay. Tired." After a beat, the combined heat of their glares forced another few of words out. "Crummy, I guess. How're y' doin'?" Having been awake for barely 5 minutes, Peter finds himself reluctant to let the painkillers lull him back to sleep. He wants to stay awake if only to keep tabs on his team for a bit. He misses them after three days of juggling school, patrol, and keeping Harry alive all on his own. Some apologies are to be made.

Ava's eyebrow arches dangerously. But Peter can see the concern flashing in her eyes, unabashed in the quiet companionship and privacy of the room. "You have pneumonia, just in case you were wondering. Your wrist will be fine."

"Plus a concussion," Sam continues.

"And a whole lot of bruises." Luke finishes, arms crossed. "By the way – don't fucking do that again, alright? Scared the hell out of…Sam," Sam yelped at that, "And me. Everyone, basically."

Peter hums quietly, though it crackles and stings his throat. His eyelids are getting heavier, sliding down halfway, and the fuzziness in his head making it easy to doze off. The discomfort in his throat, his wrist, and the back of his neck are becoming muffled. The pillows behind him are cushioning him nicely.

"Sorry." It's whispered and the oxygen mask doesn't make it any clearer, but the atmosphere goes from tense to them. Ava's face softens and Sam's shoulders melt. It's the same safe cocoon they find themselves in when it's just the five of them. Danny can nap, relaxed in the presence of his closest friends. But they're more than that – it's obvious the way Luke can lean back in his chair, tip his head back, and start snoring softly in the blink of an eye. It's the way Sam nudges Ava with his hip, and she scoots over immediately, allowing him to wedge himself into the chair with her, limbs fitting into the limited space with practiced ease. If anyone else were in the room, Danny would never stretch his long legs over Ava and Sam's laps, pillowing his head on his arms right by Peter's hip. The five of them call it a team – others might call it a pack. It doesn't matter to them; the relationship is simple in their eyes. It developed over the time they've shared and will continue to grow stronger as they go. Every moment they spend surrounding their Peter while he recovers only serves to push them closer to each other.