The boat was bobbing in the water unsteadily, as Peter watched the last of the passengers being rescued. God, what a mess.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, after taking an hour to get back to land, and it was making him feel drained and achy all over. But the guilt hurt far worse than any physical pain he could feel. Okay, maybe not all the physical pain, cause crap his arm really, really hurt.

He could hear the Iron Man suit approach, before he saw it, and didn't turn to look as Tony started talking.

"Previously on Peter screws the pooch, I tell you to stay away from this and instead, you hack your way into a multimillion dollar suit, so you could sneak around behind my back and do the one thing I told you not to do."

He sounded mad, and Peters own voice came out small and shaken. "Is everyone okay?"

"No thanks to you."

Peter frowned at that. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He swung his legs over wall and hopped down, ignoring the way it made his head spin.

"No thanks to me? Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it but you wouldn't listen! None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me! If you even cared you would actually be here."

Peter felt betrayed. Tony had given him the suit, brought him in on his insane fight with half the avengers, gotten him beaten up and terrified, and then dropped him home and ignored him for months. And now he wanted to lecture him about trying to stop bad guys that he had ignored?

The Iron Man suit opened, revealing Tony's hard expression as he stepped out. Peter took a stumbling step backwards, wincing a little at the way his chest throbbed painfully.

"I did listen, kid. Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was crazy for recruiting a fourteen-year-old kid."

There it was again. He couldn't even remember how old he was; just more proof he didn't really care. And it hurt. Or maybe that was his chest.

"I'm fifteen."

Tony's face hardened again, voice raising enough to give Peter a headache, and make him dizzier than before. The teenager blinked, trying to clear his vision.

"No, this is where you zip it, all right? The adult is talking. What if someone had died tonight? Different story, right? Cause that's on you. And if you'd died? I feel like that's on me."

His tone had changed slightly, softening just a little, as if he actually gave a crap.

"I don't need that on my conscience."

Peter lowered his gaze, swallowing thickly as he mumbled out a few words. God, why was it so hard to breathe? And his arm felt like it was made of lead, his fingers wouldn't even twitch.

"I'm sorry, Mr Stark."

Tony kept talking, but Peter couldn't really hear him anymore. His eyes wouldn't focus on anything, and he felt as if he were about to pass out. Something was wrong.

Tony watched the kid blinking heavily, swaying a little, and snapped his fingers in front of Peter's face, trying to gain back his attention.

"Peter, are you listening to me?"

The teenager flinched a little at the snapping, but it was slow and clumsy, and he mumbled the same words as before, small and confused.

"S-sorry Mr St-stark, I'm sorry. Sorry Mr Stark, I'm-"

Tony frowned, concerned, and lifted a hand to the kid's shoulder. "Peter?"

His touch made the kid flinch, eyes scrunching shut and legs giving out as he let out a cry of pain. Tony caught him around the waist as his legs crumpled, holding him up against his chest as Peter groaned.

"Hey, kid, you, all right?"

He didn't answer, and his arm didn't move, hanging limply from his side as if the limb were nothing but dead weight. Peter's other hand was fisted in Tony's shirt and he looked down at the kid as those bright eyes blinked open, glassy and tired.

"Peter, answer me." He was getting worried. Something wasn't right. But Peter didn't say anything, just groaned in pain and sank into Tony's arms, no longer able to hold himself up. The older man carefully lowered the kid to the ground, arms around his back, as Peter's heavy head lay cradled in Tony's hand. His eyes were blinking slow as he panted, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing anything and he didn't respond to Tony's voice anymore.

Tony's heart thumped in his chest. God, why had he yelled at him? Why hadn't he gotten the kid checked out first, or just asked Friday to make sure he was okay? He'd tried to hold an entire ship together, and singlehandedly battled the vulture and his crew, why would he think he'd be fine?

He tried again, breathing growing quicker as Peter's grew more laboured, slow shallow breaths coming strained as Peter's chest heaved with the effort.

"Peter, come on kid. Talk to me, stay awake." His eyes were getting heavier, and Tony knew he wouldn't be awake for much longer. He called out to his suit, voice harsh and panicked.

"Friday, scan him and send the results to the base. Call Bruce."

Her cheerful voice came quickly. "Scan complete. Initiating call."

Tony didn't want to let him go, he didn't want to leave him for a second, in case something happened, but he needed to get him help. He slowly lowered the teenager to the ground, not expecting any response, but that trembling hand tugged against his shirt and Peter blinked up at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak.

"Shh, it's okay, Peter. I'm just going to get my suit on so I can get you some help. Stay with me, I'll be back in just a second."

He felt the sharp stab of guilt as he pulled Peter's fingers from his shirt, wincing at the whimper it elicited, and lowered the kid to the ground. He sprinted to his suit, allowing the metal to envelop him, and quickly running back over.

Friday had called Bruce, as he requested, and he hastily told him the situation.

"Tony, what's-"

"I need you in the med bay, I'm taking Peter there now, there's something wrong with him."

Peter was gasping on the ground where Tony had left him, and let out a weak noise of pain as Tony lifted him. The kid was so small, gangly limbs hanging from Tony's arms, and his eyes were closing.

Bruce's voice was quick and focussed. "What happened?"

Tony held Peter close, and flew off, towards the Avengers base.

"He seemed okay, I didn't think anything was wrong but then he just collapsed and I think he's having trouble breathing. Friday sent you the information from his suit. I'll be there soon."

He ended the call, unable to explain. Peter had taken on a group of super scary guys by himself, he'd done his best to save a ship full of people, and Tony had yelled at him instead of making sure he was okay.

He felt awful, and he just hoped Peter would recover.

Bruce was waiting for them when they arrived at the base, and began checking the kid over as soon as Tony lay him on the nearby bed.

Peter was no longer conscious or responding at all, eyes closed and pale face lax, as his limbs lay sprawled on the mattress. This is what Tony had been afraid of, this was why he'd been so angry. Peter was a kid, and if he got hurt, if he died…

Bruce tapped on screen's and read stats, muttering things to himself as he did.

"Grade three…...Rotator cuff, that'll take a while…need an MRI for that one…That's far too low, where is he bleeding from?"

Tony didn't know what to do, or what most of what he said meant, and simply paced next to the bed as the doctor worked. Until Bruce started pressing on Peter's chest and stomach, frowning deeply, before peeling back the kids suit. His eyes went wide behind his glasses and he stepped away from the bed, hitting a call button on the wall.

"I need a med team in here now!"

Tony's blood ran cold, at Bruce's panic. He was supposed to fix the kid, what was he panicking for?

"What is it? Is he going to be okay?"

The Doctor started grabbing thing's as nurses ran in, pulling Peter's suit off and injecting things into his arm.

"He's bleeding internally-haemorrhaging, actually, and he's going into shock. We need to get the bleeding stopped now, or he's going to die."

Tony felt frozen all over, unable to move as he watched them work on the teenager, shining lights in his eyes and calling out to each other across his vulnerable form.

"I'm going to need an MRI on this before we do anything else."

"His airway is clear but he's not getting enough oxygen in, there's too much blood in his chest."

"Blood pressure's still dropping."

They started wheeling him away, and Tony instinctively went to follow until one of the nurses put a hand on his chest.

"You have to stay here, Mr Stark, I'm sorry."

Bruce turned to him, while pushing Peter's bed into the hallway, his face awash with concern and apology. "We'll take care of him, Tony."

Peter lay there, on that bed, pale and barely breathing, and for the first time, Tony could see the mottled colours stained across his skin, over his chest and stomach. He was dying, he had been dying, and Tony had yelled at him.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from those closed eyes. They'd looked so hurt, on that rooftop, betrayed and scared. What had he done?

And then he was gone, taken away by the small med team, and Tony could no nothing but wait for them to come back.

…

It took hours, and each minute was another pang of guilt and worry, like a shard of glass, into Tony's heart.

May kept calling, asking where her nephew was and for once, Tony didn't have an answer. He couldn't stand to hear her shaking voice as she asked where Peter was.

"Because I heard about that ferry incident, and Peter hasn't come home, what if he was on it! What if something happened to him? I'm losing my mind here, please, tell me you know where he is?"

Tony had choked on his words, unable to speak as the sound of Pete