"It's Peter." He could barely talk, he was crying so hard, but he HAD to say goodbye, because he never got to say goodbye to his parents or Uncle Ben and god knows he'd never let that happen again.

"Hey," he tried to catch his breath, not even bothering to stop the tears that were now streaming down his face. "We won, Mr. Stark. We won, Mr. Stark. We won and you did it, sir, you did it."

Tony stared back at him, the life fading quickly from his eyes, wanting so badly to tell his kid that it would all be ok, but no sound came from his aching throat.

"I'm sorry," Peter felt a cold metal hand rest firmly on his shoulder, pulling him back. "Tony-"

He let Pepper pull him back up and he fell into her arms, crying harder than he ever had before.

Peter leaned over the cold hard bathroom sink, warm tears flowing down his cheeks, heart pounding harder with each sob that shook through his whole body. Catching his breath, he pulled out his phone and, without even thinking, clicked on the contact at the top of his screen. Happy Hogan picked up the phone before it even rang twice. "Kid, what happened? Are you ok?"

His voice shaking, he choked out, "Um, i… not really…"

"Did you have a panic attack again?" Happy asked, concerned. Since everyone had come back, the two of them had gotten much closer. Happy actually answered his phone now. Now he had a reason to care.

"Yeah…" Peter said, not much more than a whisper.

Happy knew that Peter hadn't been doing well at all; this poor kid was only 17 and had already lost four different parental figures. Happy knew better than anyone that Tony had loved the kid as much as the kid idolized him. There was no denying that Tony was, on all levels except physical, Peter's new dad. It had absolutely broken Tony to watch his kid die and know that maybe, just maybe, he could have stopped it, and it hurt Peter just as much to see Tony die to save the world. Happy knew Peter needed someone to be there for him; he would always make sure the kid knew he'd never be alone.

"I'm sorry, I don't really know why I called you…"

"It's ok, kid. I understand. Listen, why don't you come back to the compound? I think it'll help."

When Peter arrived at the Avengers compound, he felt a lump in his throat and a stinging in his eyes. It hurt him to see this place - his second home, which he so strongly associated with Tony - all burnt and broken. Burnt and broken, just like… just like… when he…

"Hey kid!" Happy said, coming out of the main entrance, a feigned smile on his face for both of their sakes. "Looks rough, doesn't it? The construction crew is rebuilding it fairly quickly, but it took some nasty hits during all the fighting. Come on in, there's someone I want you to meet."

Peter gave him an unsure look as he followed Happy back into the building.

Happy sighed, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. It reminded Peter too much of what Tony had done, right before he offered the kid a place in the Avengers. He had wanted that so badly. Peter's heart ached and he longed for that simpler time.

"Look, Peter," Happy began, "I'm worried about you. You keep getting panic attacks in school. That's not healthy. And it's not your fault. I want you to talk to a psychiatrist; i think it would help you."

"I really don't want to talk to a doctor," Peter said. "For A LOT of reasons."

Happy nodded understandingly. "Your identity is safe. He works here, and has worked with some of the other Avengers. Doctor Samson has a top secret security clearance through Stark Industries AND through the United States government. In terms of secrets, there's no one better."

Peter sighed and thought for a moment. "Ok," he said grudgingly. "I'll do it."

"Have you had anything traumatic happen in your life?" Dr. Samson asked, about 10 minutes into the appointment.

"Um..." Peter hesitated, still not completely comfortable with a stranger knowing all of his secrets. "Well, my parents died when I was a kid, so I moved in with my aunt and uncle, and then my uncle was killed. And I - I could have stopped it, but… I failed him. I was still figuring out how to... um, I was still figuring out some stuff." He cleared his throat. "Then just the usual, getting trapped under a building, et cetera. I uh.. I was one of the ones who sorta disintegrated, but apparently I was the only person who felt anything happen because I have.. well I have this like really good intuition and it kinda hurt a lot but mostly I was really just scared. And then I finally came back and like 20 minutes later someone I really care about died right in front of me."

He glanced up, suddenly realizing that he had been staring at his feet the whole time, to see Doctor Samson staring at him with a new gleam in his narrowed eyes. "You're Spider-Man," he said.

Peter nodded solemnly. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Um… it was fairly obvious from what you just told me. Anyway, I'd like you to describe what happens when you get a panic attack."

"Well, it usually happens after someone mentions the battle with Thanos or talks about Tony Stark dying. I kinda feel like I'm choking, my heart beats really fast, and I feel sick and dizzy and out of breath."

Dr. Samson nodded. "Have your general mood and quality of life decreased since this happened?"

"Significantly. It's like I don't really enjoy the stuff I used to do anymore. I love engineering and science and all that, or at least I used to, but now it's hard. It… it reminds me of him. And I don't want to die per se, but I don't want to live anymore. I just… can't."

"And recurring nightmares? Do you have those?"

"Oh definitely. I haven't told anyone because I don't want to worry them, but I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep in a long time. And it's not just recent stuff; it's all kinds of things dating back to when I was a little kid. It's like everything is suddenly resurfacing."

"That makes sense. Based on everything you've told me, you almost certainly have severe PTSD."

Peter bit his lip and nodded. He'd kind of known it all along, but he didn't want to accept it. But now he had to.

In a cold, dark basement that looked almost like a cave, a man woke up on a stiff mattress. The right side of his body was numb. He looked around, confused. He appeared to be alone. "Hello?" he cried out, voice raspy and broken. "Is anyone there?"

A tall man in a long blue cloak and floating red cape stepped out from the deep, dark shadows.

"Stephen Strange." the tired man groaned.

"I'm quite glad to see you awake. I'm afraid this means we have work to do. But first, you need rest."