Bruised But Not Broken - Irondad/spiderson

The Next Day

I slip back into darkness, the steady beeping of medical equipment threading through my dreams. The sound is close, right beside me, yet somehow distant, like it is coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

Footsteps move through the room. Back and forth. Shoes tapping softly against the floor. Someone sighs now and then, restless.

I open my eyes.

Light floods my vision, sharp but not unbearable. I blink slowly, giving myself time. My head aches, but the panic does not come rushing in this time.

I feel safe.

Turning my head slightly, I see Mr Stark sitting in a chair beside the bed. He is looking down at something in his hands, probably his phone.

"Mr Stark?" I ask quietly.

He looks up immediately.

"Hey," he says, standing so fast his chair scrapes the floor. "You're awake."

He sets the phone aside and steps closer, smiling in a way that feels careful. Like he is trying not to scare me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I promised your aunt I'd keep an eye on you while she was at work," he says. "And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You took a pretty serious hit."

"Oh," I say. "You really don't have to stay. I'm okay."

He frowns and drags the chair closer to my bed, sitting down again.

"Kid, I'm here whether you like it or not," he says. "You got hurt in my building. On my watch."

I swallow.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

I try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain flares through my body, sharp and deep. I bite back a sound and sink back into the mattress.

"Nothing I can't handle," I say, even as my face twists.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Sure," he says. "So tell me something, if you're up for it. Why did Eugene do this to you? You don't strike me as the fighting type."

I hesitate.

"I'm not really sure," I admit. "It just... happens sometimes."

I do not tell him about Flash. About the years of it. About how it never really stops. I do not want pity. I do not want another adult looking at me like I am fragile.

He studies me for a moment, then nods.

"Well," he says, "if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm here."

I nod slowly.

"Thank you, Mr Stark," I say. "But I kind of just met you. And you're the most famous person in the world."

He snorts.

"Fair enough," he says. "But you're going to be here for a bit. Might as well get to know each other."

I breathe out, tension easing slightly.

"You really don't have to stay," I say. "I'm sure you have important things to do. Meetings. Saving the world."

He leans back in his chair.

"Kid," he says, "I've got all the time in the world for you right now."

We talked for a while after that. About science. About school. About things that do not hurt to think about. He tells me I should take the intern test when I am ready. I cannot tell if he is serious or just trying to make me feel better.

Either way, it helps.

Eventually, doctors come in to help me stand. My leg, which was broken days ago, feels almost normal. The bruises on my chest have faded to yellow shadows. My head still throbs, heavy and sore.

Mr Stark watches closely.

"I have to ask," he says. "How are you healing this fast? My medical staff is incredible, but this is... unusual. Especially for someone as thin as you."

I swallow.

"I'm not sure," I say quietly. "I've always healed fast."

He hums, thoughtful.

"All right," he says. "I'll let that go. For now."

He stands.

"I'll check on you later," he adds, heading for the door.

When he leaves, the room feels quieter, but not empty.

As sleep pulls me under again, I cannot believe this is real. I talked to Tony Stark. That he stayed.

The beeping of the machines fades. For once, the darkness does not feel frightening.

I am not alone.

And for now, that is enough.