a spider & the devil

ii. the former protégé

Tony watched, a fist squeezing at his heart, as Peter squirmed restlessly in the bed. Bandages were wrapped around his eyes, stained yellow around his eye sockets from the medicine. The shallow cuts along his arms were already closing, but the teenage vigilante was still in pain as his broken ribs were pulling themselves back together.

"What if I can't see?" he begged for the thousandth time, hands anxiously squeezing the blue plastic of the Avengers infirmary bed. They were supposed to be filming a promotional first aid video for the team, so Tony hoped this wouldn't take too long.

"You will," he promised, holding his breath that the statement would be true. Whatever happened after this, Tony had decided as soon as Karen had called Friday, he would be taking the suit again. This was his fault, by extension; he'd been stupid enough to trust a fifteen year-old with multi-million dollar technology against superhuman villains. If he got killed, it would plague Tony's conscience for the rest of his long, lonely days.

Peter's chin tilted upwards, bandaged eyes pointing towards the ceiling. Sighing, Tony moved from where he had been standing by the infirmary window, which overlooked a peaceful view of the river, and stood next to his former apprentice.

Peter exhaled, trying to relax. "Okay."

Spider-Man wasn't the little ten year-old he'd saved at the Stark Expo, Tony reminded himself. As innocent as he was, he wasn't some fuzzy little teddy bear to be doted upon. Peter was a strong, independent young man with a brilliant and strong-willed mind, with or without the suit. He didn't need Tony hovering over his shoulder while he recovered.

"Well..." Tony grabbed his black raincoat that had been hastily draped across the back of one of the nurse's chairs. "If you're feeling better, I'm gonna go and get some work done."

Peter nodded, head still tilted up at the ceiling. He seemed to be calming. "Okay. Hey, thanks for dropping by, Mr. Stark."

Tony looked at Peter one more time over his shoulder before stepping out of the infirmary.

"You'll be alright."

- - -

24 hours later

Tony watched carefully as the bandages were gently stripped from Peter's eyes. The skin on his face was as baby-smooth as ever, not a single scar or remnant of the battle in sight. His eyes, which had been burned from some kind of alien plasma-energy gun the uppity new villain had stolen from the Vulture, seemed a bit unfocused but otherwise completely healed. Tony's personal nurse took a rag and wiped away some remnants of the soggy yellow medicine that had crusted around Peter's eyes.

"How's it lookin, kid?" Tony asked, giving him a smile. But a look of alarm crossed Peter's face and his eyes slid right over Tony's, continuing to dart around the room at random, not focusing on anything in particular.

"I--I can't see," Peter said, voice rising to a panicked shriek. "I can't see!"