It's okay to be saved once in a while too.

Half of his spider suit was destroyed. The entire back of the suit had been blasted into oblivion. Peter's back was an exposed, bloody mess. around the edges, where suit met skin, the two had basically fused the blast had been so hot. His suit would have to be surgically removed, it was binded to his flesh.

There was no crater in the middle of the street. Annabeth Chase was not dead. The ground was cracked and charred, but otherwise intact.

The Spider-hero currently laid face down on an operating table. He was thankfully unconscious. His flesh still sizzled from the heat of the blow. A worried Tony Stark stood above him. Annabeth Chase watched silent through a window, a viewing window.

As she stared, her mind went back to the events that had happened less than an hour ago. The coffee shop, Percy's boyfriend Peter, the explosions, Peter going missing...

Annabeth wasn't aware of anything for a few moments during the attack that Spider-Man shielded her from except for the blisteringly hot air which scorched her. Her head tucked into Spider-Man, she was pretty sure whatever his suit was made from had a hand in saving her life.

After the blast, still only able to see white, partially sure her retinas had been burned off despite the fact that her eyes had been squeezed shut, she used her other sensed. Touch- only able to feel Spider-Man's suit, except now it was warm to an uncomfortable temperature against her skin, and maybe, wet... from blood. Smell- burning. Her hair, but also flesh, was that Spider-Man's flesh? It filled her nostrils until it was sickening. She had to focus on something else- Taste- she tasted coppery blood from when she had fallen trying to get away from the Mecha, New York City asphalt, and a taste that was worse than both of the formers; the sick taste of panic and the smell of his flesh was making Annabeth physically nauseous. Hear- her hearing was coming back slowly, everything was deafeningly loud. Deafeningly loud. Deafeningly loud-

A tear, two tears. Tears leaked through Annabeth's closed shut eyes. The grand hero Spider-Man was probably dead because of her. She tried to hold in her sobs, but it was becoming hard, they were choking her and she was gasping for breath.

Every breath she took made her cough because she tasted the smells, worse than before. She was coughing and choking and she couldn't breath. She couldn't breath, but she couldn't move because Spider-Man was still holding onto her. Might not have been conscious but held onto her like their lives depended on it,,, they probably did.

She thought she was going to die, suffocating on the smell. Coughing, hacking, Annabeth couldn't free herself from his grib.

Strength gone after what felt like forever, a losing battle, Annabeth's head his Spider-Man's shoulder and a whimper escaped her lips.

Only then was she pulled away. Only then was she able to breath. Only then did she collapse onto the pavement, curled into a fetal position coughing and sobbing, arms hugging herself as she spat blood. Who or whatever had pulled her away had kind of just let her go once she was out of the Spider's grip.

Tartarus had messed her up. She was more than a little damaged now. Percy had been her anchor and he had moved on. Annabeth would never admit it but, she had... stress. She got visibly shaken up more easily now.

"Annabeth, are you okay?" That voice. The voice was rigid. She gasped, inhaled, breathing in a familiar smell. The voice was less than happy, horribly upset, shaky- but it was his.

She squinted. The sun was in her eyes and made the person leaning over Spider-Man a silhouette, but once her vision stopped swimming, she saw it was him. It was her ex. Percy Jackson. He was looking at her, but turned his attention back to Spider-Man after he determined that Annabeth was aware and alive.

The moments after that had been more of a blur, too much going on, overloading not just her senses, but her emotions.

Percy wasn't alone, he was with fucking Iron Man. The Mecha was no longer standing, or operating. And it was doubtful that it would ever operate again. It seems like they, Percy and the superhero, had both taken out their frustrations on it.

The street was empty other than the four. Annabeth could only look on in shock, now propped up on her elbow watching as Percy started to take off Spider-Man's mask.

"Jackson," Iron Man warned, indicating over to where Annabeth lay, facing them.

"He can't breath," was all Percy said in reply, still working the mask off, it was difficult, though luckily not seared onto his flesh.

Annabeth swallowed and finally found her voice, "What about Peter? Where is he? I couldn't find him after the explosion, Percy I-" her voice broke, more tears welling, threatening to spill. She felt so guilty.

Percy looked over at her once again, now his voice soft, not as stiffly directed at her as before, but a part of her knew that wouldn't last. "Annabeth, he's right here." He worked the mask the rest of the way off Spider-Man's head, or should she say Peter Parker's head, because that was the face under the mask. Except it was not the lively, socially awkward face she had met earlier that day. Whole head drooped and unconscious, hair hanging, features bruised, eyes didn't even flutter when the mask was removed.

That guilt that Annabeth had been feeling before just doubled. Trippled. Multiplied tenfold. "Oh my gods," and then she vomited.

All over her hands.

***

Her attention was caught by a door opening. She looked over to see Percy holding a cup and a sleeve of saltines. She had been standing in front of the viewing window, watching as Tony Stark, or Iron Man began to remove the Spider-Man's suit. It was precarious and slow and had given Annabeth the time to drift off and- her hands were shaking, resting on the window sill.

"Annabeth," It was all he said. He held out the two objects in his hands to her and waited for her to take them, arms extended. After a moment she turned her body in his direction and accepted, then retreated to a chair against the wall that still allowed her to see into the operating room.

To her surprise, Percy sat right next to her. He didn't speak though. He just leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded together. And he let his head hand, he didn't watch Stark, he just stared at the ground. His right leg, the one that wasn't next to her, tapped the ground furiously.

Annabeth observed, then took a sip of the cup he handed her. It was water, pleasantly cold, but it just tasted too filtered. She set it down on the floor next to her left leg, the one that wasn't next to Percy. She saw his eyes glance to her movement, but he didn't react or look up.

She grimaced at how noisy the saltines were when she tore the packaging open. Still no nothing from Percy. She took a small bite out of one, the rest placed on her lap. It was good, salty. Helped get the taste of sickness and guilt out of her mouth, momentarily.

"I'm sorry Percy," her voice didn't want to work at first, she had to clear her throat. Only then did he look at her. His green eyes were bloodshot and he looked- exhausted. Now that he was right in front of her, she could tell it was more than exhaustion. Percy was sick. The tapping of his leg hadn't stopped. She knew it was an anxiety thing mixed with an ADHD thing, not only did he always have to be moving, but the stress was eating away at him making his foot tapping faster, more sporadic. Only when she spoke did the tapping lessen and almost cease.

He sat up and angled his torso, facing her, hands still clasped, but he looked at her, attentive.

She tried again, "I'm sorry," she began.

"It's not your fault." he swallowed, "He risks his life like this daily, it's what he does. I should be used to it but-" He stopped, unsure of what he was trying to say.

"It's different, him being a super hero?" Annabeth's question wasn't really a question, she knew the answer. Peter willingly sacrificed everything for the greater good, for the neigborhood.

Percy nodded, "It's hard to accept. I-I just try to be supportive and try and protect him when I can, when it's a monster or something in my ballpark," he wasn't looking at her, he was looking down again.

It was Annabeth's turn to nod, she understood, "You really love him, don't you?"

He looked back up at her, expression troubled. Then, once again nodding, "Yeah, I really do," He had teared up a bit.

"You've got a thing for nerds,"

Percy's surprise at Annabeth's statement made them both laugh, just a bit. She was smiling now, "Percy I'm happy for you, I really am. It's just rough, I know you understand that much." Her eyes were searching his, her smile gone.

"Yeah, I know. It- I-" He took a breath and collected his thoughts, "we lost so much more than a realationship, we lost our best friends."

Annabeth gave a bittersweet smile, squeezing her hand against her thigh, "Yeah, exactly."

Some of that tension was gone. Her anger was gone.

Of course, the guilt was making it hard for her to swallow.