Tony sent Peter back to his hotel with Happy forever ago. Grace didn't want to leave, so Peter told her to text him when she could, to let him know if everything turned out okay. Or if she just needed someone other than her dad to talk to. She said she would.

Now, she's standing with her dad — whose arm is in a sling — outside the room where her godfather is getting an MRI. Vision hit him during the fight, though he was aiming for Sam, who's standing with them, looking at Rhodey regretfully.

Tony asks, "How did this happen?"

"I became distracted," Vis replies quietly.

Grace looks up at him. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Neither did I."

Grace looks farther down the hall and spots Nat, then runs over to her, hugging her tightly. A few tears slip out, but that's all. She's almost cried out by now.

"T'Challa told us..." Grace quietly trails off.

Nat sighs. "You told me to do something... I did what I thought was right."

Grace hugs her tighter. If Nat believes Steve, then it must be true — it wasn't Bucky's fault. And they have to stop that psychologist. "Thank you."

Before Nat can respond, Tony clears his throat.

He's standing a few feet away from them, and he clearly wants to talk to Nat. She pulls back and nods at Grace. "See you when I see you," she says quietly.

"See you when I see you," Grace replies, heading back over to Vision. She decides to go ahead and text Peter. He's probably sitting in his hotel room right now, bored out of his mind.

Meanwhile, Tony's talking to Nat. "The doctors say he shattered L4 through S1. Extreme laceration in the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis."

"Steve's not gonna stop," Nat replies. "If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario."

"You let them go, Nat."

"We played this wrong."

"'We?'" Tony asks. "Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? It sticks in the DNA."

"Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one second?" Nat replies sharply, then shaking her head in regret. "We should've listened to Grace when we had the chance."

"Well, we didn't," Tony replies. "She disagreed with the Accords, and you know we need them. You signed them. She's only been in one big fight, and even then she wasn't really in it. She doesn't get it. She can't."

"She knew this would tear us apart," Nat argues. "You know what she told Wanda and me after your fight?" She pauses, thinking back on it — her and Wanda, trying to calm Grace down as she sat against the wall and cried. Tony says nothing, so Nat continues. "She said, 'I just don't want you guys to hurt each other.' And look what we did."

Tony sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Well, it's too late now."

"That's what I told her," Nat says. "Out there, during that stupid fight... she said I was her last hope to fix this."

"And then you let Steve and Bucky go," Tony finishes. "Is that what she told you to do?"

"No. She told me to do something. And I did what I thought was right."

Tony shakes his head. "T'Challa told Ross what you did, so... they're coming for you."

"I'm not the one that needs to watch their back." Nat turns. "Tell Grace that I'm sorry."

And with that, she's gone.

~~~~

Happy arrived at the hospital not long after and drove Grace to the hotel where he and Peter were staying. Tony called, and he got her a room for the time being. Then, he left in a hurry. Grace hardly had the energy to ask; he'd tell her if he wanted her to know, anyway.

But he did tell her that Nat said she was sorry. Grace was pretty sure she knew what that meant, considering everything.

When she got to the hotel, after entering through the back, Happy showed her her room — it was right next to his, two doors down from Peter's — and she went inside. If she had any clothes with her, she would've taken a shower, but she didn't bring any but the ones she had on.

Instead, she's now laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking.

Steve and Bucky are gone. It's a good thing, though not what she'd hoped for. Sam, Clint, Wanda, and the weird guy have all been arrested. Vision is guilt-ridden. Rhodey is probably paralyzed — at least to a degree. Nat is gone. T'Challa is still seeking revenge. Her father left on some urgent business that he didn't tell her about.

And Peter is just two doors down from her.

She gets up and quietly walks over to his door, hesitating for a moment before she knocks. When he answers, he's still wearing the Spider-Man suit, though without the mask. His eyes widen in surprise, seeing her standing there, looking tired and worn but still amazing somehow, in a resilient sort of way. "Grace."

"Hey, Parker."

"Uh..." He just looks at her for a second, having no idea what to do or say. She raises a brow at him, giving him that familiar look. He jumps. "Oh, uh, come in." He moves aside, letting her into the room.

She spots his suitcase, sitting open as if it exploded, on the floor. "So you brought extra clothes, and yet you're still wearing the suit?"

He shrugs as he closes the door. "Ye-Yeah. It's, uh, it's a really cool suit."

She nods, then turns back to him. "Well, uh... it suits you." She smiles a little.

Peter laughs. "That was so lame."

"Well, I found it on the web."

"Stop," he says, though he's still laughing.

Grace is too. She smiles. "I meant it, though — it does suit you."

At that, he blushes. "W-Well, I-I, uh, I, um — thanks. Um... you-your suit... suits you... too."

She laughs again. "Thanks, Parker."

"Um... y-you're welcome."

They fall quiet, both not knowing what to say until Peter realizes he's being a horrible host and wants to kick himself. "Um, you can go... sit down, if you want... Make yourself at home..."

"Thanks," Grace replies, laughing lightly as she walks over and sits down in a chair in the corner of the room, resting her elbow on the arm of it, propping her head up on her hand.

Peter awkwardly walks over and sits down on the bed, a little ways away from her. "So, uh... Any more news? On War Machine?"

She shakes her head. "Not after I texted you, no. Dad took off in a hurry. And Nat..."

"Black Widow?" he asks when she doesn't speak again for some time.

"Yeah." She pauses again, then breathes deeply and says, "I didn't tell you before, but... she let Steve and Bucky go. After I talked to her."

Peter's eyes widen. "Really?"

Grace nods, swallows. "I told her to do something, so... she did. She believes Steve. And, if he's right, then... Bucky doesn't deserve to go to prison. This still changes nothing about the Accords argument, but if it was just about the Accords that fight probably never would've happened anyway."

She almost wishes it was just about the Accords, but then she looks at Peter. If that fight never happened, she never would've met him. But what she wishes doesn't really matter, anyway. Because it happened. And people got hurt.

She sighs again. "Nat, she... she had to stop T'Challa in order for Steve and Bucky to escape. He told us and the Secretary of State what happened. So, she's gone now. On the run, I guess..."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Peter."

"Sorry..." he says. She looks at him, and he's tempted to say sorry again, but he stops himself. "Well..." he starts, looking at the sad, exhausted expression on her face. "Um... What's your favorite movie?"

Grace raises a brow at him again, though she laughs this time, brightening a little. "What?"

"There's nothing more to talk about about the fight, and it makes you sad, anyway. So let's talk about something else — what's your favorite movie?" Peter replies, laughing a little too. He has no idea how to talk to her in a way that doesn't make him look awkward or lame, but she doesn't seem to care all that much. She just laughs. And Peter likes her laugh.

She's looking up at the ceiling now, as if her favorite movie would be written up there. "Gosh, Peter, I don't know. I've seen so many movies..." She looks back at him, shrugging. "I mean, I like Harry Potter."

Peter smiles. "Harry Potter is cool."

"Really?" Grace asks, seeming to perk up even more. "What's your House?"

"Oh, I-I don't know."

She studies him for a moment, thinking. "I think you're a Hufflepuff — though I don't know you that well... yet."

Peter blushes. "Wh-What's your House?"

"Gryffindor."

"I can see that," Peter replies thoughtfully. In the short time he's known her, he can already see how brave she is. Asking a boy she barely knew to help her face a bunch of superheroes right under her father's nose — then trying to convince those heroes to lay down their weapons. It didn't work, but she persuaded Black Widow. That was definitely something.

"So, what's your favorite movie?" she asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Me?" he says. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Is it Empire Strikes Back?" she asks jokingly.

It is now, he thinks. "Ye-Yeah, actually. Yeah. That's a good one." He clears his throat. "So, uh... what's your favorite..." he scrambles for something "... book?" Her eyes light up, and he knows that was the right question to ask.

"How can you expect me to choose? There's so many." She begins to list some off. "Harry Potter, obviously — The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hunger Games, The Fault in Our Stars, Anne of Green Gables — oh, Jane Eyre-"

Peter stops her. "Jane Eyre?" It just seems so different from all the other ones she said before it.

Grace nods. "Yeah. It's a classic." She heaves a sigh, then. "Well, I could add to that list for forever. What's your favorite book?"

Peter shrugs. "I-I mean, I don't read all that much — at least, not as much as it sounds like you do — but... we read The Great Gatsby in English last year, and I really liked that."

Grace smiles. "I love The Great Gatsby."

"The ending, though..."

"I know. I don't think I could ever hate someone as much as I hate Daisy."

"I know!" They lapse into comfortable silence after that, then Peter nods at her. "Alright, now it's your turn. You ask a question."

Grace thinks for a moment. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. What's yours?"

"Purple."

~~~~

After talking for what felt like hours, Grace finally left Peter's room and went to her own to get some sleep. Tony never called her.

Now, Happy's waking her up in the middle of the night and telling her that they're flying back to New York.

"Where's Dad?" she asks, rubbing her eyes and following him out the door anyway.

"He didn't say," Happy replies, "but I'm sure he'll tell you when he gets back."

They wait for a moment, then Peter comes out of his room, lugging his suitcase behind him. He's still in his pajamas, and his hair is sticking up in all directions, which Grace finds absolutely adorable. There are bags under his eyes. He yawns. "Okay. I'm ready."

Happy brings the car around the back of the hotel — to keep anyone who might be up at this time of night from seeing Grace — then they get inside. Peter looks over at Grace, who's sitting next to him. He doesn't know what to say to her, especially with Happy here. The conversation they had yesterday — really, only a few hours ago — was easy after a certain point. But he didn't know how to start another one.

All they really talked about was surface stuff, and, then a little bit about how she's shut up all the time, how she's hidden from the world. But that part of the conversation was quite brief, and they started talking about pretty much nothing again. It was nice — it was a start — but Peter wanted to know more.

He wanted to know whether she'd rather watch the sunrise or the sunset. He wanted to know if she painted simply because she wanted to or because she needed to. He wanted to look through her sketchbook and ask her what each line of a picture meant. Why it was there. Why she chose to put it there. He wanted to know why her favorite songs were her favorite songs, and what she would do if she had a whole day to leave the tower and do whatever she wanted. He wanted to know if she wanted to know more about him too.

But he didn't know how to ask.

They get on the plane, and Peter sits down. She sits down next to him, and Happy plants himself a few seats away.

Peter looks over at her, willing himself to say something as she buckles her seatbelt. But she speaks first. "I wish I had a book." Her voice is still a bit gravelly, as she hasn't spoken much since she woke up.

Peter smiles. "I didn't bring one, either."

"I guess I could just sleep for the whole nine hours," Grace replies, not looking at him. "Didn't bring a pillow either, though."

Peter gets an idea, then stutters it out, blushing. "Um, well, my-my sh-shoulder might, um, make a decent pillow. I-If you, uh..." he trails off. But she puts her head on his shoulder anyway; it isn't the first time, and if he's offering...

She smiles. "Thanks, Parker."

Peter smiles too, despite himself. "You're welcome."

They both fall asleep rather quickly, her head on his shoulder, and his head resting on hers, even though he's in the window seat. Happy, before he falls asleep, notices but decides not to wake them up.

He doesn't know what plans Tony has for the kid — or Grace. They might end up around each other all the time. Or they might never cross paths again. But, for now, they're on a plane, using each other as pillows, and Grace has a smile on her face despite everything that's happened to her over the past few months. That's all that matters, right?

Happy sighs, knowing that one thing is for certain.

Grace Stark is growing up.