Archive of Our Own

The gala was a blur of high-end fashion and senseless chatter. Tony’s phone, along with Bruce’s, Steve’s and Sam’s, sat in a velvet-lined locker at the entrance, standard protocol for a "secure" fundraiser. They were laughing at a joke Rhodey had made, oblivious to the fact that miles away, the world was ending.

Penny Parker was stumbling. The sidewalk felt like it was made of liquid, rolling beneath her feet in nauseating waves. Her skin felt hot and cold all at once, and there was a metallic, copper taste in the back of her throat that made her want to claw at her own tongue.

May was out of the question. She knew she was on a late shift. 

So, she called Happy. No answer. Tony. Voicemail. Steve. Sam. Bruce.

Every "Please leave a message" was a fresh serrated edge against her heart. She was shaking so hard she nearly dropped the phone into a storm drain. Her vision was tunneling, the streetlights stretching into long, agonizing spears of white. With a hand that felt like it belonged to someone else, she scrolled to her next option. 

Bucky.

He picked up on the second ring. He didn't say "Hello." He just heard the jagged, wet sound of her breathing and his voice went low. "Penny? Where are you?"

"Bucky?" It was a broken whisper. "I’m at 42nd and Oak. Can you... can you come get me? Please."

"I’m already moving," Bucky said. "Stay on the line. Talk to me, doll."

But she couldn't talk. She just leaned against a cold brick wall and cried silently into the receiver until the black sedan screeched to a halt in front of her.

The drive back to the Tower was silent, and that was the loudest thing about it. Bucky had found her huddled in the shadows, her makeup smeared across her face, her favorite thrifted dress torn at the shoulder and rumpled in a way that made Bucky’s stomach turn.

He hadn't pushed. He’d simply wrapped his heavy leather jacket around her, the scent of old cedar and motor oil acting as a temporary anchor, and lifted her into the passenger seat. He drove with his metal hand on the wheel and the other a steady presence on her arm. 

Bucky spoke to voice command in the car and called the only number that mattered. It went to Tony’s private line, bypassing the gala’s dampeners via a Stark-encrypted emergency override.

Tony picked up, his voice hushed and annoyed. "Barnes? This better be an actual invasion, I'm in the middle of a-"

"Tony, listen to me," Bucky interrupted, his voice like grinding stones. He looked in the rearview mirror at the hollow, haunted look in Penny’s eyes. "I have Penny. I’m ten minutes from the Tower."

Tony’s tone shifted instantly. "What? Why do you have her? Is she hurt? Is it a hit?"

Bucky let the silence linger for a heartbeat too long. "She’s not physically wounded, Stark. But she's out of it. Her clothes are a mess. Her makeup is... she’s been drugged."

“Keep her safe, we’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

The line went dead. 

The Tower was hauntingly quiet when the elevator doors hissed open. Usually, the penthouse was filled with the hum of ACDC or the chaotic banter of a Friday movie night, but tonight, it was just the sterile click of Bucky’s boots on the marble floor.

He didn't take her to the Medbay yet. He could feel her heart hammering against his chest like a trapped bird, and he knew the bright, fluorescent lights of a hospital wing would only shatter what was left of her composure. Instead, he carried her to the massive, sunken living room couch and set her down.

Penny didn't move. She sat exactly where he placed her, clutching his leather jacket around her shoulders as if it were a suit of armor. Her eyes were fixed on the dark skyline of Manhattan, but she wasn't seeing the lights.

"Penny," Bucky murmured, kneeling on the floor in front of her so he wasn't looming. He reached out with his flesh hand, resting it on the cushion next to her knee. "I need you to look at me, doll. Just for a second."

It took a long time, but her head finally turned. Her makeup was a ruined map of black streaks across her pale cheeks. Her lip was slightly swollen where she’d been biting it to keep from screaming.

"I can't remember," she whispered. The drug was making her voice sound hollow, like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "Bucky, I... I passed out. I woke up and he was... he was on top of me. I couldn't move. My legs... they wouldn't work. I kept telling them to move and they wouldn't."

Bucky felt a cold, ancient rage settle, the kind of rage that didn't scream, but went very, very still. "Who, Penny? Give me a name."

"He’s someone’s brother. He said his name was Skip," she choked out, her fingers digging into the leather of his jacket. "He’s in college. He seemed so nice, Bucky. He brought me a water. I felt sick and he asked if I wanted to lie down... I was so stupid. I thought he was just being nice. I thought... I thought….."

"You weren't stupid," Bucky said, his voice cracking just once. "He was a monster who knew how to look like a person."

He stayed there for twenty minutes, listening to her fragments of memory, the smell of his cologne, the weight of him, the way the room spun. Her going silent and then telling him some piece of her memory in a detached voice, until finally the private elevator chimed with a sharp, aggressive ding.

Tony, Steve, Sam, and Bruce burst into the room. They were still in their tuxedos, ties undone, smelling of expensive gala air and frantic desperation. Tony’s face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.

"Penny!" Tony cried, rushing forward.

Bucky stood up instantly, stepping into Tony’s path and placing a heavy hand on his chest. "Stop. Don't."

"Get out of my way, Barnes," Tony snarled, his eyes wild. "That’s my kid. Let me-"

"She’s terrified, Tony," Bucky said, his voice a low, dangerous warning. "You come at her like a hurricane right now, you're going to break her. Everyone, into the kitchen. Now."

The authority in Bucky’s voice was absolute. Even Steve didn't argue. They huddled into the kitchen, just out of Penny’s line of sight, though Tony kept his eyes glued to the back of her head through the glass partition.

"Talk," Tony commanded, his voice trembling. "What did she say?"

Bucky looked at the four men, men who fought gods and aliens, and saw them all shrinking under the weight of what he was about to say.

"She was drugged," Bucky began, his jaw locked tight. "I’m sure of it. She remembers a drink. She remembers some college kid named Skip offering her a place to lie down because she felt sick. She passed out. She woke up and he was on top of her. She said she tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond."

The silence that followed was deafening. Tony slumped against the marble island, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Bruce looked like he was going to be physically ill.

Sam leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed. "He used her goodness against her. That's a specific kind of evil."

"I'm going to kill him," Tony said. It wasn't a threat; it was a cold, hard fact.

"No," Bucky said. "You’re going to stay here…. You’re going to be the 'Dad.’ she needs."

Silence passed over the group. 

"I need a blood sample," Bruce said, his voice trembling. "I need to know what he gave her."

They moved back into the living room. Up close, away from the shadows of the hallway, the sight of her was a physical blow that stopped the very air in Tony’s lungs. The overhead lights of the penthouse caught the jagged smears of black mascara across her cheekbones, emphasizing the hollow, haunted look in her red-rimmed eyes.

Her blue dress was twisted and rumpled, the fabric snagged in a dozen places, its straps hanging loose and broken against her skin. Most damning were her tights, dark nylon torn at the knees and snagged up the thighs, a silent, secondary witness to the struggle she couldn’t fully remember.

“Penny,” Tony choked out, his voice cracking as his gaze tracked the physical evidence of what had been done to her. Her hair, usually a soft, wavy mass, was a tangled wreck. 

But it was the bruises that made his vision swim. A stark, purplish bruise bloom on her left cheekbone, its shape undeniable, a fresh, violent imprint of a slap. At some point Bucky’s jacket had slipped, and Tony could see them: faint, blue-black marks wrapping around her small upper arms. They were unmistakable, the distinct, hand-shaped bruises left by a man holding her down while she was paralyzed.

“Penny, honey,” Tony whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out, his hands hovering, but he stopped. He was afraid he would scare her if he touched her. 

He crouched slightly, lowering himself into her line of sight instead of towering over her.

“Hey, Penn,” he said softly. “It’s me. It’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Penny didn’t fully turn at first. The world still felt thick and distant, like she was underwater. But Tony’s voice, familiar, warm, steady even when it shook, cut through the fog just enough.

Safe, something in her brain whispered. Not loud. Not certain. But there.

Tony reached out, then hesitated, his hands hovering for a fraction of a second.

“Can I-” he started, then corrected himself gently. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

A pause. Small. Barely there. But Penny’s fingers tightened slightly in the leather jacket.

She nodded.  It was enough.

Tony took that as permission and sat beside her, not too close at first.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ve got you. You’re safe. Nothing’s getting past us. Not tonight. Not ever again.”

Bruce stepped into her line of sight next, his face a mask of forced clinical calm despite the way his hands shook. He knelt by the couch, keeping his voice a low, steady murmur. “Penny, I need to take a small blood sample, okay? I need to see what's in your system so I can help you feel better. I promise, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Penny saw the glint of the needle in Bruce's hand and her breath hitched, a sharp, panicked sound that rattled in her chest. Even drugged and traumatized, the "Spider-Sense" was screaming, her instincts flaring at the threat of the piercing metal.

Tony was pulling her towards him in a heartbeat. He pulled her head against his chest, shielding her eyes with his hand, tucking her face into the expensive wool of his jacket, creating a dark, safe space for her that was free from needles and monsters.

“Don’t look at it, P-Stark. Look at me. Or, well, look at my tuxedo. It’s very expensive. Tell me how much you hate the lapels. Focus on the fashion, kid.”

Penny’s forehead pressed weakly into his chest. The fabric was smooth and warm, and for the first time, something solid existed in the world again. Something real.

His voice vibrated through him when he talked, low and constant, and she clung to that more than the words themselves.

While Tony rambled about fashion and billionaire problems, Bruce quickly found a vein and drew the sample. He hurried back to the lab station in the corner for a rapid tox-screen.

The silence while the machine whirred was agonizing. When it finally beeped, Bruce’s face went a ghostly shade of grey. He walked back to the team, the results trembling in his hand.

They stepped away from Penny for the moment. 

"It’s a high-grade sedative," Bruce whispered. "A date-rape drug, but the concentration is... it’s astronomical. If she wasn't enhanced, she would be dead. Her heart would have just stopped before he even touched her."

"She needs a pelvic exam," Bruce continued softly. "I’ll call Dr. Cho. We need May here, Tony. Right now."

Happy, standing by the door, looked physically pained. His face was set in a mask of grief as he headed for the garage. "I'll get her, Tony. I'll bring her here.”

The words filtered through the team slowly. Too slow. Not fast enough to process, just enough to hurt.

"Her metabolism is the only reason she’s alive, but it’s also why this is so violent," Bruce continued, his voice thick with clinical exhaustion. "Her system is trying to incinerate the toxin, but the concentration is too high. It’s like throwing gasoline on a guttering fire."

"I need to start her on a high-volume saline flush and a heavy dose of diuretics. We need to force her kidneys to filter this out before the sedative does permanent damage to her central nervous system. I’m going to add a localized stimulant to counteract the paralysis, but it’s a waiting game now."

He finally looked up, his eyes weary behind his glasses. "She’s going to feel like she’s freezing while her blood feels like it’s boiling. Her heart is going to race. We just have to keep her hydrated and wait for her body to win the fight."

Tony nodded once, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, we can do that. We’ve handled worse, right?”

No one responded.

Tony walked back to where Penny was sitting on the couch, as Bruce left for medbay to get supplies. 

He sat beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand cradling the back of her head like if he let go, she might disappear.

Penny shifted weakly against him, her fingers curling into the front of his jacket. Her voice was small. Fractured.

“Tony…”

He immediately leaned down, his voice softening into something almost unrecognizable. “Yeah, Penn. I’m right here.”

Her breath hitched. Once. Twice.

“I was so stupid.”

Everything in Tony went still.

Not explosive. Not loud.

Just… still.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, one hand coming up to gently cup the side of her face, careful of the bruise, careful of everything.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “No. No, we’re not doing that.”

Penny’s eyes flickered, unfocused, but searching his anyway.

“I thought he was being nice,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He got me water and I…I went with him and I didn’t… I didn’t…”

Her words tangled, slipping over each other.

“I should’ve known better.”

Tony shook his head immediately, sharper this time, but his touch stayed gentle.

“Stop. Right there. That’s where that thought ends.”

He brushed a piece of hair back from her face, his fingers trembling.

“You don’t get to rewrite this into something that’s your fault.”

Her grip tightened in his jacket, like she was bracing for impact, for him to agree, even a little.

“You were kind,” Tony said, softer now. “You trusted someone who didn’t deserve it. That doesn’t make you stupid, it makes you exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t look away.

Something in her chest twisted painfully. The word stupid didn’t disappear, but it didn’t land the same way anymore.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued. “Not one percent. Not even a little. He made a choice. A bad one. That’s on him.”

He leaned his forehead gently against hers.

“You hear me?”

It took a second. Then, barely-

A small, shaky nod.

Tony exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

“Good. That’s the only version of that story we’re telling. Ever.”

“Bruce is going to get an IV set up to help flush out the drug in your system, I’ll be here the whole time.”

Penny nodded weakly again.

Suddenly Bruce reappeared with an IV stand and a cart of supplies.

Penny tensed slightly at the movement, her body still too slow to react properly, but her instincts flaring anyway.

Tony noticed immediately.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pulling her a little closer, not trapping, just anchoring. “You’re okay. It’s just Bruce. No surprises.”

Bruce didn’t move any closer right away. He stopped a few feet from the couch, lowering himself slightly so he wasn’t towering over her, his hands visible, open, non-threatening.

“Hey, Penny,” he said gently, his voice softer than his usual clinical tone. “I’m going to walk you through everything before I do it, okay? Nothing happens without you knowing first.”

Her eyes flicked toward him, still hazy, but she was listening.

“I’m going to set up an IV in your arm,” Bruce continued, slow and steady. “It’s a small needle, just to get a line in place. Once it’s in, the needle comes out and it’s just a soft tube.”

He paused, giving her a second to process.

“It’s going to help us push fluids into your system faster than you could drink them. That’ll help your body get rid of what’s in your bloodstream.”

Penny swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly in Tony’s sleeve.

“You might feel a quick pinch when it goes in,” Bruce added. “After that, just some pressure. If anything hurts more than that, you tell me and I stop. Immediately. Okay?”

A small beat. Then, another faint nod.

Bruce offered her a small, reassuring smile.

He took one careful step closer, still giving her space.

“The medication I’m giving you might feel… strange,” he continued. “Your body’s already fighting the drug pretty hard. This is going to speed that up.”

He adjusted something on the IV line as he spoke, keeping his movements slow and visible.

“You might feel cold, even if you’re not. Or like your skin is too hot. Your heart might feel like it’s racing. That’s expected. It doesn’t mean anything is going wrong.”

Penny’s brow furrowed slightly, like she was trying to hold onto each word and file it somewhere safe.

“I’ll be right here the whole time,” Bruce said. “And Tony’s not going anywhere.”

He glanced at her, softer now.

“You’re doing really well, Penny. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are. You called for help. You’re staying present. That’s… that’s incredibly brave.”

The word brave seemed to land somewhere different than the others. Not fully understood, but not rejected, either.

Tony shifted slightly beside her, his voice low near her ear. “Told you. Overachiever.”

A faint, almost imperceptible exhale left her, something just shy of a laugh, or maybe just less tension.

Bruce gently pulled on a pair of gloves.

“Alright,” he said softly. “I’m going to touch your arm now, okay? Just to find a good spot.”

Penny hesitated, then gave the smallest nod.

He worked carefully, narrating as he went.

“Cleaning your skin first, it’ll feel a little cold.”

She flinched slightly at the antiseptic, but Tony’s hand steadied at the back of her head, grounding her.

“You’re doing great,” Bruce murmured. “I’m going to place the IV now. Quick pinch.”

Penny’s grip tightened sharply in Tony’s jacket as the needle went in, her breath catching, but it was over quickly.

“All done with the needle part,” Bruce said immediately. “Tube’s in place. You did exactly what you needed to do.”

Her shoulders dropped just a fraction, tension bleeding out in tiny increments.

“I’m starting fluids now,” Bruce continued, adjusting the line. “You might start to feel the effects in a minute or two.”

He glanced up at her again, eyes gentle behind his glasses.

“If anything feels too intense, you tell me. You’re in control here, Penny.”

At first, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, everything did.

A chill crept up her arms, sharp and sudden, like stepping into freezing water. Penny’s shoulders jerked, her breath catching as her body tried to make sense of it.

“I…” she stammered, voice thin. “I’m cold...”

Tony reacted instantly, shifting closer.

“I know, Penn. I know,” he murmured, already pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch around her shoulders, tucking it in gently. “That’s what Bruce said might happen, remember? Your body’s just working overtime.”

The cold didn’t stay cold. It twisted, flipped, until her skin felt too hot, too tight, like she was burning from the inside out.

Her breath sped up.

Her heart started racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

“I can’t…” she gasped. 

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Tony said quickly, his hand tightening around hers. “Stay with me, Penn. Breathe with me, come on, just in, and out.”

Behind them, there was the quiet sound of footsteps.

Bucky.

He didn’t announce himself loudly. Didn’t interrupt. He just moved into the edge of her vision and crouched slightly, grounding himself in her space the same way he had before.

“Hey, doll,” he said softly.

Her eyes flicked toward him, still unfocused, but recognizing.

“Feels like your body’s trying to run a marathon without asking you first, yeah?” he added, voice low and steady.

A tiny, shaky breath left her, something that might have been agreement.

Bucky nodded once, like that was enough.

“It’s loud right now,” he continued. “All of it. Too loud. But it’s just noise.”

He gestured lightly between her and Tony.

“Focus on what’s real. Tony. The couch. My voice. You’re here. You made it out. That part’s already done.”

The words didn’t fix it, but they gave her something to hold onto that wasn’t spinning.

Tony squeezed her hand gently.

“You hear the man? Very dramatic, but occasionally useful.”

Bucky huffed the faintest breath of something like a laugh.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Stark.”

The corner of Penny’s mouth twitched, just barely. Not a smile. But not nothing.

Her grip on Tony tightened again as another wave of heat rolled through her, her body trembling.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered.

Tony immediately leaned in closer.

“I know,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.”

Bucky nodded, his voice quieter now.

“Just ride it out, doll. It comes in waves. That means it also passes.”

Wave. The word stuck. Not endless. Not permanent. Just… something that would crest and fall.

Tony brushed his thumb lightly over her knuckles.

“Stay with us,” he murmured. “That’s it. That’s the whole job.”

Stay. The word caught somewhere in the noise. Not fix it. Not stop it. Just… stay.

Her breathing hitched again, but this time, she didn’t pull away.

She stayed. She leaned back into Tony and closed her eyes. 

Bucky waited a moment and looked over at where Steve and Sam were, still in the kitchen. He glanced at Bruce adjusting the IV and back at Penny.

Small. Innocent. Hurt. 

Before he could think about it any more, Bucky was already headed toward the elevator, his jaw locked.

"Bucky, wait," Steve said, stepping into his path. "Don't do anything. Stay here. Let the authorities handle it."

Bucky looked at his oldest friend, and for a second, the Winter Soldier flickered in his gaze. "Even if this goes to court, I’m not interested in his lawyers or his character witnesses. I’m not interested in 'misunderstandings.'"

He stepped into Steve's space, his voice a low, lethal vibration. "You heard Bruce, Steve. Penny should be dead. The only reason she's breathing is because of a lab accident and a spider bite. That monster will kill the next time he drugs someone. He'll kill a girl who isn't 'enhanced.' He'll keep going until someone stops him permanently."

"Bucky, please," Steve whispered, his voice full of a desperate kind of grief. "Don't make a choice you can't come back from. We have to do this the right way. We have to call the police. We have to preserve the evidence."

Bucky looked at Steve, the man who represented everything "right" in the world, and then he looked at the 16-year-old girl shivering on the couch in his jacket. Tony curled around her, Penny small against him, still fighting just to stay present.

"This is my choice, Steve," Bucky said. "I’ve spent a hundred years being a monster for people I hated. I think I’ve earned the right to be a monster for someone I love. I’m going to go take care of the thing that hurt her. And I’m not coming back until it’s done. I’m going to make sure he never touches anyone ever again."

Tony looked up from where he was still holding Penny’s hand. His eyes were bloodshot and dark with a matching, lethal fury. He didn't stop him. He couldn't.

Bucky walked back to the living room for one last second. He leaned down, his metal hand resting gently, barely touching, the top of Penny's head.

"Penny," he murmured. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for the only person who seemed to understand the silence. "You’re going to be okay. May is coming. I have to take care of something, but I’ll be back."

He didn't wait for her to answer. He turned and vanished into the night, the Winter Soldier emerging from the shadows to settle a debt that could only be paid in blood.

__________________________________________________________________

Morning came.

Not with sunlight, not really. The tower’s windows were still dimmed, the city beyond them a muted grey-blue as dawn struggled its way over Manhattan. The world was quieter in that strange, suspended way that only existed after something terrible had already happened.

Penny woke in pieces.

First, the feeling of weight, blankets tucked carefully around her, something warm and steady at her side. Then sound, low voices somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of machines that no longer felt threatening, just… there.

And then awareness.

Her body ached. Not sharp, not overwhelming, just a deep, bone-tired soreness that settled into everything. 

Her head throbbed dully, a slow, pulsing ache behind her eyes, like every heartbeat was knocking against her skull. Her mouth tasted wrong, stale and metallic, and her stomach rolled in warning the second she became fully conscious.

Her head felt clearer, though, fog burned off, thoughts no longer slipping through her fingers the second she reached for them.

Clarity didn’t help.
It made it worse.

Memory pressed at the edges, too close, too sharp, and her breath stuttered as her body reacted before her brain could catch up.

She shifted slightly.

Immediate regret.
The room tilted, just a fraction, enough to make her stomach lurch. She went still again, swallowing hard against the nausea.

“Hey, easy, easy.”

Tony.

His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, like he’d filed down every sharp edge he had just to speak to her.

She blinked, turning her head just enough to see him. Even that small movement made something behind her eyes spike. 

He was still in yesterday’s clothes, tuxedo shirt wrinkled, tie gone, sleeves rolled up unevenly.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. At all.

He was sitting right beside her on the bed.

Of course he was.

“Hi,” Penny rasped.

Her voice sounded wrecked. Dry, scraped raw, like she’d been crying for hours.

Tony’s face changed instantly. Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else might notice. But the tightness in his shoulders loosened just a fraction, something unclenching behind his eyes.

“Hey, kid,” he said quietly. “There you are.”

Her throat felt dry.  “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said. “Offensively early. The sun’s still negotiating.”

That almost got something like a breath of a laugh out of her.
Almost.

It caught halfway, twisting into a quiet, shaky exhale that made her wince slightly, like even that took too much out of her.

She swallowed, her fingers shifting slightly against the blanket. Even that felt uncoordinated, like her body was lagging behind her thoughts.

“Did…? Did…?”

Her voice faltered.

Tony didn’t make her finish.

“Yeah,” he said gently. “You had a rough night. Bruce got the IV working, flushed most of it out. You scared the hell out of all of us, just for the record.”

His tone was light, but his hand had already moved, resting carefully over hers, not gripping, just there.

Grounding.

He reached for the bedside table, grabbing a cup of water with a straw.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Let’s get you some water.”

He held it out to her.

Penny tried to take it.
Her hand shook immediately, fine tremors at first, then worse, her fingers not quite closing properly. The cup wobbled in her grip, sloshing slightly.

She made a small, frustrated sound, breath hitching.

Tony didn’t comment on it.

He just steadied the cup, his hand sliding over hers, taking most of the weight without taking it away from her entirely.

He guided the straw toward her.

Penny leaned forward slightly, too fast, her stomach flipped hard enough that she paused, eyes squeezing shut for a second as nausea surged.

“Easy,” Tony murmured immediately.

She tried again, slower this time, lips finding the straw.

She took a small sip, then another, but even that seemed to hit her system too fast. Her breath hitched, shoulders tightening as she swallowed hard against the urge to be sick.

Tony didn’t move the cup. Didn’t rush her.

“Nice and slow, Penn,” he said quietly.

She nodded faintly and took one more careful sip before pulling back, breathing a little unevenly. Her hand was still trembling where it rested against his.

He set the cup down gently.

“Okay?” he asked.

Penny nodded, but it was weak. Unsteady.

Her head tipped back against the pillow like even holding it up was too much effort.

His hand returned to hers like it had never left.

Penny stared at their hands for a second.

“Dr. Cho came and you had an exam. May was with you. She helped you shower."

“I remember some of it. Some of…the party.”

The word hit wrong.

Her face tightened, her stomach turning again as flashes, too quick, too incomplete, flickered behind her eyes. She looked down hard at the blanket, like she could shut it out if she didn’t look at him.

Tony didn’t rush to fill the silence.

Her fingers tightened slightly under his.

“I said something,” she murmured. “Last night.”

Tony’s jaw shifted, just slightly. “You said a lot of things. You wanna narrow it down for me?”

Her eyes flickered up to his.

“I said I was stupid.”

There it was.

Tony didn’t hesitate.

“Nope,” he said immediately. Calm. Certain. “Still not true. Didn’t magically become true overnight.”

Penny huffed a small, shaky breath.

It broke at the end, her composure slipping just a little more as her voice wavered.

“Tony-”

“No,” he cut in, softer now, but just as firm. He leaned forward slightly. “We already had this conversation. I’m not letting you renegotiate it just because you’re more awake.”

Her gaze dropped again.

“You trusted someone who didn’t deserve it,” he continued. “That’s on him. Not you. It was his choice. His actions. His fault.”

Each word was steady. Deliberate.

“You don’t carry that for him.”

Penny swallowed hard.

Her stomach turned again, sharp and sudden, and she sucked in a small breath through her nose, trying to steady it. Her free hand curled into the blanket, gripping tight like she needed something solid to keep from drifting.

“I should’ve…”

“Hey.” Softer now.

She looked back up.

“You don’t have to build a version of this where you could’ve stopped it,” he said quietly. “That’s not how this works. You didn’t fail some test. There wasn’t a right answer you missed.”

Her eyes burned.

This time, the tears didn’t hesitate. They slipped out slow and steady, her face tightening like she hated that they were happening at all.

“I…” Penny’s voice caught, her breath hitching unevenly. “I’d never… I’d never been to a party like that before.”

The words came out in pieces, like she had to drag each one up through something heavy.

“I lost MJ and Ned,” she went on, quicker now, like if she didn’t say it fast it wouldn’t come out at all. “It was crowded and loud and I..I thought they were right behind me and then they weren’t and I didn’t want to make it a big deal and-”

Her breathing stuttered.

“And he was just there,” she whispered, her face tightening. “He was nice. He asked if I was okay and I didn’t feel good and I just-”

Her hand curled tighter into the blanket, knuckles going pale.

“I know you’re not supposed to take drinks from people,” she rushed, the words breaking over each other now. “I know that, I do, they tell you that all the time, in school and online and everywhere, I just…I didn’t think, I didn’t…”

Her voice cracked completely.

“I just thought he was being nice.”

The last word fell apart in her mouth.

Tony didn’t let the silence stretch this time.

“No,” he said, firm but gentle, immediately cutting through the spiral.

Her eyes flicked up to his, glassy and overwhelmed.

“You were overwhelmed,” Tony said. “You got separated from your friends, you didn’t feel well, and someone stepped in and acted like a decent human being.”

His jaw tightened slightly, just for a second.

Penny’s breathing hitched again, but she didn’t look away.

“You are allowed to believe people are being nice,” Tony added, quieter now. “That’s not a flaw. That’s not something you’re supposed to lose.”

Her shoulders trembled slightly.

“He’s the one who broke the rules,” Tony said. “Not you.”

“You hear me?”

A beat.

Then a small nod.

Tony exhaled slowly.

“Good,” he murmured. “We’re sticking with that version. That’s the only one that exists.”

There was a soft knock at the door.

Neither of them moved right away.

Then it opened just slightly.

May.

Her eyes went immediately to Penny, and whatever she’d been holding together cracked, not loudly, not dramatically, but enough. She crossed the room quickly, sitting on the other side of the bed, her hand finding Penny’s hair, brushing it back with a gentleness that felt almost fragile.

“Hey, baby,” May whispered.

Penny’s composure broke a little at that.

Her face crumpled before she could stop it, breath hitching sharply.

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, like she needed to say it first.

It came out too fast. Too thin. Like she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

May nodded, even as her eyes filled. 

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Penny’s forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

Tony shifted slightly, giving them space.

A few minutes later, there was another figure in the doorway.

Bucky.

He didn’t step in right away. Just leaned lightly against the frame, like he was checking the temperature of the room before entering it.

Penny noticed him first.

Her fingers stilled slightly in the blanket.

“Hey,” she said, voice still rough but clearer now.

Bucky’s expression softened, subtle, but real. And something about him was… different.
Lighter.

Not happy. Not even close.

But the sharp, coiled edge he’d carried the night before was gone.

“Hey, doll,” he said quietly.

He stepped into the room then, slow, deliberate, giving her time to track the movement.

“How you feeling?”

She thought about it.

“Not great,” she admitted.

Bucky nodded once. “Yeah. That tracks.”

A small pause.

Then, softer, “You did good last night.”

Penny frowned slightly. “I didn’t do anything.”

Bucky shook his head.

“You called.”

She didn’t argue with him.

Tony watched the exchange, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he stood slowly, careful not to jostle the bed.

“Hey, Barnes,” he said quietly. “Walk with me a second?”

Bucky glanced at Penny, then back at Tony, understanding immediately.

“Yeah,” he said.

They stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then-

Tony’s voice, low. Controlled.

Tony’s voice was low, controlled, barely a vibration in the quiet hallway.

“Is it done?”

Bucky met his gaze. There was no hesitation. No dramatics. Just a single, steady nod that carried the weight of a hundred years of soldiering.

"He had her school ID," Bucky said, his voice a flat, dead calm that was somehow more terrifying than anger. "Tucked in his wallet like a trophy. Along with four others. Different girls, different schools. He was a collector, Tony."

Tony’s breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that felt like a blade in his lungs. "Five," he whispered, the number tasting like ash. "God, Penny was number five."

Bucky’s eyes stayed hard, fixed on a point somewhere over Tony’s shoulder. "I looked them up. The names on those IDs."

He paused, the silence in the hallway stretching until it felt brittle.

"One of them took her own life six months ago," Bucky murmured, his metal hand clenching into a slow, mechanical fist. "Two of them never even made it that far. They died that night, overdose from the same sedative Bruce found in Penny. Their families think it was just a party gone wrong. They think their daughters were 'reckless.' Three girls dead before their eighteenth birthday. Penny should have been the fourth."

Tony closed his eyes for half a second. It wasn't relief. It wasn't satisfaction. It was a dark, cold acknowledgement that the world was slightly less crowded with monsters than it had been at midnight.

“And the fourth victim?” Tony asked, his voice barely audible.

“Carlie,” Bucky said, the name sounding heavy in the quiet hallway. “Carlie Cooper. She’s a senior over at Midtown’s rival academy. She’s still out there, Tony, but she’s been living in a cage of her own skin for god knows how long. She was the captain of the field hockey team, all-state, Ivy League scouts on her tail, and then she just quit.”

Tony felt a wave of nausea roll through him. Carlie had survived the night, but it sounded like she hadn't survived much else.

“I’m going to go find her. I’m going to tell her that Skip isn’t a problem anymore. She deserves to sleep through the night.”

Tony’s hand found the cold marble of the wall, steadying himself. “Barnes, get me her address. Or her parents' names. I’ll set up an anonymous trust. I’ll find a way to get her into the best trauma specialists in the country without it ever tracing back to us. She’s clearly struggling, I’m going to make sure she has every tool she needs to come back to life."

Bucky nodded. 

Tony nodded back, once. A silent pact between two men who had seen too much. 

Tony looked at the door to Penny’s room, then back at Bucky. He saw the man who had been a ghost for seventy years finally choosing which ghosts he was willing to carry. 

Bucky walked away, his steps silent on the marble, disappearing into the shadows of the tower. 

Tony took a long, shaking breath, straightened his wrinkled tuxedo shirt, and went back inside to Penny and May.

The room was quieter when he stepped back in.

May was sitting close, one hand still in Penny’s hair, the other wrapped around her hand.

Penny looked… smaller.

The harshness of the night had softened into something more fragile, more visible. The bruises along her cheekbone and arms had begun to fade at the edges, the deep purples dulling into sickly yellow and green, but they still marred her skin, still told the story her memory kept trying to fracture and blur.

Her eyes lifted when Tony came back in.

“Hey,” he said softly, moving back to her side.

She nodded faintly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

And then…

Her breath hitched.

Once.

Twice.

And something in her finally gave.

“I don’t…” she started, but the words collapsed almost immediately.

Her grip tightened in May’s hand, hard enough to tremble.

“I don’t feel right,” she whispered, panic threading through the edges now. “I don’t feel like me. I…” Her voice broke, sharper this time. “I can’t… I can’t put it back. It’s all…wrong.”

May’s hand tightened in her hair instantly. “Hey, hey, it’s okay….”

But Penny shook her head weakly, more frantic than before.

“No, it’s not…” she choked out. “It’s not, I...I can’t remember all of it and I don’t want to but I do because what if I missed something and…”

Her breathing started to spiral, uneven and shallow.

Tony was beside her immediately, one hand grounding against her shoulder.

“Penn…”

“I just…” her voice dropped, barely there now. “I just want it to stop feeling like this.”

Tony’s hand softened where it held her.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know, kid.”

Her face crumpled then, whatever thin control she’d been holding finally slipping. She leaned sideways into May, shoulders shaking, the kind of quiet, broken crying that didn’t fight to be heard anymore.

May pulled her in immediately, holding her tight.

Tony stayed right there, one hand still steady on her shoulder, the other coming up to gently cradle the back of her head.

“It’s not going to feel like this forever,” Tony murmured, not loudly, not forcefully, just something steady to hold onto. “I promise you that.”

There would be night terrors and therapy. There would be tears that felt like they would never stop and the slow, agonizing process of un-learning the self-blame.

But there would be no trial. No defense attorneys picking apart her character. No "character witnesses" explaining why a college student with a bright future deserved a second chance. No making her look into the eyes of the man who had tried to extinguish her light.

Tony gently told her that Skip was gone, that he would never, ever be able to hurt her or anyone else again. Penny didn’t press for details. She just leaned her head against May’s shoulder and let out a breath she’d been holding since 42nd and Oak.

Penny would be okay. 

Not that day, or the next. 

But she was home, she was loved, and she was going to make it.