Peter walked into the Medbay quietly. "Hey, Doctor Strange sir, is it okay if I lie down in here? The party is way too loud from my room."

The wizard looked up from where he was reading a mystical text. "Of course, Pete, what's up?"

"My head hurts." Peter was keeping the agreement between him and Mr. Stark, where he had to tell Bruce or Stephen anytime he felt sick. "And I just generally feel...weird."

The wizard suddenly teleported over to where Peter was and put a hand on his forehead.
"You're burning up. You need to take off those layers you have."

"I'm cold."

"Your body is playing tricks on you. Take off the sweats, you'll feel better, I promise. Lie down over there, I'll be over in one second to have a look." Peter did as he was told, and removed the sweats before flopping down onto the bed on his side. He wrapped his arms around himself. He was still so cold. When he heard Dr. Strange come near, he flipped over to his back and looked up at the wizard.
Strange unlooped his stethoscope from around his neck and put in his ears. Peter flinched a bit when the cold metal was placed on his chest.

"Breathe in." Strange repeated this process several times, but when he placed it on Peter's lower stomach, Peter pushed it away.

"Don't. That feels really weird."

"Weird in what way?" Strange removed the stethoscope and touched it with his fingers instead.

"It tingles. It feels like there's pins and needles all over the lower half of my body."

"Hmm." Strange looked at Peter. "Let's figure out your other symptoms. You already said you have a headache, are you dizzy or nauseous?"

"Dizzy yes, nauseous, I don't think so?"

Strange gave him a worried look. He took a thermometer and put it in Peter's mouth. "Your fevers pretty bad, too. What do you think caused this?"

"I don't know."

"Did you get hit by anything when you were on patrol?"

"Maybe? I don't really remember."

Stephen ticked off Peter's symptoms on his fingers. "So you're dizzy, feverish, have a bad headache, and can't feel the lower half of your body?"

Peter nodded. "You can't feel this at all?" Strange asked, gently running his hands down Peter's legs. Peter shook his head. He couldn't feel anything. Strange pressed harder. "You still can't feel this?"

"No?" Peter said in a small voice.

"Where can you feel?" Stephen placed his hand on Peter's abdomen and gently pressed, moving upward every few seconds. Once he got to Peter's ribs, Peter suddenly moved.

"I felt that. That still tingles."

"Okay, Pete. I think you've been poisoned, and it's slowly impeding your body movement. I need to take a blood sample to find out for sure."

Peter started shaking as soon as he heard the words 'blood sample.' He hated needles. Hated them.

Strange saw him shaking and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay. I'll be gentle, I promise. Just focus on me. Can you tell me what the third root of 792 is? Take that and add it to 43, then divide that by 4 and multiply that by 6.5. What's the answer?"

Peter screwed up his eyes in concentration. "Uh...85? Give or take?"

Dr. Strange laughed. "I have no idea. I just wanted to distract you, and see, it worked!" He held up a syringe full of blood triumphantly.

Peter blinked. Wow, Stephen really was good, he hadn't even noticed the prick of the needle in his arm.

"I'm going to run this. Try to relax, okay? Sleep will help you more than anything else. Once I get conclusive answers, I'll work on getting you the treatment you need."

The doctor stepped away to the other side of the medical facility. Peter shut his eyes and tried to sleep, but his worried thoughts made sleep impossible. "Doctor Strange?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah Pete? I've told you you can just call me Stephen."

"Stephen, do you think I'm going to die?" Peter barely even voiced the words, as if speaking the would make them real.

The doctor moved away from the lab results and sat on the bed next to Peter. He gently brushed the sweaty curls away from the boys forehead in a comforting motion. "No. I'm not going to let that happen, I promise you. I'm sure your speed healing is already pushing the poison out of your body and you'll be back to your crazy self before long. Besides, I don't think Tony would let you die. He would march right up to the pearly gates and cuss poor Saint Peter out until he let you go."

Peter laughed at that image, but when the laugh turned into a racking cough he stopped. After the coughing fit stopped and Peter was finally able to speak again, he asked, "What makes you so sure I'm going to heaven?"

"Pete, your goodness makes even me and Tony believe there's someone up there. You're going to heaven, trust me."

"Okay." Reassured, Peter closed his eyes again.
But then he remembered something else and spoke again. "Does Tony know yet?"

"No. He needs this party. I've set FRIDAY to alert him after the party is over and he has had 5 hours of sleep. If he was here, he'd be freaking out too much for me to get anything done."

"That's probably a good plan," Peter admitted, even though he was torn between wanting Mr. Stark there with him and wanting his mentor to get his needed sleep. The second one won out, because he really didn't feel like putting Tony through more stress than he already had. Besides, this party was really important, with lots of prominent people that could make Stark Industries the most powerful company in the world. Tony would be in tomorrow, he knew. "Goodnight Doc—I mean Stephen."

"Goodnight, Pete. I'll wake you if I find anything." And Pete was finally able to sleep.