Kraven's heart stopped as for one unbearable second he thought he had taken too long and the boy had died right there on the carpet in front of him. Adrenaline crashed through the man in a sudden panic and he urgently grabbed the youth by his uninjured shoulder, calling out to him, desperately trying to get him to wake up. Then, as quickly as it had come upon him, the irrational panic ebbed again as the kid groaned and shifted in an unconscious attempt to get away from the annoyance that was bothering his rest.

The Russian froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared in shock at the brunet's motion then he sat back on his haunches with a tight sigh, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. The corner of his mouth dipped down in a slight frown as he realized his hands were shaking slightly from the spent adrenaline and nerves and he forced himself to close his eyes and sit still for a second as he tried to relax and reground himself. He hadn't realized dealing with the teen had amped him up so much, but, he had to admit, for a second there... just for a second he had honestly believed with every fiber of his being that the boy had died and he didn't know how he could have lived with himself if that had been true. He felt like he had lost a decade off his life in those tense moments, but now that wasn't the main issue. He had to get back to the matter at hand or the kid might really go and die on him. He couldn't have that. Calypso would kill him... if his own guilt didn't do him in first.

Letting a tense breath hiss out between his teeth, the man opened his eyes again and refocused on the boy lying before him. The teen was obviously still responsive so Kraven wasn't sure if the brunet had truly fainted from blood loss or if his drained body had simply forced a shutdown in an attempt to recover. Either way the man was torn between letting the kid rest and the worry that extended sleeping while concussed would make the teen fall into a coma. Still the Russian thought he could at least let the exhausted child sleep for a few hours, and, in the mean time, it would be easier to rebandaged his wounds while he was unconscious and unable to be difficult.

With that thought in mind, Kraven leaned forward and gently scooped the child, blankets and all, up into his arm, positioning himself carefully so he didn't jostle the boy's injured shoulder. He felt the teen shift against him with a soft moan as he lifted the youths body in his arms and he froze, his sharp eyes watching the boy for any signs of discomfort, but then the kid just let out a deep sigh and seemed to snuggled against the Russian's warm chest in his unconsciousness.

Kraven's face softened at the teens actions and he found himself wishing he could somehow dispel to childs fear of him, but that would have to be an issue for another time. For now he just needed to check the kid's wounds, rebadged him and figure out how he might be able to get some food and water into the teen when he woke again. Easy as cake right? Kraven sighed at the impossibility of his situation and hoped that Calypso would come home soon, knowing she would know what to do even as he was at a loss.

A small absent smile lit the man's features at the thought of his love, then, cradling the brunet's body close in his arm, he stood and moved back towards the bed, his mind focused on the task at hand.

/\/\/\/\/\

Peter's consciousness flickered in the grey place in-between sleep and wakefulness where he was almost aware, he could almost think... But every thought that manifested in his mind was immediately snatched away from him only to be replaced by another, completely unrelated thought that would too be gone an instant later, lost in the swirling fog that seemed to surround him in that place that held with no sound or sight or feel within it.

The cycle repeated on and on, the teen unable to hold onto a single thought though he grasped desperately at them as they danced tauntingly by. Peter felt like he should be mad or at least annoyed by the endless flicker of awareness that wouldn't let him rest in peace, but also refused to accomplish anything useful either; however he couldn't quite bring himself to care. He had a nagging, restless and faintly anxious sense that he should be... be... concerned/nervous/scared/PAIN/danger?/DANGER!

The sudden flash of emotions pounded through Peter in one instant, overwhelming the boy's senses and jerking him roughly closer to consciousness. The boy gasped as a hot yet cold shiver shuddered through his body in response to the sudden adrenaline surging through him; but the sense of danger had disappeared as quickly as all the other thoughts that had passed through him, scattering away as if on an invisible wind. But now... now he could think. He didn't know why, but he could if he really tried. Still it was hard and he was so tired. He didn't want to struggled any more, but then why had he been scared a second before? It was so strange; it was almost as if his subconscious was trying to force him to wake, but he couldn't remember why... So it couldn't really matter, right?

The boy relaxed back with a sigh, reveling in the soft, fluffy warmth that seemed to surround him. It felt so nice, almost like he was lying on a cloud. Even his pain seemed to dissipate until it had almost disappeared. He could still feel it on the peripheries, waiting to make him suffer again later, but not right now. Right now there was just relief. Marvelous relief. He sighed again, feeling all the tension run out of his muscles. He had every intention of falling asleep, but then something... He was suddenly aware of something brushing over his right shoulder...?

Peter froze, tension snapping back into his body as his breath caught in his throat. The touch on his shoulder came again, soft, cool and slightly damp. He had to struggle not to flinch away. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't... but someone was in the room with him. Someone-

A fresh flash of fear jerked Peter back to full consciousness with a gasp and his eyes instantly flickered open. Disoriented the teen's gaze darted around his surroundings; he was lying in a bed, staring up at the ceiling and... and there was the bad man. The teens eyes locked on the stranger sitting in the chair beside the bed within which Peter lay. The hunter was turned away with his back to the youth and didn't seem to be aware that he had woken yet, but it was only a matter of time.

The teen swallowed hard, dimly aware that his dry throat burned with the action, but he didn't pay it any heed. Every iota of his attention was focused on the dangerous man. His mind screamed at him to run. To flee this person who had hurt him before, but he couldn't. He wanted to run, to at least get farther away from the stranger, but he just couldn't seem to move.

Then the dark man started to turn back to him. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in fear and his body tensing almost painfully as the hunter twisted in the chair. For a second time seemed to slow as Peter's thoughts raced frantically. The bad man was going to see him. He would see Peter was awake. Would- The man would- He had to move. He couldn't, but he had to move. Now! Move NOW!

/\/\/\/\

THUMP!

Startled by the heavy noise, Kraven nearly jumped out of his skin and in the process almost dropped the delicate ceramic jar in his hands. Somehow he managed a fumbling recovery at the last second, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the precious item before he whirled to face the origin of the sound. The man's eyes widened in disbelief as he caught sight of the boy sitting up with his back pressed hard against the headboard of the bed, his head low and his weary brown eyes staring accusingly at the Russian.

"You're awake!"

The absurdly obvious statement escaped Sergei's lips before he could stop himself; but, in all fairness, it was practically impossible for the boy to be awake so soon. The kid had all but bled out and at the very least should have slept for hours if not longer to recover. However, disregarding the normal laws of the universe, the boy was up and, ignoring the pale pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes, he did not looking half as bad as he should have under such conditions.

Relief flooded through the Kraven at the sight of the woken teen, but he also had a distinct impression that the boys consciousness was going to cause problems. He had just finished cleaning the youth's shoulder wound (the cut on his side had somehow inexplicably disappeared) and had been mixing the antitoxic poultice for the boy, but now he had a feeling he would be lucky if he got the youth's wound simply bandaged let alone properly tended to. The look the kid was giving him was pretty far from anything compliant, but at least the brunet wasn't trying to hide under the bed again.

Sergei cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing with concern as he studied the teen more closely. The boy just sat there silently , staring back at him, but the man could see the kid was already panting lightly, rather flushed and slightly shaking, although the Russian could not tell if the last was caused by fear, exhaustion, pain or a combination of the three.

Worried that the flush might be the symptom of a fever, the man automatically leaned forward, wanting to test the temperature of the teen's forehead, but as his hand reached out the boy shrunk away, his lips curling back with a warning snarl that escaped from bared teeth. Peter felt the growl rumble from deep within his chest and, under normal circumstances, would have thought he was being absurd - acting like a mad dog or something - but these were far from normal circumstances. He didn't know where he was and what the hell was going on, but he was completely certain he didn't want this dangerous man any close then he had to be.

Kraven froze at the sound of the boy's warning snarl. He might not have been very good among polite human society, but it was hard to misinterpret the boy's primal action. It was a scared reaction, but also one that promised violence if the youth was pushed too far. Kraven could respect that, even admire the brunet's bravery in the face of his certain fear, but the man had no wish for the violence the teens glare and tense posture promised so he pulled his hand back with an apologetic smile, twisting his wrist so his palm was up, turning the motion into a peaceful gesture.

"Easy child. You are in no danger here. I just wanted to check your temperature," the man said gently as he settled back into the chair and set the ceramic jar and the precious antitoxin it held within it on the bedside table beside him, but the youth didn't seem to notice his words. Instead the boy just stared at the hunter's proffered hand, his own hands clutching the rich, heavy blankets to his chest. Then, in a flurry of nervous motion, the youth's eyes darted to the wall of windows to his right then to the door behind Sergei, obviously searching for a possible exit, before the boy's gaze jerked back to the man himself.

"Where am I? Where-" The boy's disoriented demand was cut off as he tried to sit up a bit straighter then flinched as his wounded shoulder obviously gave him a painful reminder of it's presence. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden stab of pain before his left hand closed over the injury and he gritted his teeth, a low moan escaping him.

"Careful!" Kraven was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, his mind singularly focused on the desperate knowledge that the boy could not afford to open that wound again. Not if he wanted to live. The hunter found himself again automatically reaching forward, this time to check to see if the teen's bleeding had started again, then he remembered himself as the boy's eyes widened fearfully at the sight of him looming over the bed and the youth jerked away from his touch with a strangled cry.

Kicking himself for his thoughtless action, Sergei backed off immediately, sitting back in the chair with both hands up and palms out in surrender. "Just... careful, okay?" he said a bit sheepishly, his brow's drawing together with concern even though he could not see nor scent any fresh blood. "You don't want to open that wound again."

A long moment passed and the boy just continued to stare at him with wide fearful eyes. For a couple gut-wrenching heartbeats Kraven thought he had screwed everything up again, that the boy was going to make another run for it, get hurt again and that would be that; but then the teen's body gave a great shudder and he sighed, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around himself as the tension that had been trapped within his body eased out of his overworked muscles.

Suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath; Kraven echoed the teen's sigh with one of his own; the soft sound making the boy glance up through his disheveled hair, sharp eyes glaring wearily at the man sitting bare feet from him.

Kraven tried to smile reassuringly, but didn't get much of a response. The boy just blinked at him and continued to stare through his bangs.

Shifting uncomfortably in the awkward silence, the Russian decided to switch tactics. "Will you let me finished bandaging that?" he asked hopefully, nodding vaguely to the boy's shoulder as he said the words, thinking that asking for permission might get a better response from the teen.

But silence was all that he received.

Kraven sighed tiredly, running a hand up over his face and through his hair as the spark of hope that had lit within him flickered and died under the brunet's continued glare. He mentally cursed himself for being right, but there was no doubt about it now: having the boy conscious was going to be an inexorable pain in the butt. And the truth of the matter was it was all his fault. Under the circumstances, the teens fear and distrust were only natural. No sane person would not be scared of someone who had stalked and stabbed them. But all that had been a mistake. A horrible mistake. Kraven wished he could make the boy understand that, but even if he couldn't, even if the child never stopped fearing him, it was his duty to tend to the injuries he had inflicted on the boy. He just wished he could find some way to do that without traumatizing the brunet further.

Gathering himself for another hopeless attempt to reason with the child, the Russian looked up again then he blinked, startled, as he realized the boy's attention had shifted away from him and... Kraven fallowed the teen's gaze, his own eyes settling on the ceramic bowl, bloody cotton balls, bandages and other miscellaneous medical supplies scattered upon the bedside table. Interesting...The big man raised his head to look back at the boy. The youth's eyes had narrowed and his brow was furrowed in thought; Kraven could practically see the teen's mind trying to work through some problem. He started to open his mouth to speak, but just then the brunet decided to break the silence himself.

"What's that?"

"Uh..." the hunter said dumbly, caught off-guard by the youths unexpected words and feeling suddenly pinned under the teens gaze as it flicked up to lock onto him again, waiting and expectant. Kraven glanced back at the pile of medical supplies, but then looked back at the boy, his brow knitting together in confusion, unsure of what the boy was talking about. "What's what?"

"That," the boy said, his eyes jerking meaningfully down to the ceramic jar on the bedside table before flicking back up to the man again. "What is it?"

A small breath of relief escaped the man as the teen responded to his question. It seemed as if the child was at least coherent and would stay relatively calm as long as he didn't get too close, which was a start. Maybe they could get somewhere after all...

"This?" the man asked, picking up the ceramic jar to confirm the item of the boy's curiosity.

The kid's jaw tightened visibly at the man's action and he gave a jerky nod, his eyes glued to the small item.

Kraven smiled gently, trying to relieve some of the boy's obvious tension and tipped the delicate ceramic forward in his hands so the boy could see the dark gooey contents within. "It's a poultice," he said softly, not wanting to accidentally spook the child again. "I'm assuming that is what you are asking."

"Is that what you put on me before?" the teen demanded, his sharp hazel eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence, but even so the man could still see pain, fatigue and distrust deep within them.

"Yes," Kraven answered carefully and clearly, hoping to gain a bit of trust from the child. "To help you heal."

The man barely finished his sentence before the boy's hand shot out. "Let me see."

The Russian blinked, surprised by the strength in the teen's voice. His words were obviously not a request, but the hunter still hesitated, unsure of what would happen if he gave the boy what he wanted, but also absolutely certain the teen would react negatively if he was denied.

The man sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with the impossible situation, but then he gave in and handed the object over to the youth's waiting hand. He half expected the boy to immediately shatter the jar on the floor or throw it against a wall, but instead the teen just studied it carefully, then lifted it to take a cautious sniff at it's contents.

Kraven opened his mouth to warn the boy, but it was already too late. The teen winced and then sneezed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "God. It smells awful," he said, rubbing an arm under his nose as if he could ward off the poultices scent. "What's it made of?"

"I could list the ingredients, but you would not know them," the Sergei said with an apologetic smile, honestly surprised the teen was being so talkative, albeit in short spurts.

The boy frowned at the man's words and turned his dark glare on Kraven again.

"They are very rare, boy," the Russian said, trying to appease the child, but the youth's frown just deepened into a scowl.

"If they are so rare, how did you get them?" the teen snapped, frustrated by the man's evasions. Why did this bastard have to make everything a riddle?!

"I did not," Sergei said calmly, forcing himself to answer the brunet's questions even though he knew he should have been focusing on caring for the kid's injury instead. There was a chance, albeit a slight one, that the child would allow him to help if he satisfied the teens question so he continued to answer and tried not to think of the youths bare wound that needed attention. "Calypso made it for you."

A sudden wash of excitement flooded through Peter's blood at the simple sound of the strange woman's name and the thoughts of her that it provoked. The teen felt his cheeks warm and he looked down, embarrassed by the nonsensical reaction. Hurriedly, he tried to quash the growing elation within him. He didn't have time to act like a moon-struck floosy, but even so the feelings resist him, defiantly settled into a warm flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Peter mentally grimaced, trying to shake off the giddy thrill singing within him, and eyed the jar in his hands warily. After a moment he looked back up to consider the man again. "You say this stuff will help my shoulder?"

"Yes," Kraven said, hoping a simple answer would be more persuasive than a long, complicated explanation, but the boy looked thoroughly unconvinced and underwhelmed.

"It has before," the man continued with just a touch of desperation in his voice. It would be so much better in all respects if he could somehow convince the teen to use the salve. He opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but then shut it again, doubting that anything else he could say could truly sway the teen's one way or another.

Peter grunted noncommittally at the man's words, his thoughts already elsewhere at the stared at the ceramic pot in his hands. Despite the dull headache that had settled between his temples, he mentally directed his senses, searching for any hint of danger, but could feel nothing threatening connected to the salve. If it could truly help...

Seeing that the teen was teetering on the edge of an decision, Kraven watched the boy silently, unwilling to break into the youths thoughts. Then, to the man's astonishment, the boy dipped a hand into the concoction, rubbing his the thick gooey substance between his fingers experimentally before lifting them to smeared a dab cautiously over his injured shoulder.

Peter winced, mentally cringing as the cold salve touched his skin, but he continued to spread it over the edge of his wound, waiting to see if there would be a negative reaction before committing himself fully to using the poultice.

"It may sting," Kraven said hurriedly, getting his voice back after the initial shock of the teen's actions.

"I remember," the boy said bitterly, idly mixing the salve with a finger as he waited to see if there would be any ill effect.

Kraven lips flashed in a apologetic smile. "I'm sure you do," he said a bit sheepishly, remembering how adverse the teen's initial reaction had been to his 'treatment.' The man suddenly found himself wondering what the boy actually remembered from the night before. The youth had been pretty out of it by the time Sergei had caught up with him. The hunter winced mentally at the memory, finding himself grateful that the brunet was calm enough now to talk. It was obvious the teen was still nervous around him, but at least the boy finally seemed to be willing to do something more then run. Honestly, it was incredible he had recovered so much in such a short time. He had been unconscious for less than an hour, but it seemed to have helped immensely.

Peter in turn gave the man a sour glare at his words. The boy was extremely reluctant to trust this dark stranger. Who wouldn't be after being beaten and stabbed? But, truth be told, nothing detrimental had been caused by the salve thus far so maybe the man really was telling the truth. Or maybe it was simply smelly useless goo that wouldn't harm or help him. Still, even if that were the case, it wouldn't do any damage if he used it either and maybe... Maybe it really would help...

Sighing, the teen scooped up another glob of the poultice out of the jar and applied it generously to his wounded shoulder. With the injurys position, he couldn't really get a good look at it, but he could feel the inflamed skin around the wound and he had to struggle not to flinch when he accidentally pressed down too hard on a sore spot. The injury was obviously irritated and tender to the touch and its location definitely wasn't ideal. He grimaced slightly as he gently probed the edges of the wound, trying to figure out its exact position. It seemed as if the knife had stabbed through the muscle below his right shoulder joint and a couple inches left of his armpit. As Peter's mind catalogued that knowledge, he realized how lucky he had been that the knife hadn't hit bone and even luckier that it had not sliced through a major blood vessel, knowing there was a cluster of them right around the neck and shoulder area. He had been really lucky so far, if one could called not dying from a stab wound lucky. It would have been better not to be stabbed at all, but that didn't matter anymore. It was in the past and there was nothing that could be done to change it. What truly mattered now was if he was still in danger or not.

Peter's eyes slid wearily back to the dark man seated beside the bed then he started, feeling a gentle tingling spread over his shoulder as the salve warmed with his body heat, numbing the pain. The teen's brow knitted in confusion as he realized the concoction didn't burn as it had done before. The man had said it was the same poultice, but then why...?

"It doesn't hurt."

Kraven smiled slightly at the surprised tone of the boy's words. "You're wound has closed child. The poultice wouldn't have stung as badly as it did before." The man sat back in the chair, his arm crossing over his chest as he studied the teen critically. "Honestly I have no idea how it has heal so fast," he added after a moment with a shake of his head. "You were bleeding like a stuck pig just a bit ago."

Peter grunted, but didn't offer any further information even though the man was clearly curious. Instead the brunet turned his attention back to his injury, experimentally curling his right hand into a fist then flexing and extending his arm, testing for pain. Luckily there was none. In fact the only thing the teen felt was the warm tingling of the salve. Obviously the goop was doing something although he had no clue exactly what. He only hoped his senses would have warned him if it was something dangerous.

Lost in thought, the teen found himself staring numbly at his hand and blinked. He looked hurriedly back up, but the man hadn't moved. He was just sitting there watching Peter and the boy couldn't help but notice the lines of worry around his eyes. Maybe the youth was just imagining it but...

Peter sighed and shook away the stray thoughts; his head hurt too much for all this crap. What he really needed was more sleep, but now that he was awake he felt somehow too tired for sleep (not that he would ever willingly sleep in this man's presence). He was too tired to even be scared anymore. He just felt wrung out and... and numb. It almost felt like he was disconnected from the rest of the world and was just going through the motions of living. Even stranger, he felt detached from his own body as if he were somehow viewing himself from afar and nothing really mattered anymore...

Maybe I'm in shock, the brunet wondered wearily. He had read about physical and emotional shock caused by trauma on the internet, but he had never really felt like this before. Sure he had felt pain and had even almost died once before, but it had never been like this. The overpowering elation he had experienced earlier when the woman's name was spoken simply underscored how dead he felt inside now. Almost cold. Everything seemed so unreal; like it was all happening to someone else. Here he was sitting in a plush penthouse that would have cost a fortune in New York with this man-

Was he even still in New York? a corner of Peter's mind suddenly wondered. He cocked his head to the side, considering the windows. The view certainly looked like it could be New York, but it was hard to tell without closer inspection. Of course it could be a trick. The view could be faked, but... Hmmm. The teen narrowed his eyes in thought. His blood was still on the windows, brilliant red splashed against the backdrop of a clear, sunny day. He knew he should have felt something at the sight, but he just didn't. He knew he should. Hell he was injured, in a strange place and at the mercy of a stranger who had fucking stabbed him; he should be feeling a lot. All of this should have at least bothered him, but for some reason it didn't. Not really. He knew that wasn't right, but-

Movement in his peripheral vision startled Peter out of his numb thoughts and he looked around, his eyes falling back to the man sitting beside him.

The man's eyes twitched down to the medical supplies in his hands, then back up at the boy with a nervous look. "Uh... will you let me..." he said, holding up the items, which included a roll of bandages, some medical tape and a gauze pad. It was obvious the stranger wanted to bind Peter's wound.

The youth scowled half-heartedly at the man's suggestion, but he couldn't bring himself to put much feeling behind the expression. The boy was rather confused about his own apathetic feelings. He should have been scared or at the very least worried, but he wasn't. In fact, couldn't remember another time when he so absolutely just didn't care. All things told, it was almost a relief, but it was also a troublesome development. He never 'just didn't care.' It wasn't him. So why... why did he feel so empty?

The boy looked on with hollow eyes as the man's shoulder's sagged with a sigh. "Will you at least bandage yourself?" the hunter said resignedly.

Peter glanced blankly down at supplies sitting engulfed in the dark man's large palms.

"Please boy," the Russian entreated and lifted his hand a little, his eyes pleading.

The youth's gaze shifted back to the dark man, his eyes searching for any sign of a trick or ill will, but there was none. Even his dormant sense stayed quiet, refusing to mark the stranger as a threat, but even so Peter hesitated. He knew the man was dangerous, the stab wound in his shoulder attested to that, so why? What game was this... this hunter playing at?

The boy frowned, but then relented, delicately plucking the medical supplies from the man's hand. He half expected the man to make a grab for him, but the stranger just sat back again, his eyes watching expectantly.

With another sullen frown the teen sat up a bit straighter and set to work. He didn't trust the dangerous man, but that was no reason to neglect a wound if the opportunity arose to tend to it. With deft fingers the boy gently taped the gaze pad over his injury then began binding his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the bandage roll had the audacity to run out of length behind Peter's back. The boy twisted, raising his arms in an attempt to properly tuck away the loose end then winced as the position invariably pulled at his wound. A hiss of pain escaped him and he lowered his arms, waiting for the throbbing in his shoulder to ease before trying again, but a gentle touch on his arm distracted him.

Peter flinched away from the contact, his head whipping around to stare at the bad man over his shoulder, pinning the hunter with an icy glare.

Kraven met the boys cold eyes with a tired smile, his own reserves nearing depletion as caring for the boy exhausted him emotionally. Physically he could stay awake for days hunting pray or caring for a wounded animal, but he had never had to tend to a human before and was quickly finding it was quite a grueling prospect. The fact that the boy feared and distrusted him (albeit with good reason) didn't help. Still he had every intention of doing right by the child. He owed the kid that much. "Can I finish that for you?" he said softly, nodded to the teens bandages.

Peter stared at the hunter for a long moment. He still could not feel any danger from the dark mans presence, but he couldn't bring himself to trust the stranger either. Then the man spoke again.

"I am not going to hurt you, boy." And there was nothing, but an honest desire to help in the hunters eyes.

Peter's brow furrowed, his mind and instincts warring within him as he studied the stranger cautiously. His mind said no - hell no, but his instincts...

For a long moment Kraven thought the boy would deny him, but then the teen looked away, turning slightly so the Russian could have access to his back.

The man reached out, taking the dangling tail of the roll in his hand and gently, but securely tucking the end into the layers of gauze.

Peter twitched at the hunters touch, his breath catching in his throat, but the man did nothing more then what he said he would, his fingers carefully finishing the binding. The boy found himself surprised by the softness of the mans touch. It was hard to believe such big, calloused hands could ever be gentle and yet his were. So gentle. Gliding over his skin like a whisper then pulling back-

Peter gasped, his thoughts breaking off abruptly as he felt something inside him suddenly crack. Then the icy shell he had unconsciously build around his mental self burst, shattering to bare his vulnerable inner being. The boy's eyes flew wide as emotion came flooding back into him like a wave of lava, the cold that had deadened him fleeing the searing heat that threatened to shatter the boys world forever in an unbearable rush of fire. He could feel everything. Feel- oh god. Peter choked on a sob, tears pricking at his eye as all the fear, anguish and terror of the night before came rushing in. For a moment the teen thought the dark stranger had set of his spidy-sense, but no. His emotions had simply caught up with him in a single roaring torrent that felt like it was going to crush him under its immensity. He couldn't breathe under its weight. Couldn't- The boy mentally shied away from the inner turmoil, but it followed him doggedly, denying him relief. Everything felt raw, emotion like acid racing through him, burning him, tearing him up inside. The youth shuddered, hugging himself tightly as if he could somehow keep himself from falling apart as the numbness of shock receded and the tears came pouring out. I can't do this. I can't- It's too much. The brunet swallowed hard, his dry throat burning sharply as tears streamed down his cheeks. Please I... Help me...

TBC...

Sooooo I couldn't come up with a name for this chapter that started with H, but I had the content done so I figured you wouldn't mind if I uploaded it without a title for now and come back and put one in later. I hope that's not too much of a problem. I'm also perfectly happy to take suggestions, but be warned: I'm picky... and there's the added problem that a lot of the 'good' words are already earmarked for future chapters. Anyway, I'm really happy to be able to get another chapter this month (I know, I know. The chapter for 'Alien' was technically Oct 31st, but it's close enough that I'm counting it). I've also figured out that, funnily enough, one of the best time for me to write is when I have homework I really ought to be doing. Go figure ;P Hope you enjoy and, as always, I'd love to hear from you. Please, please take a second and review.