And You Will Know Me Still

by theicemenace

Bucky Barnes was set adrift after the fall of SHIELD. Where will he go? How will he survive? Will he be able to exist in a world he's unprepared for? Or will he have to rely on the kindness of strangers to get get by? Some chapters will be noted at the beginning if they contain more mature themes, though not necessarily of an intimate nature.

80. Chapter 80

A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Year From Hell: Season 3, in progress. Please stand by…

Note: It's been almost two months since the last post. My family has been experiencing troubling times, and posting wasn't as important as being there for them. Life is going to be difficult for us in the foreseeable future, and I make no apologies for putting my family above all other issues.

With that being said, enjoy this chapter that took nearly two months to complete. Prayers for my family would help too.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 80

Avengers Compound

Upstate New York

Midnight

Levitating several inches off the floor, Vision used his vast powers to monitor the compound and surrounding area. He once heard a human idiom: so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The night wasn't that silent, but close to it.

A cry split the air, hitting him physically and mentally. It could only be one person. His feet touched the floor, already carrying him toward the residences. As he reached the main hallway, his purple and silvery grey body and golden cape morphed into navy blue slacks and sweater.

Sam and Steve came out of their rooms, sending him questioning glances. For an answer, he nodded at Wanda's door. Another cry, felt mentally by all three, caused the humans to wince and rub their foreheads.

Instinctively, Vision moved toward the wall, intending to phase through it in order to go to Wanda's aid.

"Don't even think about it, Vis," Natasha warned as she pushed her way through the men to open the door.

~~O~~

At Natasha's no-nonsense tone, Vision explained, "I heard her crying out and…"

Natasha ignored him, saying over her shoulder. "Sam, bring me a cup of hot milk with honey and cinnamon. Not too hot. Steve, explain it to him while I see to Wanda."

Vision looked to Steve as Natasha darted into Wanda's room. She flicked on the bedside lamp, it's dim glow barely piercing the darkness. The girl was obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Natasha gently brushed at the damp hairs on Wanda's forehead, whispering, "Sh, malyutka. You're safe. No one will hurt you as long as I'm here."

Sitting on the side of the bed, she stroked the girl's forehead, murmuring soothing words. When that didn't help, Natasha's mind churned up a tune barely remembered from her childhood, humming quietly until Wanda had calmed.

Wanda's eyes opened suddenly. She gasped, her gaze darting frantically around the room, and shying away from Natasha's attempts at comfort. "It's okay, Wanda. You're safe."

Sam stepped past Steve and Vision standing in the doorway, concerned for their teammate. Natasha took the cup with a grateful smile and set it on the bedside table. She helped Wanda sit up, adjusting the pillows behind her back, and passed over the cup. "Drink this, then tell me what's wrong."

Wanda did as she was told, her breaths slowly returning to normal as she sipped. Holding the cup in her lap, her eyes moved to Natasha, then to the men and away. Natasha looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. The men took the hint and left them alone.

When they were gone, Wanda spoke, her voice wavering slightly, "It was the same nightmare where I'm being chased by a phantom. I try to use my powers, but they won't work. I run, but it catches me. I-I try to fight, but it's…" she shook her head, "I can't get away. No matter where I hide or where I go, it finds me," she hit the bed with a fist. "Then, strong though gentle hands grip my arms, holding me in place. I'm terrified, yet," her eyes met Natasha's for the first time, "I sense no malice from this entity. It's like I know it and it knows me." She sipped more of the drink and Natasha took the cup. "How is that possible, Natasha? What could it mean?"

A gentle smile turned up Natasha's mouth and she took Wanda's hand, "Dreams don't always tell a simple story. They are a universal language, often creating elaborate images from emotional concepts. Being chased could mean that you're running from something, a person or situation that you've avoided addressing in your waking life." Natasha smiled. "But that's only one possible scenario." She put every ounce of will into blocking Wanda's attempt to read her thoughts, "My advice is, if it continues or becomes even more troublesome, then make an appointment with the staff psychologist."

"I am not good at talking of personal matters with a stranger."

Lifting the covers, Natasha urged her to scoot down. She adjusted the pillows and stood. "Then talk to me or one of the guys." She turned the light out, feeling Wanda's need for a close and loving family. On impulse, she bent down to brush a soft kiss over the girl's forehead. "Now get some rest, malyutka."

The Parker Apartment

Queens, New York

Now that his brain had finished its morning reboot, Peter recalled all too clearly everything that happened the night before. From the disappointment in her eyes, May had the wrong idea about, well, everything.

She held up the phone, "So, let's talk about the herd of elephants in the room."

"Um… let's not?" he told her truthfully. Talking to his aunt about his relationship with Felicia, or any girl really, was not on his to-do list, not today, or any day. Not when the subject involved their love lives. Mentally cringing at the thought, Peter played with the hem of his pajama shirt, searching for something to say. "W-well, um, wh-what I mean is…"

May stood, tugged her top into place, and exhaled loudly on her way to the door, handing him the phone as she passed. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

Before the door closed, Peter called out, "But we always go out Sund…"

The fact that she wouldn't look at him was like a punch in the face as the door closed with a click. Peter winced as if she'd slammed it. He would've preferred it if she had. Loud slam equaled anger, while the soft slam equaled disappointment. "That went better than I thought." His phone vibrated with an incoming call. He thumbed the answer icon. Anything to put off the conversation he and May were about to have. "Yeah?"

Evolve Academy for the Performing Arts

Joliet, Illinois

Security Office

"Has this ever happened before?" Dinah demanded of the academy's chief of security, Seth Setzer. Of the staff, he and one other were unaware of the true purpose for opening the academy. Too bad he would take the fall if or when the truth came out.

Seth shook his head, a hand to his chin in thought. "I've checked all recordings back to the day we opened the doors. It's only been happening the last few days." He tapped the keyboard, switching from one camera to another. Each showed static with accompanying zzzt from the speakers. "Diagnostics say there's nothing wrong. My people have performed visual checks on all the alarms except in your personal residence, ma'am. Not a single fault or glitch. If you like, I can do the checks on your floor myself."

Dinah crossed her arms, drilling the bank of monitors with a glare. "That will not be necessary. Klaus has the expertise to do so himself." Realizing that she'd spoken to Seth in a tone that indicated she thought him mentally incapable of understanding such a simple concept, she relaxed her still posture and placed a hand on his shoulder. "The system is state of the art, new at the time of installation, and should not be having issues. It's not your fault we're experiencing malfunctions."

"But that's just it. Despite what we're seeing, there's been no interruption in the feeds. No lost or missing footage, no evidence that anyone has attempted to get inside the building, and the only outsiders that've been on the property on a regular basis are food delivery, laundry services, and gardeners."

"Do not worry yourself, Seth. Keep to the schedule and come to me or Klaus with any concerns that need addressing."

In the hall, Dinah thought over everything that had happened, or rather hadn't happened. Perhaps the static was just a glitch in the system that would correct itself. Perhaps the problem lay with a rodent infestation. She would contact a pest company to give the building a thorough search. Then again, maybe it would be best to begin systematically replacing the wiring throughout. To do that, they would have to bring in an outside contractor for such a large job. Letting strangers who hadn't been through a background check into the academy didn't set well. It required more thought.

The Parker Apartment

Queens, New York

The oven door slammed and May cursed under her breath. Not for the oven, but because she was angry with Peter and Felicia. The girl was older and more worldly than her nephew. She should've known better than to tempt him into having sex. May also conceded, to herself that, while the photo didn't look innocent, she'd seen it out of context, and Peter should be given a chance to explain.

She heard a sound behind her and suddenly, he was sitting at the table, though she hadn't heard him come out of his room. The speed with which he could move because of his abilities was taking some getting used to.

Putting on a non-threatening, hopefully neutral expression, May carried drinks to the table. Hot chocolate for Peter and coffee for herself. Peter didn't look up from his empty plate as she turned off the stove and oven before joining him.

Peter took the napkin from under the silverware and spread it over his lap before silently building a breakfast burrito. Just as quietly, May pushed the salsa within his reach. Taking care not to use an accusing tone, she forged ahead, "So, Peter, about last night…"

"We didn't have sex!" Peter blurted, startling her all over again. The first had been the note on the nightstand and seeing the photo when she retrieved the phone from the floor where it had fallen. "Felicia and, uh, me," finished quietly.

Ignoring his tone, May cleared her throat, and continued, "I was going to say…"

"No, really. We didn't." He looked her in the eyes and away, moving his attention to adding salsa to the burrito, and rolling it, his cheeks turning red. "I mean, yeah, we kissed," he explained, "a lot, but that's all."

Not wanting this to be an interrogation, May let the tension ease a bit before asking, "She left here wearing your clothes and carrying a bag, which presumably had her things in it."

"Um, yeah. See, uh, we had Flash's driver drop us off at the market and then we got caught in the rain." The blush faded, though he still wouldn't meet her eyes for more than a second or two. To May, it meant he was telling the truth about not having sex, but it wasn't the whole story.

"I see." May took a sip of coffee before continuing. "Just out of curiosity, why not?"

~~O~~

Peter chewed, swallowed, took a sip of hot chocolate, and wiped his mouth, hoping it would hide his shock that his aunt was asking such a personal question. "Ma-ay! I'm only fifteen! How old were you when you, uh, the first time?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to yank them back. Scared that she would answer with the truth or even answer at all, he held up a hand. "Never mind." He'd had many opportunities over the weeks since his first visit to Dr. Bennett's lab to talk to May, but hadn't. Mostly because it was just too embarrassing, but also because he thought she'd freak out, thinking he was sick or something.

"I shoulda told you this a while ago, but we've both been, you know, busy. Um, lately, I've been wondering about the way I got these abilities. You know, because of the radiation. Sam's friend Steve-you met him the other night-took me to see a specialist to maybe find out how it all worked and why it didn't kill me, and some other stuff."

"Karen told me it was a radioactive spider," May reminded him.

He was glad to see that she was no longer side-eyeing him, though it wasn't any easier talking about it. "That's a theory. One which Dr. Bennett confirmed."

May's eyes were on point with her emotions today. Next up: confusion and annoyance. "Peter, we've always been able to to talk about anything, but lately it seems you're keeping more and more from me." One side of her mouth turned up, the first sign of a smile he'd seen this morning. "And here I was patting myself on the back for the job I was doing raising you when all my friends are stressed out by their teens."

"You're a great mom, May," Peter rushed to reassure her again. "It's just that when it happened, when I got these powers, I kinda freaked out and I knew you would too."

"And I did not disappoint, did I?" They laughed together. Peter finally relaxed and so did May. "You didn't want me to worry, and I get that, but why bring it up now?"

Peter heaved a deep sigh as May went to the kitchen and came back with a plate of blueberry streusel cake still hot from the oven and the butter dish. They helped themselves, and even with this distraction, he knew she wouldn't forget to follow-up. He held the basket for May to take a piece then gave himself one. Using the butter knife, he split the piece, added a pat of butter, and set it on his plate to melt. "I should let Dr. B. explain it, but the short version is she found not just one, but several kinds of radiation in my blood." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. "She has a way to treat it so the radiation won't harm anyone else."

"You won't lose your powers?" With his mouth full, he shook his head. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she reached across the table to take his hand. "I'm sorry you felt you couldn't come to me with these concerns, but I'm glad you're okay."

Glad they were back on good terms, Peter impulsively asked, "Come with us."

"Us?"

"Yeah. Dr. Bennett wants to see me today. Captain Rogers is taking me."

She made a show of thinking it over, but it was easy to see she'd already made up her mind. "Let's go."

Budapest, Hungary

Sitting in a corner sipping fekete kávé, in English, black coffee, Bucky briefly thought of trying something more elaborate-Natasha's influence again. However, his reason for being here was to go unnoticed, to be as invisible as possible. Anything more than the basic order would place him firmly in someone's memory. He was trained to blend into the background, to fade away, and become a shadow in the corner of someone's eye, one that's gone when they turn their head. The face in the crowd that looks like someone from your past until you get closer and find they don't resemble that person at all. He spoke as little as possible to hide his decidedly non-Hungarian accent.

Today, as he'd done for the past week, Bucky waited for someone specific to come in for his own caffeine fix, He was ready to stay all day every day, if necessary. Doing so would put him on the radar of the staff, but it was a risk he had to take. Finding a hide-hole nearby would be a better strategy. Plus there was the added element of performing his job, which, ironically, was as a longshoreman again. Thankfully, his new boss was married, as were the other men and women on the staff. The chances of him falling into the same situation as with Antonia were non-existent.

When he saw the person for whom he was looking, he planned on engaging him in conversation. Sure, it would make him memorable, if only to that one person, but it couldn't be helped. If what he suspected was true, he would be performing a public service by seeing to it that this person would never harm another human being. Bucky saw it as a sacred duty in the same way that Natasha spoke of her time with the Avengers and as a now freelance spy. All he needed was the conditions to be right to take the shot.

Bucky took a book from the shelf and opened it to the first page.

Avengers Compound

Upstate New York

Steve hung up the phone after talking to Peter, not completely happy with his aunt taking the trip to Illinois with them, though he understood the boy's need to have his mother with him. It was irresponsible of Peter to be so lax with security that his aunt was now privy to his nighttime activities as Spider-Man. That she approved still perplexed him. Sam too. What's the point of having a secret identity if you're going to tell everyone?

He mentally rolled his eyes remembering the news bite he'd read from when Tony came back from Afghanistan. It was there he made the Iron Man prototype while trapped in a cave by the Ten Rings who were historically associated with the Mandarin. Tony had shot that theory to hell by exposing the Mandarin as Trevor Slattery, an out of work actor. The true identity of the Mandarin had turned out to be one of Tony's arch nemeses, Aldrich Killian. Or was he? Speculation among fringe groups hinted that it was the other way around. That Killian had been the puppet with Slattery pulling the strings. Or was the reality something entirely different?

Whatever the truth, during the events before, during, and after, Tony hadn't stopped telling people he was Iron Man. He even went so far as to give out his address, daring the Mandarin to come after him. Pepper and Maya Hansen had nearly paid the price for his arrogance.

A bag hit the table with a thud, drawing Steve out of his funk. Natasha stared at him while her jaws worked a piece of gum. She blew a bubble, sucked it back in. "Give that to Peter for me."

Steve didn't get a chance to ask what was in it because she turned on her heel and strode away, disappearing into the stairwell. The bag wasn't sealed, but it would be an invasion of Peter's privacy to look inside. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Steve planned on living for a long, long time. Besides, knowing Natasha, it was probably booby trapped and he didn't want to be the boob who got caught in it.

Tucking the bag under his arm, Steve headed out. He veered off course to his apartment where he shoved a few things into a bag, grabbed the shield, and continued his trek to the airfield where the guy in charge greeted him with a smile and a jaunty salute. He signed out one of the quinjets, stowed his bag and the shield, and settled into the pilot's seat.

Aboard the Quinjet

Headed for Illinois

Strapped into a jumpseat, May stared at her surroundings. "Wow. I didn't know anything remotely like this existed."

From the pilot's seat, Steve called out, amusement in his tone, "You're not supposed to, and technically, you should've signed a non-disclosure agreement before coming on board."

"You can trust May, Captain Rogers," Peter told him, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Once in the air, Peter unhooked from the jumpseat, and May followed suit, following him to the front. "How long till we arrive?"

"Thirty minutes or so to the airstrip. The drive will take another forty minutes," he said while looking at her over his shoulder. "Not sure how long we'll be there."

"Where Peter's health is concerned, we'll take as long as we have to," she reminded him.

Peter motioned and May went into the back with him, standing at the top of the ramp, afraid to step on it. "It won't open unless the pilot hits the override, and he won't do that while you're on board, except in an emergency."

A sliver of annoyance crinkled her forehead and she made a concerted effort to stop by rubbing. "Because I'm a woman."

"No, ma'am," came the response from the front just as Steve joined them. "Because you're a civilian."

May looked Steve in the eye and decided he was telling the truth. He went to the cubbyhole and came back with two cups of coffee. She accepted with a smile. "Want anything, Peter?"

"Fasting for bloodwork," he told her with a nervous glance at Steve.

She sipped the hot drink and Steve came to show her how to access the cup holder. "That's why I didn't hear you raiding the kitchen during the night." Seeing a chance to get even more info on his date with Felicia, May set the cup in the holder. "Felicia didn't make fun of your dancing skills, did she?"

Her nephew's chin came up, his eyes shining with pride. "She didn't, 'cause I got lessons."

That surprised her. "From whom?"

"Um," Peter looked over at Steve with a small shrug. "It, uh, started with Sam and Steve."

"What do you mean 'started with'?"

Steve dropped into the port bench seat, one side of his mouth turning up in a half smile. "I thought the lessons were going well, until Nat joined us." He shared a look with Peter, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "She threw up out and took over."

Her nephew had always been tongue-tied around girls. Now he was not only dating one, he let a woman teach him to dance? "Who's Nat?"

Taking out his phone, Steve tapped the screen and passed it to May. The woman in the photo was young, maybe thirty, with wavy dark auburn hair down to her shoulders, green cat-like eyes, and wearing a skintight black catsuit with touches of red and blue. The gauntlets on her wrists glowed blue-white, superficially resembling Peter's webslingers.

May's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Smoldering sexuality oozed from the small screen. She closed her mouth, took a sip of coffee, and looked over at Peter, rethinking everything she thought she knew about him, something she'd been doing a lot lately. "The Black Widow taught you to dance?"

Oncological Research Center

Dr. Bennett's Office

Holding a tablet in one hand, Christine gazed out the window, searching for Dylan. It wasn't necessary. The tablet had been programmed to track the boy during the time he was the Asset, or as Sonya had called him, the Subject. One moniker was just as bad as the other. Both removed his individuality and replaced it with a void.

The tablet beeping, showing that Dylan was within a couple hundred yards of the building, which piqued her insatiable scientist's curiosity because just seconds ago, the screen had been blank. Not one blip within its range. Yet, within seconds, he was suddenly there. Most of what she knew of his life prior to becoming the Subject indicated that he had the inhuman ability to move at superspeed. She'd never mentioned the fact to him. Hadn't even hinted at superhuman powers he might possess, and he hadn't spoken of it to her or Oliver.

Not that Christine expected to be taken into his confidence. After she'd freed him from Sonya's grasp, he'd often used her as a confidant, telling her about the bad dreams that kept him awake at night, fearful that he might hurt someone. But lately, Dylan had become more somber-some would see him as depressed, and they'd be correct, and he was distancing himself from them in a way that disturbed her peace of mind. He'd taken to going for long, solitary walks, often leaving his phone at home so she'd have no way of knowing where he'd gone or if he was okay.

Dylan was an adult, not a child, but still, she worried that he would come to believe that they and the world would be better off without him. It wasn't true, of course. If he were to die, by any means, their family would mourn the loss as they would one of their own because that's how they thought of him. His other life was in his head somewhere, and one day, he would surely go back to it. That the family could handle, as long as he didn't take what some called the easy way out. Taking a life, your own or another's, was never easy, nor would it end the suffering. All the family could do was assure him by words and deeds that he was cared for and would be missed.

The blip disappeared again, meaning Dylan had once more moved out of range at the same time a rental car pulled into visitor's parking. A few minutes later, Steve, Peter, and a dark haired woman emerged from the trees, making their way around to security.

"Time to get to work," Christine told the air with a sigh, going over the details of Peter's test results and the procedure for "curing" him so that being intimate with another wouldn't harm his partner. Taking out her phone, she sent a quick text.

*He's here. Need you in the lab ASAP*

The response came immediately. **On my way.**

By the time Christine reached the lobby, her visitors had been processed through security. Each had a badge clipped to their lapels. Smiling a greeting, she shook hands with Steve. "Captain Rogers. Good to see you again."

"And you, Dr. Bennett."

Peter glanced at the woman and held out his hand. Christine took it, shaking briefly. "You're looking well, Peter."

"Yeah, well, I never get sick anymore 'cause of, you know." He motioned to the dark-haired woman on his left. "Aunt May, this is Dr. Bennett. Dr. Bennett, this is May Parker, my aunt."

The women greeted each other with smiles and handshakes, and Peter's shoulders sagged in relief that May hadn't gotten all freaked out about the situation.

He nearly jumped when Christine touched his shoulder. "Peter? Let's head down to the lab. Once I've administered the first treatment, we'll monitor you for one to two hours. If there are no major side effects, you can go home."

~~O~~

For privacy, Steve went outside to make a call to Darcy. He was getting used to her bold, outspoken ways, and had come to not only expect it, but anticipate and subtly encourage her. It was their thing, a different version of the games that men and women play when they're dating.

Standing at the edge of the paved parking lot where it led to the wooded area, Steve scrolled to Darcy's number and touched dial. On the first ring, he spotted movement within the trees, a flash of silver that seemed familiar. His mind tossed up several clues, fighting, cocky banter, a vision of himself dancing with Peggy, a robot army, and more, bringing them all together to form an impossible picture.

"Hey, Steve… Steve? Hello?" Darcy's concerned voice echoed in his ear, and he finally gave her a small amount of his attention.

"I'll call you back," he muttered distractedly, his gaze following the probable path of whatever it was. He hung up without signing off, shut down the phone, and shoved it into his back pocket as he took off running.

Twenty minutes later, a frustrated Steve returned to the building, having lost track of whatever he'd seen. Going to security, he took out the special ID he and the rest of the Avengers carried when in civvies, guaranteeing, hopefully, full cooperation. "Excuse me," he flashed the ID, letting the guard get a good look, "I need to speak to a member of your staff. Six feet, well built, silver or white hair, twenties."

The guard looked at the badge curiously, head tilted to the side in thought, then shook his head. "No one here by that description, Captain Rogers. Closest we got are Doctors Jagger, Nieves, and Westerkamp. They're the only ones with silver hair, but they're all in their sixties. Why do you ask?"

"I saw someone in the woods. There aren't any other businesses close by, so I assumed he or she worked or was visiting here."

The guard smiled in relief. "You probably saw an albino deer that lives in the woods. It was born last spring. Made national headlines with the Audubon Society."

To Steve, the man appeared to be speaking the truth. Still, his mind's eye kept telling him what he'd seen wasn't a deer. He nodded and smiled back, seeming to accept the explanation. "You're probably right. I'm from Brooklyn. Don't get many deer around Flatbush Ave."

Christine's Lab

Lying on his back in the hospital bed, Peter tucked one hand up over his head under the pillow, wishing this was all over already. The door opened and Christine entered with Dylan right behind her, also wearing a gown. He was festooned with medical sensors, as was Peter. Only Dylan wore an extra accessory: a cocky grin. "We meet again, Spider-Man."

To Christine, Peter said, "What's he doing here? This was supposed to be a private room." He hadn't meant to sound accusing, but wasn't full disclosure a doctor thing?

Dylan lay in the next bed, rolling his eyes when Christine took it upon herself to pull the covers up to his chest, tucking him in like a child. At last, something they had in common.

Christine turned on Dylan's monitors, adding a counterpoint beeping to that produced by Peter and his monitors. Dylan adjusted the pillow under his head, still grinning. "You and I are about to become blood brothers, my friend."

Crossing his arms, Peter scowled at Christine and Dylan in turn. "When did we become friends?"

Stepping between them, Christine gave them each a look of reprimand softer than that from their first meeting. "You don't have to like each other, boys." She turned that gaze fully on Peter and he immediately experienced the need to apologize. May called it the guilt glare. "And you absolutely don't have to be friends, but you do have to be civil to one another. Peter, it's Dylan's blood that will create… let's call it a cushion or barrier around your cells that will allow the radiation that gave you your powers to remain while preventing it from harming anyone who might come into contact with any of your bodily fluids for a prolonged period."

An assistant entered with a covered tray. He placed it on a table and left again. Christine removed the cover, displaying a device Peter had never seen before. She put on gloves and proceeded to hook it up, adding IV tubes which she attached to the IVs the tech had inserted in the backs of his and Dylan's hands, explaining as she worked. "For this to work, Peter, the blood can't be drawn. It has be transfused directly from Dylan to you." His concern must've showed on his face-he wasn't good at hiding emotions, hence the mask when in Spidey persona. "We did extensive testing these past couple of weeks. Your blood types are compatible, or we'd still be looking for answers."

Christine completed the hook-up, checked everything over, made notes, and stripped off the gloves. "I'll be back in an hour or so, boys. Behave while I'm gone. And remember," she looked up at the ceiling to the camera, "you're being watched."

"What am I supposed to do while this is going on? I am bored already," Dylan told her with a note of affection even Peter could hear.

With a smirk, she took out a remote and pressed a button. A plasma screen lowered from the ceiling while she opened a locked cabinet in the corner, taking out a pair of game controllers. She handed the remote to Dylan along with a controller and gave the other to Peter. "You're free to watch a movie, play games, whatever you want. As long as you don't argue over every little thing."

Without another word, she left the room, the door hissing closed behind her, locking them in. Dylan looked over at Peter, holding up the controller with that same grin. "Shall we play a game?"

Three Hours Later

"…We'll monitor Peter's progress every two weeks. Blood, urine, and so forth. If he has any unusual symptoms, don't hesitate to contact me, day or night," Christine told May. "You're welcome to accompany him at any time."

May read over the information on the tablet Christine had given her detailing, in layman's terms, the plans to help her nephew. "It's so much to take in. I haven't completely come to terms with the fact that he has superpowers, and now this." Getting to her feet, May walked to the window, holding the tablet in one hand while looking out over the surrounding forest. "I guess I just need reassurance that he's going to be okay, that this serum won't harm him in anyway."

"As with any medical procedure, even the minor ones, there's always a risk. All factors considered, my colleagues and I believe the advantages outweigh the disadvantages. See, Peter is concerned that, should someone come into contact with his blood, it would be detrimental to their health."

"Understandable," May agreed, turning from the calming view, a knowing smile aimed at Christine. "As one mother to another, it isn't necessary to soft-soap the real reason behind this sudden need to see a doctor. There's a girl involved." She let herself down on the sofa and crossed her knees. "I've been assured that he has no plans to be intimate with his girlfriend in the near future, and I believe him. He's a really bad liar. I just wish he'd trusted me enough to say something sooner, so I could've been with him from the start."

Christine came to sit next to her. "It's not easy raising teenagers. Mine's a girl, so any advice I could give wouldn't necessarily work in your situation. We all have to feel our way. Make sure he knows you're available, should he need someone to talk to."

May chuckled and stood when Christine did. "It sounds so easy when you say it like that." She followed her into the hall where Peter was just coming out the door where the treatment had been administered. May had gotten a good look at the equipment, and to her, there appeared to be at least one of every medical device known to man, plus some she'd never seen before. Peter was obviously in good hands.

Raising one eyebrow, Christine told her with the tone and conviction of experience, "It does, doesn't it? Trust me, I've been a researcher for most of my adult life. Nothing is ever as easy as it sounds. Especially when it comes to raising children."

The Parker Apartment

Queens, New York

The Next Evening

Though he was annoyed, Peter understood May's reluctance for him return to patrolling so soon after the transfusion. She wanted to protect and watch over him, waiting for some strange side effect to manifest itself. It had taken some fast talking, but eventually, and Dr. Bennett agreed, she gave the okay for him to go out for a few hours tonight.

He'd been surprised at finding a suit similar to his in the bag Natasha sent with Steve, until he realized that the idea was to help May understand what he did and why. The best way to do that was first-hand experience. It also meant he'd have to pick and choose his battles more carefully to keep her safe. Certainly nothing with weapons or hand-to-hand combat involved.

Peter grabbed his mask and went to knock on May's door. "You ready?"

The door opened on his aunt in an all-black jumpsuit similar to the one Cat wore, and included a mask that would fully hide her identity. He'd checked it over beforehand and found it had some of the same functions as his Spider-Man suit, without all the extra bells and whistles that worked with his powers.

May took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm not sure this is a good idea, Peter. What if I distract you at a crucial moment?"

"Relax. We're just gonna go through the motions. Change a couple tires, help an old lady with her groceries, stuff like that. Nothing too dangerous."

"If you're sure…"

Straightening his spine, Peter gave her a confident nod. "Absolutely." He pulled on the mask and waited for her to do the same. Once their faces were covered, he held out a hand and she took it. "Let's do this."

Knowing he couldn't see her expression, May nodded. "Yes. Let's."

~~O~~

Standing on the roof of their apartment building, May made a concerted effort to slow her breathing and heartrate, but nothing worked. Not her usual meditation mantra of closing her eyes and imagining herself in the forest listening to birds chirp and a waterfall in the distance. And especially not that pleasantly tired sensation after giving yourself over to passion with another.

Peter looked over the side and May joined him, feeling the closed in sensation of claustrophobia. The skin-tight material didn't bother her nephew. As a boy, she'd often found him in the back of the walk-in closet with a book or hand-held game. At first, she thought he was hiding or that it was his way of coping with the death of his parents, but that wasn't the case. She and Ben had gone to his home to get his belongings after the court had formally granted them custody. There, they'd found a child-sized table and chairs in the closet, toys, games, coloring books, crayons, and books all the way in the back behind the clothes, evidence that he spent most of his solitary playtime there, to go by the empty cups with traces of dried milk and juice in the bottom.

"Karen, what've we got going that's not too dangerous?" Peter inquired.

May heard Karen's response in her ears, coming from a headset built into the mask. She adjusted the fit while Peter and his friend talked.

"There are several robberies in progress, as well as a carjacking, and the usual flat tires, jaywalking, shoplifting, and other petty thefts." Karen's well-modulated, serene voice did what meditation couldn't, calming May's mind, and bringing down her heartrate.

Peter's decision came quickly. "We'll take the shoplifters."

He jumped nimbly onto the parapet and held out a hand. Tonight, May would learn more about her teenaged nephew than she'd ever known or suspected.

Taking his hand, May inhaled sharply when he easily lifted her up next to him. Peter held her around the waist and she instinctively looped both arms around his neck. "Hold on."

He hadn't asked if she was ready and the fact stunned her. As Spider-Man, he exuded self-confidence and fearlessness she'd always felt was lacking in his personality until quite recently. At first, May had put it down to his new-found relationship with the supremely confident Felicia. She only now realized that her perceptions had been tempered by proximity, familiarity, and self-delusion.

May looked into the eyes of the mask, seeing Peter's baby face, earnest expression, and sweet smile. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip. This was it. The moment of truth. Too late to back out now.

Peter extended his free arm, shooting a web into the air. "Here we go," he told her with unconcealed humor, and jumped off the building.

TBC