I know I abandoned all of you for the umpteenth time. And it's hard to read me say for the thousandth time that I have every intention of finishing. I apologize for my prolonged absence. I think we can all agree that this past year has made writing…difficult.

Either way, let's continue this story.

"So…what do you think?"

Spider-Man stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to see the data that Bruce Banner was currently mulling over. The diminutive version of the incredible Hulk merely released a tolerant sigh but gave a small shuffle betraying his discomfort "I think you're standing just a tad too close," Bruce replied.

Peter flinched, jolting backwards while wringing his hands sheepishly, "Sorry."

The scientist regarded Peter, concern curling in his gut at the way he could see how Spider-Man's illness had diminished the young man. Tony Stark had given him a quick run down of what had happened, the cause of the radical mutation within a mutation. Tony wasn't the type to show vulnerability, a trait that Spider-Man seemed to share, but in that moment Iron Man betrayed the true depth of his worry for the Spider. Looking at the data, Bruce could understand why.

It was Spider-Man's turn to scuff his foot in unease on the floor, his hands wringing each other at an even greater pace, "Uh, Doc? Your face doesn't exactly scream 'cure'."

Tony and Walter Cage stepped forward, each placing a hand on the now trembling teen hero. Bruce could only swallow the guilt burning in his chest "I'm sorry," he rasped, turning back to the screen to face the test results "maybe if I had more time, I could come up with something, but at the rate it's spreading…"

The webbed head bowed mournfully, the shaking spreading from his shoulders down to his fingers, "That's it, I guess," Peter murmured breathlessly, "I mean, you're the guru of radiation. If you can't help me then no one can."

"I may not have a cure, but I have a suggestion of someone who might be able to help." Bruce shrugged.

Peter's lensed gaze shot up, impossible hope bubbling up in his chest, "I'm all ears."

…..

"Yeah, Africa!" Sam whooped, excited brown eyes glittering as he watched the savanna speed by underneath "This is awesome!"

"I'm glad you talked Fury into letting us come," Luke grinned, folding his hands behind his head as their jet sped through the sky.

Peter shrugged from where he sat in the cockpit, mask currently laying on the dashboard as he watched their position on the map "Tony wanted to come, so did Doc Conners, but…"

The Spider went silent, unsure of how to put into words the fact that even though he was seeking a cure for his condition, he was getting exhausted of constantly being followed around by doctors and scientists. That he just wanted to have the support of his friends and not have to listen to incredibly intelligent adults argue about what was best for him. To basically be ignored, or treated like a fragile piece of glass, or worse yet like a little kid. He was tired of all of it.

Which was why when Bruce Banner suggested visiting T'Challa in Wakanda, Peter immediately suggested his team to be his babysitters before anyone else could volunteer.

"I guess…" Peter finally ventured, "I guess that they're not really the ones I want to be around right now."

Ava's eyes softened with understanding, and she reached over to grasp their Spider's hand. His exhaustion was palpable to his team, and they knew without him having to say anything that he was nearing the end of potential options. Peter curled his hand around so to thread their fingers together, and Ava's heart broke when she felt how hard his fingers were trembling.

"We'll be there every step of the way," Ava stated, her voice soft but firm with conviction "you won't have to be alone."

"Unless, of course, you want to be." Nova cut in, "We get that sometimes you want to be alone."

Ava rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement, "Although we'd rather you not be alone, we understand if you need some privacy."

"Indeed, Spider," Danny intoned, his steady voice comforting in its lack of emotion "simply tell us what you feel you need, and we will do our best to accommodate you."

"But still be prepared to deal with us being very close by." Luke affirmed, reaching up to flick Sam on the back of the head when the young Guardian practically climbed into his lap just to look out the window.

Peter released a dry chuckle at the comical sight, then quickly swiped at his eyes so no one could see just how close he was to having another meltdown. "Thanks, guys."

….

"Welcome to Wakanda, Spider-Man," T'Challa announced, arms wide as he watched the teen hero disembark.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Peter replied with a polite incline of his head as he shook hands with the King.

Black Panther merely gave a gentle smile, his own heart clenching at the sheer youth of the hero coming to see him in such dire straits. "It's the least I can do for a fellow Avenger," he said softly, "I only wish it were under better circumstances."

Spider-Man's head dipped as his shoulders deflated, "You and me both," he murmured bitterly.

"I can't promise that we will have the answers," T'Challa stated, his tone gentle "but I can promise that we will do everything we can. I pray it is enough."

The red and blue clad hero could only nod, swallowing past the wad of hopelessness and anger already balling up in his throat. He was here because he would be doing himself a disservice if he didn't run down every lead, but the cynic in him was whispering that he would leave bitterly disappointed…again. Clenching his hands into fists, Spider-Man thrust the dark thoughts away from him and directed his team to follow the King of Wakanda from the landing strip and into the opulent city. This may be another goose chase, but it was one he was willing to run.

As they traversed the palace, their eyes popping at the technological advancements as well as the luxurious surroundings, Peter felt unease. He felt like someone was watching him. Glancing around, the young hero found that it wasn't one person, but it was many. "Uh," Spidey managed, shoulders hunching in discomfort, "Is it really ok that we're here?"

T'Challa smirked, knowing already that Spider-Man was referring to the gawking of his people, "We don't receive many visitors. Add in the fact that we still revere the folktales of our people, and you come wearing a spider totem like Anansi, it tends to make a statement."

"Ah," Peter could only reply dumbly.

Taking a swift turn, T'Challa directed the group through a door and into a suite of rooms connected by a common sitting area. "This will be your quarters for the next few days," the King presented, "your team may rest here, but you Spider will accompany me to one of our labs."

"But…" Peter's hands unconsciously wrapped around himself, feeling a small wing of panic in his chest. He didn't want to be alone. Not after seeing Morlun in Tony's lab. The thought made a shiver of fear slink down his spine.

His team sensed his unease, forming a tight protective circle around their leader. "We'd prefer to come, if it's alright." Luke rumbled, muscular arms folding decisively over his barrel chest.

"Agreed," Iron Fist nodded, his eyes narrowing, "where our leader goes, we go as well."

Black Panther sighed, having expected this reaction, "I understand your wanting to protect him, but even as King I can only pull so many strings. The lab I will be taking him to is considered classified to the extreme. Only a select few outsiders are given the privilege of seeing its contents."

"We understand that," White Tiger cut in, lifting her chin in an unspoken challenge "but we've been with Spider-Man from the day this started and we intend to stay by his side."

Nova stepped forward, his aura flashing "What she said."

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his heart, he was flattered and grateful for his team's protectiveness of him. The Spider honestly couldn't understand why they even wanted to stick around after all they'd been through with him. Unfortunately, they were at an impasse. Placing weakened hands on the shoulders of his teammates, the young hero gently pushed them aside. "I don't like it either, guys, but we are guests here. We need to play by their rules."

"But-!" Sam exploded, only to be stopped by a Spider glare.

"No buts," Peter commanded sternly, "I'm grateful that you care so much, but the fact of the matter is, we are here by invitation and we can't be rude by making unfair demands."

The team fell silent, then with unhappy pouts, nodded their assent. With many grumbles and muttered complaints, the group dispersed then watched as their leader followed the King out the door.

Peter trudged behind T'Challa, his eyes downcast and hands gripping each other tightly. The courage he felt in the room seeping away like sand in a sieve. Black Panther felt the tension. Unsure of how to comfort the Spider he had opened his mouth several times during their walk to the lab, only to close it again when no words came to mind. How do you comfort a teenage boy who had just been informed that he was about to die? Neither knew how to broach the subject, and neither felt up to small talk, and so both endured the seemingly long walk in an awkward silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Spidey was led into a futuristic science lab that would have made Tony Stark drool. In fact, Peter, with all his experience at S.H.I.E.L.D. found his jaw dropping at the tech residing within the clean metallic walls. "I've gotta say," he murmured in awe, "I've been around a lot of Top-Secret labs in my life, but I've never seen devices like these!"

The Black Panther found himself chuckling at the Spider's enthusiasm, "We mapped the human genome 50 years before western scientists."

"Wow," Peter stopped to admire a hologram projection of a male form, startling when he looked at the face and realized it was a projection of himself. Data sprung off various areas of the holographic body, each detailing a different piece of information concerning his condition. "That's me," Peter murmured, "but then, that means you know my secret identity?"

T'Challa smiled gently, "Yes, Fury informed me of your identity around the time Bruce sent a message requesting my help. We needed to know everything, as well as required extensive blood samples so we could begin working on a potential cure."

"So?" Peter pulled his mask off, casting pleading eyes onto the monarch, "Did you find anything?"

The smile gracing the noble face withered away, and T'Challa released a sigh that rode on a tired groan, "Unfortunately," he stated, his tone low with grief, "we still can't figure out the source of your illness, much less how to treat it."

"However," the King strode over to a small bowl perched on a metal table and scooped it up, "we have one final effort. This."

Peter gingerly accepted the ceramic bowl being presented to him, lips pursed in dubious thought, "Uh, look, I know that clean living is all the rage and eating greens can prevent cancer and things like that…but don't you think it's a bit late to start eating salads?"

"These are special herbs known only to grow in Wakanda." T'Challa smirked, fighting the urge to chuckle, "only a warrior proven to be worthy of being the King can eat them. They give the leader of the Black Panther clan his special abilities."

Brown eyes blew wide, and a stunned jaw dropped "But…then…then why am I allowed to eat them?! I mean, I'm not...I'm not…good enough…"

The monarch leaned back, suddenly feeling sick as if someone had just given him a solid punch to the gut. Why on earth would Spider-Man think that about himself? Hadn't this boy saved the world multiple times already? Teamed up with the world's greatest heroes? Been accepted as an Avenger despite his youth and earned the respect of the one and only Nick Fury? If anything, this child should be overflowing with adolescent bravado and arrogance. But no, he doubted his worth, unable to see the valuable friend and indispensable hero that he was. Black Panther felt an animalistic urge to growl at the thought, but firmly squelched it.

"Spider-Man," he stated, his tone brooking no argument, "your team stepped forward to protect you when I suggested separating you. And even when they did not like when you asked them to stay behind, they respected your wishes and did as you asked. Not only that, but I have spoken extensively with Nick Fury, Tony Stark and most prominently Bruce Banner. They all had nothing but praise about your courage, selflessness and character as a leader as well as a young man."

Peter opened his mouth to cut in, a flush of embarrassment at the sudden torrent of compliments burning across the back of his neck. However, T'Challa silenced him with a raised hand, "As far as I am concerned, you are a warrior with the heart of a king. Now, eat."

Tears sprung up in the chocolate brown gaze, making the young hero give a small sniffle to reign in his already burning sinuses. Ducking his head, the teen dutifully plucked out a few of the heart shaped leaves and popped them in his mouth while giving tentative chews. "Chewy," he observed, once again turning to levity so to draw attention away from the fact Black Panther had almost brought him to tears, "would it be sacrilegious to add salad dressing?"

T'Challa released a small bark of laughter, shaking his head Peter's brazen behavior, "Yes,"

Finishing up the herbs, Peter handed the bowl back to the monarch, "Ok, now what?"

"Now we wait, it will take about a day or so for the results to come back on any potential change."

…

Peter chuckled as Sam squirmed next to him. Both boys were sitting on the bed, relaxing after a day spent sightseeing on the African Savannah. Ava lounged behind them, her graceful form resembling the jungle cats they had found earlier that day. Iron Fist stood by, taking pictures while Luke laughed at the sight. What was so funny? Apparently, Nova and their Spider had made a bet on who would look better with their hair braided into cornrows. The female warriors guarding their room volunteered their hands for the job, and Peter had managed to get the normally serious women laughing like little girls.

"Dude, I already know that I totally rock this look better than you," Sam grinned, his eyes shut as he enjoyed the feeling his hair being braided.

An explosive snort rocked the spider's frame, "Whatever, bucket head," Peter purred, a happy smirk adorning his features, "everybody knows that out of the two of us I'm the cute one."

"You wish!" The Nova snapped back, his tone holding no malice.

"I don't need to, because it's true," Spider-Man replied in a sing song voice.

Ava cracked up laughing, "Are we seriously doing this?" she giggled "I mean, you're both already getting your hair braided like girls at a slumber party. Now we're arguing over who's prettier?"

"Aw, come on Ava," Sam laughed "you have to admit that I'm way better looking than Web Head."

Peter slanted his head to pin the Tiger with a laughing brown gaze, "Ava, you know you operate on logic, and logically, I'm the better looking one."

Ava paused, a blush rushing to her cheeks as she watched Peter give her a slow grin, "I don't have to admit anything," she spluttered, "and logically I'm not going to make distinctions between my teammates that could cause problems later."

"Aw!" both boys wailed, taking a moment to throw pillows at Ava (helpfully supplied by their laughing bodyguards), "Party pooper!"

The White Tiger snickered, grabbing one of the thrown pillows and pelting it right back, a wide grin of satisfaction beaming when it splatted Peter on the face. The Spider looked at Sam, then their bodyguards. Gripping a pillow in either hand, Peter bellowed, "PILLOW FIGHT!"

Soon the rom was filled with flying pillows and cushions. Their bodyguards teaming up with Peter as he was essentially ganged up on by his own team. The Sounds of laughter reverberated off the rafters, along with countless splats and thumps as the battle raged. This was the sight that T'Challa walked into.

Peter was crouched behind a flipped table with his bodyguards, the girls wearing uncharacteristically large grins as they catapulted pillows using the Spider's webbing. Power-Man was holding an entire duvet over his head, while Nova hovered in midair armed with four pillows. The White Tiger and Iron Fist were preparing a sneak attack while their teammates kept the Spider distracted, however, if Peter's mischievous grin was anything to go by, they were not going to succeed.

Clearing his throat, the Monarch had to give a heavy swallow restraining his own laughter when the room froze. The Bodyguards blushed deeply, hiding their pillows behind their backs even as the teenagers snickered into their fists. "Uh," Peter ventured, his voice cracking with barely stifled giggles, "this isn't what it looks like?"

"So, you haven't instigated a pillow fight and somehow enlisted the palace guard to play on your team?" the King replied, one eyebrow quirked.

Peter looked between the female warriors, the girls valiantly trying to maintain their composure but failing in spectacular fashion as all three snorted and laughed. "Ok. It's exactly what it looks like." The Spider stated, prompting an explosion of giggles that echoed through the room.

T'Challa shook his head with a fond smile, his fingers gripping the papers held behind his back with a vengeance. He hated that this happy moment was about to disappear, hated with every fiber of his being that he had to be the one to kill it. But he had Peter's test results, and the boy deserved to know that Wakanda did not hold the answers to his cure. That he was still going to die. Heaving a sigh, the man stepped toward the young hero and placed a hand on a broad shoulder.

"Peter, we need to talk."

The teen boy's laughter dried up as he took in Black Panther's serious features. And with a gulp of apprehension, the teen boy nodded his assent and stood to follow the King out of the room. With slightly dragging steps, Peter looked wistfully back at the group he had just been having so much fun with. He already knew what T'Challa was going to tell him, and for a moment he wished that he could rewind time and go back to just a few moments ago when he had managed to forget about his inevitable demise. Instead, the boy faced the dark corridor lit by moonlight and stood with his head bowed on a balcony framed by the starlit night sky. Fate, it seemed, wasn't done tormenting him yet.

I hope this makes up for my absence. As always, I'm writing more and intend to finish this story. It is on top of my to-do list and I refuse to give up on it until its finished.

Thank you for your kind words and encouraging reviews. It's because of those reviews that I get motivation to keep going.

I look forward to your thoughts concerning this latest chapter and I hope this chapter does the previous chapters justice.