Authors Note: Hope you all had an outstanding 4th of July. In honor of the premiere of Spiderman Homecoming here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

Listen With Your Heart Chapter 4

The moment Uncle Ben left his bedroom Peter immediately jumped into the task of doing research on Curt Connors. Logging into Bing he typed in his fathers name alongside Curt Connors assuming since they worked together there should be some information on articles about them somewhere off the Internet.

Peter found one with the title Scientists at Oscorp Announce Impending Breakthrough. Oscorp, the exact same company name on the ide badge that was in the briefcase. When he clicked on the link a separate article from the Daily Bugle, a citywide newspaper popped up showing the photograph he got from his fathers possessions. The title of this article being Cross Species Genetics Science Fiction or Science Fact? A related article was the plane cross that killed his parents.

This time using only Connors name he searched on Bing again. He found stuff specific on Connors own scientific research and published works. As explained in one of his essays A World Without Weakness he emphasizes on the points everyone is equal in both their abilities and health. How cross species genetics can promise the world this future without any sort of deformities.

Accessing Oscorp Industries website there was a page on Intern Enrollment specifically under Dr. Connors tutelage. He mentors futures geneticists at Oscorp Industries. Unfortunately for Peter an update blinking on the bottom of the screen page said the opening for intern enrollment was closed.

Scrolling down there was an image of Oscorp Tower a building in Manhattan. The address was written leaving him a clear way to locate the place though a building as large as this one would already be difficult to miss. It towered over practically everything else in New York City.

Tomorrow Peter was going to take a trip to Oscorp determined to meet Curt Connors and maybe perhaps explore the facility a little for answers one way or another. It was a weekend so school wouldn't interfere in any way.

The very next day Peter did exactly this.

Peter didn't want to get aught up running errands his aunt and uncle might ask him to do so he made sure they didn't see him when he left the house.

When Peter got to Oscorp Towers he couldn't resist marveling at the grandness of the facilities stature both outside and in. Entering a person would think they'd would've just arrived at a meeting of the United Nations with how many people belonging to different ethnicities were mingling together.

Peter stood in the center of the lobby gaping at it all. Because of this lack of decorum his presence became noticed.

"Excuse me," called the receptionist at the front desk.

"What," said Peter, snapping his head in her direction approaching the desk.

"Can I help you," asked the receptionist.

"Oh, uh…," said Peter, leaning on the front of the desk, "I don't know. I'm here to see Dr. Connors."

"Right. You'll find yourself to the left," she said, gesturing to the right of the desk on her side.

Unsure to what she was referring to Peter stood there confused.

It definitely showed on his face. The receptionist was beginning to get suspicious at his clueless expression.

"You are here for the internship," asked the receptionist, brow raised.

"Yeah," said Peter, nodding, finally getting the gist to what was going on. "Yeah."

"Okay," she said, most likely believing at this point he was a nervous nerd. "You'll find your badge to the left."

"Oh," said Peter, pretending to look for a badge. Apparently he hesitated a second too long.

"Are you having trouble finding yourself?"

"No," said Peter, shaking his head, picking a random badge. "Yeah, I got it." He then showed it to her.

"Okay," said the receptionist, confirming the name, "Mr. Guevera."

Smiling, playing the act, Peter said "Gracias."

"De nada," said the receptionist, returning to her work.

Peter got on the escalator to join the interns at the assigned converging spot while listening to a recording playing from the buildings intercom system.

"Welcome to Oscorp. Born from the mind of our founder, Norman Osborn, the Oscorp Towers houses 108 floors of innovation. Our scientific minds are pushing the boundaries of defense, biomedical, and chemical technologies. The future lies within."

At the top of the escalator Peter found the group of eager interns waiting for their scheduled tour in Oscorp. Carefully Peter integrated himself in behind them. So far so good he was managing to keep his cover in place so not to be discovered.

That wasn't to last long.

"Welcome to Oscorp. My name's Gwen Stacy. I'm a senior at Midtown Science ad I'm, also, head intern to Dr. Connors," said Gwen, coming from the elevators. Peter lowered his head a hand partially over his face so she might not see him there. If she saw him his façade was done for. "So I'll be with you for the duration of your visit. Where I go you go. That's the basic rule. If you remember that all will be fine. And if you forget that then-."

"What is wrong with you?!"

A scuffle below caught everyone's attention. Security was dragging a protesting civilian out from the lobby. One with an interesting story getting increasingly frantic to convince security his identity.

"Listen. Tell them Rodrigo Guevera is down here! Please, just tell them Rodrigo Guevera is down here! My name's Rodrigo!"

Sheepish Peter covered his head even further.

"Well I guess I don't need to tell you what happens if you forget that," said Gwen, sarcastically. "Shall we?"

Gwen then led the group to the Cross-Species-Division with Peter following at the When they got to this department in Oscorp Towers they were greeted by none other than Dr. Curtis Connors himself.

"Come around this way," instructed Gwen, pointing to a section in the lab clear of any hazardous materials.

Exiting an isolated chamber in front of them, Connors greeted "Good afternoon, Gwen."

"Dr. Connors," responded Gwen in kind.

"Welcome. My name is Dr. Curtis Connors. And yes, in case you're wondering, I'm a southpaw," joked Connors.

The interns residing in the tour group laughed gently at his humor regarding his absent right arm.

"I'm not a cripple, I'm a scientist, and I'm the worlds foremost authority on herpetology. That's reptiles for those of you who don't know," explained Connors. "But like the Parkinson's patient who watches on in horror as her body slowly betrays her or the man with macular degeneration whose eyes grow dimmer each day, I long to fix myself. I want to create a world without weakness. Anyone care to venture a guess just how?"

Raising a hand at the invitation, eager, an inter suggested "Stem cells?"

"Yes, well, it's promising. But the solution I'm thinking of is more radical," hinted Connors. He waited for one of the interns to take another guess. But all had no indication what he was mentioning. "No one?"

"Cross-species genetics."

The tour group parted so the one who'd spoken could reveal himself. The whole time Peter kept himself in the back unnoticed. Now, involuntarily, he spoke before being able to catch the comment.

Connors gazed at this boy with a great deal of interest. He appeared familiar somehow, but failed to place him.

Gwen certainly had no such dilemma.

Gwen double-checked her list to see if he'd been scheduled on as an intern to take the tour. He was not his name was totally absent.

"Person gets Parkinson's when the brain cells that produce dopamine start to disappear. But a zebra fish had the ability to regenerate cells on command," continued Peter. "If you could somehow give tis ability to the woman you're talking about that's that. She's…she's curing herself."

The entire time Peter was answering Connor's hypothesis with his own the man never took his eyes off him for a minute. It was like hearing his very own words spilling from the kid's mouth.

"Yeah you just have to look past the gills on her neck." Commented the same intern from before. The tour group laughed.

Connors made a silencing motion with his hand for silence and they all obeyed. Their eyes all kept traveling back and forth between him and Peter.

"Heh. A-And you are…," inquired Connors, impressed and stunned by Peter's analysis.

Peter deadpanned, unable to pronounce his name. If he did so eh would startle Dr. Connors before a proper introduction in private.

Gwen saved Peter by the bell.

"He's one of Midtown Sciences best and brightest," said Gwen, interceding on Peter's behalf.

"Really," said Connors. Gwen said "he's second in his class."

"Oh." said Connors, smiling.

"Second," said Peter.

"Yeah," said Gwen, nodding, smug.

"You sure about that," jibed Peter.

"I'm pretty sure," countered Gwen.

Neither had the opportunity to continue this lovely banter. Not only did other people surround them, but, also, an unexpected visitor recently arrived on the scene.

"Father."

In unison everyone looked around Dr. Connors as he turned to see the speaker. A bright smile lighting his face a sparkles in his eyes there. The reason why was easily obvious.

Phoebe Connors maneuvered through the numerous workstations in the lab to get to her father. She was carrying a large paper bag delicately in her hands the smile formed on her lips basically making her face glow. She then shared a loving embrace with her father pecking him on the cheek.

Arm wrapped around Phoebe, Connors said "Everyone may I introduce my daughter Phoebe."

"Hello," said Phoebe, softly.

The interns either waved or spoke reflection to her salutations except for one.

Peter was speechless making an immense effort to keep restrained from revealing himself to her now. As he told his Uncle Ben he'd seen Phoebe many occasions before, but now that he was aware she's his twin sister. Well he was never going to look at her the same way again. She was seen in a whole difference light for now on. Honestly he kept thinking he was such a big idiot for not noticing things about her before that they shared. Phoebe, bare of glasses, they had the same eye color and shape. Hair was so dark it was almost black, but the shades were similar. Everywhere he looked there were resembling features.

"What are you doing here, Love," said Connors.

Head tilted, lifting the bag in her arms, Phoebe said "I've got your lunch. I thought we could eat together during your break."

"That sounds lovely, Phoebe," chuckled Connors. His cellphone then went off. Checking the message there was a separate matter that required his attention. One he wasn't looking forward to in the least. "I'm afraid duty calls. I'll leave you in the more-than-capable hands of Miss Stacy. Nice meeting you all."

Connors walked away a hand pressed against Phoebe's back leading her away, saying "Why don't you wait in my office. I'll join you shortly."

Smiling Phoebe did as requested while Connors went in the opposite direction. Peter didn't take his eyes off her once until she moved out of range losing sight of her.

Later on Phoebe took her leave from her fathers office to go to the bathroom. In her absence Connors had a meeting with Dr. Raji Ratha. He's an Oscorp executive working directly under Norman Osborn and Connor's immediate superior. He wanted an update on developments from Connors most recent experiments.

"We received the results from the mRNA sequences this morning," said Connors, solemn, tapping his fingertips absently on his deck. "They were disappointing."

Far from pleased, flatly, Dr. Ratha prompted "So define 'disappointing'."

Elaborating, Connors said "Another dead end. It's the decay rate algorithm. But this is to be expected."

"Expected," said Dr. Ratha, aghast, tone of voice indicating his tolerance was thin. "You said you were close."

"We are close, but it's gonna to take time," said Connors, imploringly.

"He doesn't have time. Norman Osborn is dying Dr. Connors," said Dr. Ratha.

From the corner of his eye Connors saw his daughter nearly back at his office returning from the restroom. This conversation is about to become no longer private.

Clearing his throat, subtly nodding in her direction, Connors advised "Perhaps we should continue this another time when the time is more agreeable. As usual I'll keep you informed regularly."

"You'd better find the cure soon. Save him, Dr. Connors," warned Dr. Ratha, rising to leave, recognizing a retreat was in order. "Or we'll both lose our heads." He crossed paths with Phoebe when he exited.

So to avoid getting bumped by Dr. Ratha Phoebe took a step away from the doorway allowing the man to pass first. His expression was blank and tense leaving her wondering what caused him to be so agitated. It wasn't uncommon for Phoebe to see the man out of sorts after a meeting with her father.

Shutting the door, Phoebe asked "What was that all about?"

Deflating in the chair, Connors sighed "The usual. How the department isn't progressing fast enough for Osborn's liking."

"Ha! Maybe he should come here, do all these experiments himself if he wants everything perfect so badly. You should tell him that, Papa," suggested Phoebe.

"And be dismissed as consequence," scoffed Connors, shaking his head. "No, I don't think I will, though the idea is tempting."

Shrugging, slipping into the seat Dr. Ratha vacated, Phoebe arranged the food she bough between them.

Connors asked "So, Phoebe, why have you really come to visit?"

"What do you mean," denied Phoebe, evasive.

"Phoebe," scolded Connors, "I can see it in your eyes. There's something weighing heavily on your mind."

Stiffening, Phoebe admitted "It's the Emerging Authors Competition Miss Zorski told my class about. I'm not going to enter."

"What," said Connors, surprised. "But Phoebe you're a magnificent writer. You've always written such fabulous short stories for school."

"But that's the thing, Papa, I've hit a major severe case of writers block," said Phoebe. "What if I lose my muse?"

Rubbing his hand soothingly over Phoebe's knuckles in comfort, Connors said "You'll find your muse, Darling. Trust me. A story will come to you. You just need to wait patiently."

"All right, Papa, I will," said Phoebe, smiling, grateful.

"Good," said Connors, waving his hand at the food, "now show me what you've brought. Our lunch is cooling by the minute."

Father and daughter proceeded with their afternoon meal blissfully ignorant of the figure observing intently from the shadows.