Chapter warnings:
Nothing too bad.
Discussion about suicide and suicide ideation, I tried to go light on it this time around though.
Also, graphic depictions of blood. Don't worry, nobody gets injured but blood is talked about in depth because Science.
Obscene usage of fake and/or only mildly-researched science.
And Peter casually downplays his own trauma. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kinda thing, but I just wanted to state that for the record. It will come up again later.
Mostly fluffy comfort.
—*—*—*—*—*
"Are you okay?" Ned asked, making me look up from me and Peter's work. Our chemistry project was due at the end of the week, so we were just finishing up the last mechanical pieces in class before putting all our prepared stuff together at his place. Peter had already asked me the same question after picking me up that morning, and after the whole almost-killing-Hank-and-running-away thing that happened the previous day? I didn't blame him.
The whole class was relaxed, working on their individual projects and chatting as they did. Considering there was nothing keeping me from replying in that case, I just sighed.
"I'm fine, Ned, why?"
"You've been quiet all day," he said without looking up as he and MJ worked together on their own project. We had pushed our lab tables together so we could work and talk at the same time. I rubbed the back of my neck, watching Peter's hands carefully as he showed me how to connect the pieces of our device without talking. Despite his eyes remaining firmly on our project, I knew he was listening.
"Rough day yesterday." I said dismissively. "I'm just tired, that's all."
I caught Peter looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and shook my head slightly. I didn't want to talk about it with MJ or Ned. Or anyone really, but I knew Peter wouldn't accept that. Peter sighed a little under his breath, but went back to silently showing me how the mechanical parts connected.
"What was that?" MJ asked, eyes moving between us as she put down the tool she was working with. Her lip twisted up slightly in one corner. "Were you guys seriously communicating silently?"
"Ned hasn't gotten a handle on that yet, so I had to pick up the slack," I quipped, making Peter snort. Ned stuck his tongue out at me, and something in me relaxed a little. This was normal, it was good.
"Uh huh," MJ still hadn't lost her smirk. "Is that all?" I took her challenge, grinning and raising both eyebrows.
"I can technically communicate silently with anyone that knows sign," I signed, and even though MJ didn't speak sign language she got my point and snorted. Peter, who had snapped to attention the moment I had risen my hands, outright laughed. He translated for Ned, who had looked confused.
"I hope you guys are working more than you're talking," the warning voice of the teacher remarked, making us duck our heads and continue working. Except MJ, who just shot the teacher a thumbs up and a grin before going back to helping Ned.
"There," Peter said with a grin. "The artificial heart is done. How are you doing, Hebi?"
I looked down at where I had been absently molding chicken wire, trimming it and getting rid of any sharp edges. "Mold is good," I assured him. "And I snapped the pieces of our stand together earlier," I patted the metal object.
"Awesome!" My friend grinned widely at me, and I couldn't help but reciprocate. "Now all we have to do is fit our skin grafts on the mold, put all the inorganic pieces together, and fill it up with blood."
"Do you think the blood vessels will survive?" I asked, frowning. Keeping the skin alive on the mold was going to be tricky. We already had the artificial heart to pump blood through the blood vessels and under the skin to keep it warm, but it was all artificial and we had no idea if it would work. Peter tilted his head, and then looked back at me. He reached out a hand to lay it on my shoulder, but redirected it to the desk when he saw me tense.
"Don't worry, Hebi," he said to deflect from the awkwardness of the aborted motion. "Even if it doesn't, we can just pump the blood through a series of glass tubing instead to show the reaction. It won't be as cool, but it will work."
I nodded, grinning down at our materials. Yeah, either way we had a cool presentation to give.
"Oh yeah!" I sat up straight in my seat at a sudden thought. "I almost forgot! The package from the veterinary hospital arrived this morning. They got us rattlesnake and black widow venom, three vials of each. Did your dad clear it with the school for us to bring it?"
Peter nodded, getting excited all over again. "Yup! We need a responsible adult to bring it for us, but as long as a teacher monitors us the whole time we can use it in our presentation. Okay, so let me show you how to flush the system out between demonstrations…"
I watched as he both pointed to parts of the mechanical heart and drew diagrams in a notebook to show me how the flushing process would work and look. I nodded, this part coming easier than the fine points of mechanics.
"Awesome. And I'll do the measurements of the water after each flush to make sure the second batch of blood isn't contaminated," I ran by him. "Think you can stall for time so nobody gets bored?" Peter shrugged.
"If you give me an idea of what to say so I don't stutter too much," he compromised. I nodded with a smirk.
"Get some public speaking tips from your dad. Or don't, actually, if I remember how his most memorable speech was really just three words," Peter snorted, and I tilted my head in thought. "You can get a crash course from my dad instead. He has to convince people to agree with him every day, I'm pretty sure he can give you tips on how to keep crowds focused on you."
"It's a school project, not a state competition," Ned interrupted us, looking like he was simultaneously disappointed in us and only half a step away from bursting into laughter. Peter and I shared a look, then looked back at Ned with synchronized shrugs.
"Who knows? We might choose to enter this in a contest," Peter started.
"We might as well get our act together now just in case," I finished with a decisive nod. MJ rolled her eyes, and Ned shook his head.
"They're a lost cause, aren't they?" Ned asked with dismay. MJ raised an eyebrow at him.
"Like they ever weren't?"
"Yeah, good point."
It wasn't until after school that Peter pulled me aside, making an excuse to Ned and MJ that he was gonna walk me part of the way home. I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"So, uh," Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you wanna talk about what happened last night? I know I already kinda yelled at you this morning, but… You really worried me. And Bucky, Aunt Nat, and Uncle Clint were all acting weird. They told me they couldn't tell me anything because then you wouldn't trust us, which I totally get because you don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready to—"
"Peter, breathe," I interrupted, frowning. I was used to his rambling, but mixed with his concern and need to explain himself he had made himself breathless. He took a breath, looking at me apologetically.
"Just… are you really okay? Tony and I overheard some of you and your dad's talk this morning and I'm still worried about you because of it. I want to help, if I can. However I can."
I looked into Peter's eyes, knowing I was losing this battle of wills between us. I knew he had overheard some of me and Matt's discussion. The jerk had probably known they were there the whole time, while I had been too focused on him to notice until he actually mentioned Spider-Man. Maybe that was why he phrased certain things so that my secrets weren't busted.
He wanted them to overhear, probably anticipating something very similar to what was happening with Peter right that moment.
I sighed, running a hand through my bangs. "I figured you had heard," I admitted. "We need to finish our science projects anyway, so is it okay if I come over? I can explain some things while we're there."
"Are you allowed to?" Peter asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "It sounded like you were being punished."
"Punished?" I asked, blinking as I was slightly caught off guard. "No. Matt was mad, but he wouldn't punish me for that. Not like you are thinking, anyway. Keeping me at home would be counterintuitive," I shifted my weight on my feet. "No, he just gave me a new rule. I have to tell him exactly who I'm visiting, call or text when I get there, and let him know when I plan to get home. No more running around town with vague notions of where I'm going or when I'll be back," I told my friend. "I'm used to nobody having that kind of authority over me, or not caring enough about me to make that sort of rule, so I was a little mad at first. That's all."
Something I couldn't quite identify swept over Peter's face as he listened to me, but was replaced by relief at the end when everything sunk in.
"Oh, that's good," he breathed happily. "It's okay with me. I'll call my dad while you call yours?"
"Deal."
Five minutes later, we were climbing into the back of a sleek black car that Happy was driving. Both of our parents were asked and approved of the visit, so all that was left to deal with was a Happy that was slightly annoyed at being made to wait.
But he was always a little grumpy, so Peter and I just ignored it. We made a quick stop at me and Matt's apartment so I could grab the venom before making it the rest of the way to the Tower.
"Hey, there she is!" Clint greeted as soon as Peter and I entered the common room. I glanced up at him, seeing him and the other two in charge of training me sitting around the kitchen counter. I rode an eyebrow, and could have sworn I saw Clint's shoulders relax a bit once he saw me.
Nah, there was no way. I was still too dangerous for him to care that much about me.
I gave them a weak smile and a little wave.
"What'dya got there?" Bucky asked, nodding to the reinforced box that the venom was in. I adjusted the box's strap on my shoulder, and gently patted it with one hand.
"Venom for me and Pete's chemistry project," I answered smoothly. Their eyebrows raised. "Western Diamondback rattlesnake, and black widow. As promised, in tribute to the woman who kicks my ass every Sunday now," I extended one arm in a slightly dramatic bow, earning a snort and chuckle from Peter for my troubles. "I'll leave it here while Pete and I get everything ready for our trial runs."
"You know what Hebi was telling me earlier today?" Peter asked, bouncing on his heels as I set the box down on the counter between the three ex-assassins. I knew at least two of them wouldn't trust me to take it into the room alone with Peter, so it was best to just show my goodwill and leave it with them for the time being. "She said that our test would prove you have a heart, Aunt Nat!"
"What?" The redhead asked, and I turned to give Peter a betrayed look.
"You said you wouldn't tell her!"
Peter ignored me.
"Because hardly any black widow bites are actually deadly," My traitor of a best friend said with a large smile. "In fact, is the past year none of the Black Widow bites reported were fatal. It won't have very many visual effects on the model we're doing for class, so in a way it's like saying you're not bad like a lot of people started thinking after your data dump."
The dump that exposed Natasha's former career as spy and assassin for the world to goggle and gasp at.
I never really liked how people started questioning how much of a hero she was after that dump.
I turned away resolutely from the three so that I didn't see Natasha's reaction (if she even had a visible one to see in the first place), and walked down to Peter's room.
"I'm gonna drop my stuff off. Do you need me to get anything?"
Peter shook his head. "Just the glass stuff on my desk that we worked on last time."
—*—*—*—*—*
Hebi nodded at Peter, and walked off to set her backpack down and ran what he had asked for. That left him alone with the three who knew more about Hebi than he clearly did.
"She's been acting like nothing happened yesterday unless you bring it up," he told them softly, frowning. All three of them were focused on him as the teen leaned over the counter towards them. "But… Me and Tony overheard some really scary things she was talking about with her dad this morning, and I'm worried about her. Can you guys talk to her later, before she leaves?"
Bucky, Clint, and Nat shared a glance.
"What kind of things?" Nat asked quietly, but Peter shook his head.
"Maybe she'll tell you, but it feels wrong to say it without her permission. I don't know what it has to do with her past, but… I think she was about to do something horrible last night if Mister Murdock hadn't found her first."
They traded a glance again, and Bucky nodded.
"We'll see if we can catch her before she leaves, Pete. Now go work on your project."
The young vigilante gave them a relieved smile, and nodded before jogging off after Hebi. Once he was gone, the three Avengers were left alone with the box of venom. Clint ran a hand through his hair.
"She still thinks we don't trust her, doesn't she?"
"Without a doubt," Natasha confirmed. "And she isn't really wrong."
"But she's not right, either," Bucky agreed. "We'll go over it during that talk."
The other two nodded.
—*—*—*—*—*
Peter and Hebi went through the basic planning stages without bringing up the elephant in the room at all. It wasn't until they got down into one of the chemistry labs with everything set up in front of them for assembly that Hebi sighed and let her shoulders drop.
Recognizing the signs of someone letting their walls down, Peter instantly shot his head up to give her his full attention. Trying to figure out what to say first, the girl twirled a longer section of her bangs with two fingers for a moment. When she let go, it popped free of her fingers in a slight curl. Peter tried to focus on that instead of futilely trying to predict what she was going to say.
"First off, yes the argument with Hank and I started because I'm keeping a secret from you," the teen started, making sure to keep eye contact with Peter. "First off, that was really hypocritical of him to bring up when he hid the whole Ant-Man and Wasp thing from Hope even after what happened with his wife, but that's beside the point. I don't think he understands, he can't really relate to my reasoning," she ran a hand over her forehead. "I can't… I don't want to tell you yet, if I'm honest. But it isn't because of lack of trust or any other bullshit Hank tried to spout. I trust you, okay? I need you to know that."
Peter nodded, offering her a small but bright smile. "I get it. It's like the Spider-Man thing, right? Except, maybe not so dangerous. Sometimes it's just hard to tell people things, it's fine."
Hebi let out a breathy chuckle, her eyes shining with gratefulness. "Not like I let you vault me up to the eighth floor of a burning building without a second thought or anything," she quipped. The two of them chuckled at that for a moment before getting back on track. "So. Yes, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky know. Widow and Hawkbutt found out from their background check on me, and Bucky had to be clued in once we started training together. I'm," the young woman's lips twisted into something halfway between a smirk and a sneer, though it was obviously directed at herself. "I'm really fucked up, Pete," she admitted softly. "It's bad. Everything you know about me is like the quick notes, just a brief overview of the biggest things that happened. Bucky… Bucky helps the most. Nat and Clint are cool too, it helps me relax when they're there. Even if Natasha still treats me like a landmine," she grinned softly at the last part she said.
"I'm good with screwed up," Peter said, immediately reddening and backtracking when Hebi looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "That's not—that came out wrong. I meant that it's okay to not be okay, but you shouldn't refer to yourself as 'screwed up,' that's not healthy. But, like, all the Avengers have been through some pretty traumatic stuff. They all have their own triggers and issues, and that's fine. They're still my family, you know?" Peter started nervously fiddling with a slender glass tube as if it was a pencil, twirling it through his fingers. "And I'm not the picture of perfect mental health, either. I have some… minor issues I don't like to think about. But I can handle that. Not being okay. I know how to deal with it," he looked up from the glass tube to meet her eyes despite the pink still tinging his cheeks. "I can help with 'not okay.' But I can't help you if you don't give me something to work with. You can be vague, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but," he set the tube down to lean over the lab table towards her a bit. He needed her to understand. "But I want to help. You're my friend, Hebi, and I want to be able to help you."
The former child assassin looked into his eyes, registered the sincerity there, and melted a little. But the voice still repeated in her head:
You're dangerous. You're deadly. You're selfish. You'll kill him. All of them. You'll break their necks and choke their throats and watch the blood vessels in their eyes pop.
Peter will take back everything he just said if he knew he was talking to a dirty murderer.
Hebi gripped the edge of the table, grateful the metal was strong enough to hold up against a portion of her strength without trouble. Still, she erred on the side of caution and watched how much strength she put into her fingers.
I'm getting better, she thought furiously. I won't be who they made me into. Not anymore. Not ever again.
"You heard a bit of it," she said out loud, still looking down at her fingers as they turned white against the steel grey of their workplace. "There was a time where survival was the most important thing, the only thing worth worrying about, but I don't like what that life made me. I didn't like myself. I still don't like that part of me," she raised her head to look into Peter's eyes, and all her friend could think about was how someone without bags under their eyes could look so profoundly exhausted. "My argument with Hank stirred up a bit of bad memories, and bad feelings. I was reminded of who I am, who I was," she scrubbed at her forehead with one hand. "I was scared that I would never change. That that ugly side of me will never go away. So yes, I walked up to the top of a skyscraper and just sat at the edge without any parachute or webs or wings or anything to save me if I fell," she met his eyes again for a split second before looking away. "In the end I guess I'd rather die than hurt anyone innocent now, let alone one of my friends."
Peter blinked. For a second, he looked down at his own hands and then back up at his friend. He took in the sorrow in her hazel eyes, the slight slump to her shoulders, the way her left hand had never stopped clutching the table. And he understood. Not exactly what happened, not what she was keeping from him, but the biggest thing she was telling him right then? He understood.
"You know, I can stop a three thousand pound car going forty miles an hour in less than two seconds," he said softly, watching her expression as it clouded with confusion. "With my bare hands. I can lift over twelve tons. But do you know who Spider-Man fights most of the time? Thugs. Muggers. Corner store robbers, would-be rapists. Only a few of the criminals I fight are ever enhanced, but I have enough physical strength to kill a grown man with one hand," he looked down at his palm. "If I judge the strength behind just one of my punches or kicks wrong, I could kill. Thankfully I already knew that before I started this whole vigilante thing, or else I'd have some bigger issues to deal with mentally," he grinned lopsidedly up at her even though his eyes remained serious. She was focused by then, all her attention on him as the confusion was cleared away word by word.
"I get it," Peter told her. "Being afraid of hurting people. I still get a little nervous every time I spar with my family. If I lose control for even a second…" he clenched his hands into fists at the thought. "I put a lot of effort into controlling my strength because of it. Uncle Steve says he forgets about my super strength sometimes, because I don't accidentally crush things when I'm mad like him or Uncle Bucky do every now and then. But struggling with something doesn't make you bad," he smiled at her softly. "It's okay to be scared. If you can spar with Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint well enough for them to clear you to be a vigilante almost immediately, then you've got to already be good enough of a fighter for your body to be a weapon. But you are in control of your body, not the other way around. Killing yourself isn't a solution," his gaze softened even further, something Hebi hadn't thought possible. "It's just turning that violence you're trying to control on yourself."
Hebi looked down, starting to piece together some of the pieces of their project to hide the way his words affected her.
"If you need someone to talk to about it, I'm here. I know I talk a lot, but I think I'm a pretty good listener too."
Hebi smiled at that, feeling her eyes sting. She wouldn't cry, but her eyes were still a little wetter than usual.
"Thanks, Pete. I promise, I'm going to try my hardest not to give those suicide thoughts too much attention. It won't happen overnight, but I'll fight it."
Peter nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. "Let's do this; on a scale from one to ten you'll tell me how broken or close to hurting yourself you are. One is you feeling really good, a ten is you climbing a skyscraper again. We'll call it your Glass Scale, to record how close to breaking you are. Okay?"
Hebi looked up and rose an eyebrow at him. "And what will that do, exactly?"
Peter grinned. "If it's anything above a seven, I'll force you to eat ice cream and listen to me tell you how awesome you are," he said cheerfully, making Hebi laugh. "Seriously though, anything above a seven means I'll help however I can to bring that number down again. Even if it means calling your dad and letting him take over. We'll also have a Hulk Scale. One to ten on how angry you are."
Hebi snorted. "Doctor Banner would be so annoyed if he knew about that scale," she said, sounding the least burdened she had all day. Peter laughed.
"But the Hulk would be flattered!"
"Okay, enough gross feeling talk," Hebi said with a roll of her eyes. "Let's work on our project before I break into hives."
"God, you sound like Dad," Peter complained even though he was still smiling. He didn't say anything else though, instead bending over the table to help Hebi assemble the glass walls and tubing, metal, and chicken wire mold together.
Hebi held the glass pieces in place as Peter welded them with a tiny torch— the glass tubes were small, so the tool had to match. The chicken wire mold was missing one side, where the grafted skin would end and meet the glass wall. It would allow a cross-section view for the audience, but Peter had to weld two tiny glass tubes to the glass wall. The tubes would feed the blood in the mold through them and back into the artificial heart so that there were no spills, and instead a continual cycle of blood would be formed.
Once the glass parts were welded together, they welded any metal parts needed together, and attached the metal to the glass with a strong adhesive.
"This is going to be air and watertight, right?" Hebi asked, not recognizing the adhesive since the bottle was unlabeled except for a scrawling of what it was and the major components in it in messy handwriting. Peter beamed up at her.
"Of course," he said with a slight bow of his head since he was busy helping her hold the pieces they were gluing together. "I made this formula myself. I've been using it for months now, it will work wonders."
His words made his friend's eyes widen with realization. "Shit! I totally forgot that you being Spider-Man means the webs are yours!" She badly wanted to point at him, but they had moved on to glue more metal and glass together. "You made it, right? When I was doing my research on you out of envy for that damn formula, I figured you must have made it yourself. Videos of you using it date back before Iron Man showed up and upgraded you."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You looked that far? How did you not figure out who I was? As Dad never forgets to remind me, I was shit at hiding my secret identity back then."
"You still are," Hebi deadpanned. "Let's just say it's because I respected your identity."
"...Dad encrypted any videos or information that might give me away, didn't he?"
"The guy is fucking meticulous," Hebi agreed instantly. "Couldn't find a damn thing that wasn't hidden behind top level firewalls I couldn't crack."
Peter pouted. "So you didn't respect my identity," he teased, making her roll her eyes.
"I wanted to march to Spider-Man's door and demand the formula. Well, I actually wanted to sneak through his window and steal it, but the first one makes me sound more law-abiding. I respected Peter Parker's privacy, Spider-Man didn't mean much of anything to me until I found out he was you."
The brunette blinked wide eyes, stunned speechless for a moment. If Hebi hadn't been too busy assembling their project, she would have felt smug at achieving the near-impossible.
"I don't know whether to feel insulted or deeply touched," the boy admitted after a long moment of open-mouthed gaping.
"I always respected you as a vigilante," Hebi said with a shrug. "But I didn't have any real opinion on you past that. Like, I would have helped if I saw you in mortal danger but I wouldn't have really thought twice about punching you if you got in my way, you know?" She smiled as most of their project was set up, and got out the wire mold to fit it inside. Peter held it in place with tweezers for her while she welded the wire in place to the two small metal rods for just that purpose. "Peter Parker was the guy who didn't hesitate to become my friend. He was the 'you' that mattered from the beginning. I didn't know Spider-Man. Until I did," she grinned up at him.
Peter was blushing, which amused Hebi and made her tilt her head. "What? I'm just saying the truth," she admitted, slight confusion in her voice.
Peter mentally jotted down that, despite her many strengths, Hebi was emotionally oblivious as his face got even redder.
"I'll get the blood!" He squeaked, running over to the mini fridge that kept a few bags of blood that Bruce had let them have. Since the Avengers got badly wounded on a regular basis, blood bags were a constant in the Tower's med bay, and they wouldn't miss a few. All normal, of course. Peter had to donate blood whenever possible for his own emergency supply since his blood was slightly radioactive and his body wouldn't accept normal blood, just like most Enhanced in the building. Steve and Bucky were compatible, which made things slightly easier, and most other people were normal as far as blood went. Still, they couldn't use radioactive blood—as cool as that would have been. For one, it could react to the venom in a weird way they wouldn't be able to explain in class. For two, it would expose at least Peter's life in Avenger's Tower if not his identity as a whole.
So, normal blood.
Peter came back to Hebi with a one-pint bag in hand, and they worked in focused silence as they transferred the blood into their artificial heart. Hebi had already fitted their skin graft onto the mold, and fit the edges into the prepared grooves of glass that would catch any blood that wanted to spill. To make sure it stayed waterproof, she went around the outside edges of skin with a skin-safe liquid plastic to seal any cracks that they couldn't see. She had also run the first flushing sequence to sterilize the section the blood would go into, and taken the first water readings to make sure it was good to go.
Peter had stayed in front of the fridge for several minutes to cool down his blushing face, if his long stalling time hadn't already been made apparent.
Once the blood was in the heart, they cleaned up their work space, sealed the whole device up, and started the pumping sequence. Hebi beamed in pride as they saw the blood pump like it would in a normal body. From any angle they wanted, they could watch through the glass as the skin gently pulsed in an imitation of life, the blood vessels bright red as they filled with blood and oxygen for the first time since the teens collected it from the lab it had been grown in for their project. The Asian squealed in delight, giving her best friend a high-five as they watched their successful closed-circuit biology system work flawlessly.
"No leaks! No contamination! The skin is healthy and alive, it's working!" Peter said happily. Hebi was bouncing up and down, not noticing her friend watching her closely out of the corner of his eye. He had never seen her so purely happy, so he soaked it in while he could. The bad day she had had the previous night just made him even more determined to watch her good moments as often as he could.
"Okay, ready for the reaction tests?" Hebi asked, eyes glinting with excitement. Peter couldn't help but smile widely, chest filling with that same excitement after seeing how their project affected Hebi.
"Heck yeah!" He agreed enthusiastically. "Rock paper scissors for who gets to test the rattlesnake venom?" He asked, knowing that that reaction would be the coolest and therefore testing it was the position of honor in their little team. The glint in the girl's eyes changed from excitement to challenge, and her grin matched it.
"You are so on," she rose her fist up in the starting position, and she and Peter began the first round. They swung their fists out, and—
Hebi chose scissors, Peter chose rock.
"Best two out of three!" Hebi shouted immediately, making Peter laugh. She glared at him playfully. "You know that it's always two out of three when battling for something!"
Peter held his hands up in surrender, still chucking. "Sure, whatever," he agreed easily. "I'll just win again anyway, you can't beat Spider-Man," he teased. Hebi narrowed her eyes.
"Oh really? Then get ready for round two, Mister High-and-mighty."
In the end, Peter actually did win. Hebi had tied them in the second round, but the boy had pulled forward again in the last.
"Dang it," Hebi groused, dramatically leaning over the table in defeat. "How could I have lost? Is it because it requires no strategy and Peter is just better than me at not thinking?"
"Hey!" Peter cried indignantly through his laughter at her melodrama. "You still can't make a simple single-operation robotic arm, you don't get to make digs at me yet!" He teased right back. Hebi stuck her tongue out at him. Once neither of them were laughing anymore, Hebi went over and opened the large padded box. Inside, nestled carefully in six perfectly-fitted holes in a stiff foam block, were six glass vials. Each was carefully labeled. There were gloves and syringes also in the box. Peter and Hebi both slipped on the gloves and a pair of safety goggles, and Peter took out one vial of rattlesnake venom first.
They were working with a lot more than what was needed for just one pint of blood, but that was just so that the reaction happened fast enough for their presentation. This, however, also meant that they were working with a dose far higher than what was needed to be lethal so they needed to take extreme precaution. Hebi spotted Peter as he sucked the venom out with his syringe, and she opened the small glass door in the top of their display for him.
Carefully, Peter injected the syringe into the skin and blood, pushing the venom slowly into both. Once the whole sample was in, he carefully put the syringe into the disposal bin for dangerous or contaminated lab items and shut the small glass door in the top of the display.
Both teens gathered in front of the cross-section viewing side of their project, and watched as the venom worked through the artificial system and congealed the blood. Hebi shut off the artificial heart once the blood got too thick, to make sure the machine didn't clog or break. After a long moment, Hebi and Peter shared another large smile.
It worked.
Everything worked!
The two worked together as they emptied out the blood and started the flushing system, once again sterilizing the whole thing before fitting in the second pint of blood.
"Ready?" Peter asked, watching Hebi do the same procedure for the Black Widow venom despite it being much less dangerous. She smiled at him, but her hands were steady despite her enthusiasm. She wasn't letting her nerves get the best of her.
"I got the boring part this time, but yes," she agreed easily. Carefully, she injected the venom into a different site than the rattlesnake injection site, and they watched the effect. As already anticipated, there were no real changes to the blood. Instead, there was a bump and red swelling around the injection area, and Hebi grinned. It was perfect to compare the injection site of the two venoms, and their chemical effects on skin as well as blood.
After removing their gloves, the students high-fived again. "Oh this is awesome," Hebi gushed. "We're gonna get an A for sure." Peter snorted.
"Please, if Miss Harrison doesn't ask us to submit this to a science competition, I'll be shocked."
Hebi looked at their project, pursing her lips. "This is only the second month of school though," she said slowly. "We can do something way better for a competition closer to the end of the year if we keep working together. And if we find a competition for small groups and invite Ned?"
Peter shook his head. "We'd be unbeatable. That's unfair for the other competitors," he said with mock sorrow. Hebi just put a hand on his shoulder in equally fake consolation.
"Too bad we don't care about fair if it isn't against the rules. Now let's flush the system, switch out the skin graft, and get everything ready for Friday. The day, not the A.I.— sorry FRI."
"No worries, Hebi," the A.I. replied casually.
—*—*—*—*—*
Peter and I had packed up everything, keeping the project (we had decided to name it the Mini Synthetic Organism Test Vessel, M.S.O.T.V or just T.V for short) running on a normal pump rhythm. It had fresh skin and blood, and the mechanical heart would keep it alive until presentation day. Peter and I had adjusted it to absorb oxygen from the air for the blood, so it would act also like a set of lungs.
I was so proud of us. The Heart ran on electrical energy, so while it was plugged into the Tower it would be running entirely on clean energy. Peter had told me that he and Tony were working on smaller, less expensive versions of Arc energy, so that more places could run cleanly. It was insurance hell for the time being, but I had faith that they'd work that out eventually.
Still. It could be huge for research and education purposes. I was ecstatic— it would also help me with my own research. Which made me blink in realization.
"Hey, Pete?" He looked over at me. "Do you think we could make a second T.V for me to use for my personal project? We can keep it here if you want, or you can put a tracker in it if you want to make sure—" I paused when Peter started laughing at me, and frowned. He just patted my back, looking at me with his stupid doe brown eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Why would I put a tracker in it? It's both of our invention. Besides, I trust you."
Those three words echoed in my head for a long moment, and I found myself grinning like an idiot. Peter rolled his eyes fondly.
"Honestly, Hebi. I know you wouldn't sell it or anything; you run your own successful small business so you don't need the money, and you don't care about fame. Just give me time to get all the stuff, and you can I can work on it together next weekend or something."
Looking into his eyes, I still had that dopey grin on my face. "Thanks, Parker-Stark," I said, punching his shoulder. He snorted, rubbing the spot where I punched him.
"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do that lightly," he teased. I raised an eyebrow.
"That wasn't lightly?"
"For a Vigilante? Yes. For a supposed-to-be-normal teenager? No. Not at all," he informed me, making me tilt my head a bit.
"I know. But we're not normal, so why should I pretend? I knew I wouldn't hurt you."
I knew I wouldn't hurt him?
That was new. I was caught off guard by my own assurance, but Peter didn't notice and just judged me playfully. What the hell is up with me being so comfortable around this guy? I wondered, mystified. I couldn't help but stare at his back as he went to get drinks, barely lucid enough to agree when he asked if I wanted a soda. First I trust him with my life, and then I trust myself not to hurt him? I mean, I was relaxed and it wasn't a dangerous thing, but still. What the hell?
My thought process was interrupted not long after Peter handed me my soda and I took a sip. The interrupter was none other than Bucky using-my-hero-worship-against-me Barnes. His eyes were gentle as he gentle jerked his head to the side to indicate an open elevator door. I raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"Welp, I'll leave you two to have a totally normal conversation. I think I forgot to do Physics homework. Bye!" Peter said awkwardly, all but running to his room.
Okay, something was up and Peter was trying (and epically failing) to hide it. I took my gaze off of Peter's now-disappeared back, and put it back on my hero. The former assassin rubbed the back of his head.
"We're working on his ability to keep a secret, I swear," was the first thing he said. "It isn't going very well, but we're trying. Anyway, come on. I wanna talk to you in private. My floor?"
Knowing I wouldn't be able to refuse him, I sighed and took a deep sip from my soda before sighing. "Yeah let's go."
When we arrived in his and Steve's living room, Clint and Natasha were already lounging on the sofa in there and I froze.
"Fucking hell, this is an intervention," I realized it loud, turning back to the elevator. Too bad for me, the doors closed and Bucky gently herded me to the couches with his flesh arm. I grumbled, but went along as I sipped at my soda moodily.
"Look, guys, I've had a surprisingly good day today. Flash ignored us, Peter and I totally nailed our project, I actually feel good. Can we skip the emotion talk?"
"Nope," they all said at once, making me sink back into the cushions with a groan of despair.
"Peter wouldn't give us specifics, but he said he thinks you were close to doing something horrible yesterday," Clint started gently, leaning forward over his knees. "Considering how vague of a statement that is, do you want to elaborate? You know, pretending that Bucky and Nat didn't track you to that skyscraper five minutes before your dad got there. Don't worry, they didn't eavesdrop or read lips."
"We have some decency," Nat agreed. I sighed, rubbing a hand through my bangs.
"I argued with Hank."
"Yeah, we got that," Bucky said with a nod. "But maybe you should explain how an argument lead to… that."
"I don't know!" I admitted, frustrated. I set my soda down heavily on the coffee table. "Usually I'd just brush off things like that without a second thought. Hank was just being an ass, giving me a hard time. It was nowhere near bad enough to have gotten under my skin!"
"But it did," Nat prodded, head slightly tilted to one side as she analyzed me face. I nodded dumbly, my hands limp from where they dropped between my knees with my forearms laid across my legs.
"I got mad. I don't know why, I just did. Next thing I know, I'm breaking down how to kill Hank, Hope, and Scott, what methods I'd use, how long it would take, and how I'd escape. I didn't even fully realize what I was doing until I saw my hand clutching that damn lamp," the room was eerily silent, and I leaned further forward, clutching my head between my hands. "God, they looked scared even though they don't know everything I can do. They know I'm Boa, yeah, but they don't know anything else. They don't know about Dryad. That's what finished waking me up, seeing them all getting ready for a fight."
"Scott told us," Clint admitted softly. "He came here about half an hour after you left, according to him, and since I told him about us knowing about you being Boa, he just gushed about the whole thing. He's not good at keeping things in, you know that," the archer explained softly. I just nodded. "We kinda figured it was bad, but…"
"We didn't think it was that bad," Bucky admitted. "I had a feeling, but I hoped it wasn't what I thought. Nat and Clint were convinced that you were just about to punch him or something, but unfortunately what you just said makes more sense with the whole skyscraper thing. I thought you were gonna jump, Hebi."
I laughed humorlessly. "I almost did," I whispered my confession. "It's hell. Thinking I was close to killing my friends. Two seconds away from doing something I'd never be able to reverse," Bucky gently removed my hands from the sides of my head before I tore out hair. I let him. "I don't want to be that person anymore, but it's a part of me and that was a horrible fucking reminder of that fact. I wasn't brainwashed," I looked up at Bucky, not wanting to know what my face looked at right then. Probably pathetic. "It was always me. A different part, but I was always conscious. I always made my decisions consciously no matter how much I hated them," I rubbed at my face. "Nobody can ever make a valid argument for me not being responsible for that shit I did. Dryad made killing a part of me, and all I've ever wanted since I escaped was to get rid of that side. I thought running away and pretending it never existed would work, but I was so stupid," my nails were digging into my pants, and once again Bucky had to draw them away before I hurt myself. I didn't fight him. "So I thought that killing myself would solve it. If I can't get rid of a side of me, get rid of the whole infected thing, you know? It makes sense. If I don't want to hurt anybody, I just have to get rid of the danger."
"But you didn't jump," Clint reminded me, still talking softly and kindly. "You let your dad take you back. You had a good day today. What changed?"
I took a deep breath. "I got selfish," I gave the three of them a lopsided smile. "I realized that I was saving people as Boa. I don't think it registered before yesterday that Boa actually saves lives. I thought about the building fire. And how I need to keep Daredevil from killing himself on patrol," I leaned back in my seat, staring up at the ceiling. "I realized I wanted to make sure my friends stayed alive, with my own eyes. I still don't like myself, I don't know if I ever will," I lowered my head to look at the three. "But what I realized up there, and with what Matt and Peter have said to me… I think I can try putting up with myself in order to make sure they're okay. Maybe I can reverse just a little of the blood on my hands by saving as many people as I can instead of just jumping towards death."
Bucky gave me a small smile, and Natasha and Clint leaned back with fairly satisfied looks on their faces.
"It still sucks, and I'm still pissed at Hank and disgusted with myself though, so tips would be appreciated because this isn't just an uphill battle, it's fucking rock wall climbing. With no rope. In the ass crack of winter. While being ambushed by angry ninjas."
Natasha snorted at my description, which gave me a tiny trill of satisfaction.
"It sucks," Bucky agreed, taking a breath. "And I don't think anyone else can relate besides me, which is a good thing but not necessarily great if you're looking for a bunch of different opinions," he leaned back and crossed his arms. I watched as his eyes filled with soft vulnerability, making me sit up at attention.
"I almost killed Steve once. And not the barely-stopped-myself-from-attacking sort of close, either. In the barely-stopped-myself-from-finishing-it kind of way," he confessed. Suddenly feeling as if my lungs were empty, I drew in a deep breath. That was heavy shit. "What's worse is that Steve almost let me," he was staring up at the ceiling, just like I had a few minutes earlier. "And yeah, I could just blame it on the brainwashing. But that feels cheap, because it's still my body, still my mind," he lowered his face to look at me. His eyes were sharper and stronger than I was used to, making me tense. "So stop saying that you can't blame brainwashing, as if I'm more innocent than you for some reason. I feel that guilt just as badly, because I should have been in control of myself but I wasn't. I wasn't strong enough to fight their brainwashing, and that hurts just as badly. Secondly, I'm pretty sure I've said this before but saying that you weren't brainwashed is bullshit," I blinked rapidly, caught off guard by his swear. I hadn't had him directing that language at me before. "It is. They broke you when you were a child, at least I was already an adult when I was taken. They convinced you the only way to survive was to follow what they said, and you believed them because you were a kid and there was nothing else to believe. It's okay to feel guilty about what you did, I'd be a hypocrite to say you shouldn't, but the blame doesn't lie on you as much as you think it does and you need to know that."
I looked down at my lap.
"I mean, it could be worse," Natasha spoke up, her voice too casual. "You could have remained an assassin until you were an adult and didn't have an excuse. You could have been too weak to find and take the chance to escape," I let just my eyes move to look at her, only to find her staring right at me unflinchingly. "It could have taken an arrow through your knee and the asshole archer who sent it to make you realize that what you were doing was wrong, and that there was a way out."
"You could have been raised in a circus and betrayed by your asshole brother," Clint offered cheerily. "After also becoming a criminal because of the asshole ringmaster of the circus, anyway. You could have been found by Fury first, which is just a trip. He pulls the whole 'this is bigger than just you,' 'you can make a difference,' and 'feel threatened by the weapons I'm casually showing off in the background,' acts all at the same time."
I snorted at that one, grinning at Clint gratefully. "Well. Is this a who-had-the-worse-life game now? Because I think Clint is a clear last place loser and I come just barely short of first just because of being so much younger than you two," I jabbed my thumbs towards Bucky and Natasha, who smirked.
"We know you wouldn't hurt any of us on purpose," Natasha's sudden declaration nearly made me faint in surprise. I whipped my head up to her, eyes wide as dinner plates.
"I'm sorry, I think I should go see Bruce. I just had an auditory hallucination."
Natasha rolled her eyes. "I mean it, brat," she said, and if I didn't know any better I would have said she sounded almost fond. "We aren't worried about what you do on purpose anymore. It's moments like yesterday with Hank that have us keeping an eye on you, but it isn't just for our sakes. You going suicidal because of hurting someone accidentally doesn't just affect us. You're the one who would die, idiot."
I blinked, cleaning out one ear with my pinkie. "Are you guys sure this isn't a hallucination?"
Bucky flicked me across the ear, making me wince playfully. "She means it, Hebi. And not just because you hurting yourself would depress everyone in the Tower. She cares too, she just doesn't like to show it."
"See, this is the part when you're supposed to admit that she reminds you of yourself," Clint said patronizingly to Natasha, who kicked him in the shin without hesitation. As Clint rolled around the floor in pain, I found myself sniffing to hold back tears.
"Thank you," I breathed. "It means a hell of a lot."
"If you tell anyone about this, I will plant a stink bomb in your wardrobe," Natasha threatened. I held up my hands in surrender, but was still slightly smiling.
Yeah, it was a good day.
—*—*—*—*—*
Thank you guys so much for reading, and as always see you next chapter!~
