NOTE: I uploaded chapters 18-20 on the same day! go back if you missed a chapter!

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Sleep slowly ebbed away, the last vague shadows of ambiguous dreams—neither good nor bad—drifting into oblivion. I blinked up at the stark white ceiling, wondering for a disconnected moment why the outsides of my legs were warm but the insides weren't.

I suppose it was an indication of my mental state that I was not twisted into a sleep-doughnut, my legs only slightly spread apart in the bed. Mildly curious, I sat up to figure out the source of the odd temperature placement, only to be acquainted with the large rip in the center of the blanket that I had made the previous night.

Right. That was a thing, lucky not too noticeable unless my legs were spreading the rip apart like right then. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and pushing the luxurious silver-gray blanket to the side.

"Friday, what time is it?" I asked as I made my way across the criminally cold room, wrinkling my nose as I fought the instinct to curl up into a ball and stay as still as possible until it warmed up. I was shuffling through the closet to find a pair of fuzzy socks when I was answered.

"It is currently six thirty-seven in the morning, Hebi."

Awesome, I thought to myself, pleased. That was a pretty decent night's sleep. I had taken a shower the night before, so I wouldn't need another one so soon. Finding an appropriate pair of black fuzzy socks, I slid them on before selecting a plain pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt that looked about the right size. I set the more proper clothes aside for later, and went into the restroom to brush my teeth and otherwise get ready.

The separation from Matt was still gnawing at me, but not as violently as the day before. Then, it had been a staticky, stabbing pain of panic and worry that would barely let me think. Today, it had turned into a hollow ache that seemed to chew at me from the inside out as if trying to create a tunnel through my chest.

I made my way up to the common room without another word once my hygiene stuff was taken care of. The room was only empty long enough for me to slap bread in the toaster and grab a bottle of water before a sleepy Peter, rubbing at his eyes, walked in. He was also still in his pajamas like I was, his iron-man pajama shirt only covering the top half of his hello-kitty pants. I raised an eyebrow, but sipped at my water without a word.

Then the toast popped up.

"You can have one of those slices," I offered, shocking Peter awake apparently since his hands flew away from where they had been attacking his poor defenseless eyes and making him whip his head towards me. His mouth was wide open, same as his eyes, and he spent a while just gaping. I raised an eyebrow again, taking a long sip of water.

"Seriously. It's just toast, dude. I probably won't even be able to keep just one down," I admitted with a shrug. "But I'll try, or else Golden Boy Rogers is going to nag."

"Umm," Peter was still looking like a deer caught in headlights, and looked down the hallway towards his room. After a long moment of thought, he slowly approached me and sat down at the counter. I shrugged and tossed him one of the toast slices, taking the other for myself. I was treated to the wonderful sight of Peter's hand instinctively snapping up to grab the food out of midair without even looking towards it. His eyes had never left me.

"Uh," he decided to try talking again. "Could you… Pass me the Cocoa Puffs then? And uh, a bowl and milk and—"

"I get it, you want cereal," I interrupted with a snort. "I don't need the step by step," I was closer to the cabinets, so it didn't bother me to fetch him the stuff. All I had to do was turn around, open a cabinet, grab the bowl and box of cereal inside, the milk from the fridge, and a spoon from the drawer next to the fridge. Not a single step required.

Quest finished, I balanced everything in both hands, took a single step forward, and set it all down in front of him. I took the tiniest bite of plain toast as I watched him, while holding his own slice in his mouth, prepare his own breakfast. The food tasted stale and bland to me, but I swallowed it despite the urge to gag. How could I eat when Matt was still bedridden?

I grabbed a paper towel, using it to place my toast on top of on the counter so I didn't have to even touch the offending edible item.

My stomach rolled already, so I sipped my water to take my mind off it.

"So, uh," Peter started, looking intently into his bowl of cereal. He took a large bite. "How are you feeling today?" He asked tentatively after swallowing. I met his eyes squarely, frowning.

"Pete…"

"Glass scale," he spat out suddenly, making my eyebrows furrow before I realized what he was talking about and my face relaxed. He hadn't had to ask me that yet, not since creating the scale. I thought about it, crossing my arms and leaning forward onto the counter.

"...Last night I was probably at an eight? Maybe nine, but I obviously wasn't breaking the same way we talked about before," I mused out loud, sorting through my emotions carefully. "Still not. I guess a ten in this case would be trying to get out by force, or trying to do something...drastic, to get back to Matt. So, I guess I'm at a five or six," I slowly admitted, tasting the words. Once they were all out, I nodded slowly. "Yeah… Five and a half," I finally decided. Peter nodded, having been eating quietly the whole time. He was reaching back for the box of cereal even as he opened his mouth to reply.

"That's better, at least. But anywhere above five is still 'run the moment you get an opening,' isn't it?"

I huffed in irritation, looking away. That was apparently enough of an answer for my best friend, who shook his head and sighed through his nose.

"Stop psychoanalyzing me, Captain Bedhead," I grumbled, letting my eyes obviously roam over his messy hair. Peter's lips twitched into a smirk even as he rolled his eyes.

"Gooood Morning, Hebi!" A very familiar voice called out happily, followed my a cheery clap. I groaned, bending over so my hands covered my head and my forehead was against the cool marble of the countertop. Tony walked in, Foggy by his side.

"I do not have the mental capacity to deal with your sunshine right now, Foggy," I moaned in despair. "How the fuck are you so happy anyway, there's no way in hell you got even six hours of sleep."

"Five and a half, and I count that as a win," he confirmed cheerily. I lifted my head just enough to glare at him. Despite his happy voice, there were very clear bags under his eyes and his hair wasn't quite as neat as usual. Tony, who was next to him, was clutching a thermos of coffee for dear life and slowly inching away from my loud uncle figure. Tony's eyes though, however hidden behind glasses as they were, were clearly on me.

"Come on kid, you have a free pass to sleep in and you're still awake?" He asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at me. "I know for a fact I told Friday not to set an alarm for you."

"Free pass?" I asked, straightening up. My eyes slid over to Foggy, who cringed. Clarity lit up my brain. "Oh, no. No, there is not a chance in ever loving hell you are getting me to skip school," I informed them firmly. Foggy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his sunny persona slid away a bit.

"Hebs, there is no way you're going to school like this," he argued gently, using the nickname he knew I was weak for. My frown deepened. "I know you and Matt are all fanatic about education and making sure you set yourself up for the best future possible, but answer me honestly. Are you even able to pay attention in class like this?"

"Why am I friends with lawyers?" I asked rhetorically instead of answering, looking up at the ceiling for answers. "Why do I surround myself with argumentative people when I just want to wallow in misery nice and quietly?"

"Because your subconscious has some form of self preservation that you, as a whole, seem to lack," Foggy answered, once again chipper. I glared at him, and Tony snorted into his coffee. Peter was pouring a third bowl of cereal. "Also," Foggy held up his hand, where my hearing aids were proudly displayed in his grip. My eyes widened, and my hands shot up to my ears. I must have taken them off sometime after I got home from school and forgotten all about them. Satisfied by my reaction, Foggy pocketed the devices. "Can't go to school without your hearing aids. That's a deal you and Matt made, right?"

I growled under my breath, knowing I was beat but refusing to back down.

"Matt wants me to get the best education possible," I argued, plastic crinkling as my grip slightly tightened around my water bottle. "He'd have my ass if he knows I skipped."

Foggy rolled his eyes. "Not if he knew what state you were in, idiot," he retorted fondly. "In fact, he's more likely to have your ass for what you're doing to yourself rather than missing a day of school. We both know you've already done a week of homework in advance, you're not fooling us."

Peter's head shot to me, a large spoon of cereal half in his mouth. Tony's gaze was heavy on my face.

"Okay, so I'm an overachiever. Can't beat listening to the teacher first hand though, r—"

"Hebi, you're at least a month ahead of most of your class, stop trying to get out of this," Foggy shot down immediately, voice turning from cheery to admonishing in an instant. "You're staying here for now, since Karen is still shaken up about the whole window thing," he raised his eyebrows pointedly, making me wince at the memory. "Next time you decide to jump out of a fifth story window, do us all a favor and don't."

"Fwibth?!" That was Peter, who promptly choked on his cereal from his attempt at speaking with a full mouth. I turned to him, giving him the best bewildered look I could as he got himself back under control. He coughed a few times for good measure, took a deep breath, and continued; "you could have seriously gotten hurt!"

"Or gotten dead," Tony grumbled barely loud enough for me to hear. I sighed.

"I slid down the drain pipe, I wasn't stupid enough for a full on free fall," I corrected them.

"You still scared the hell out of Karen," Foggy scolded gently. "You'll need to buy her a huge box of chocolates once this whole fiasco is over," the blond then walked smoothly over to me, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulder as I moved. He gave me one of his blinding smiles. "Come on, Hebs. Most kids your age would love a chance like this. You get to skip school and spend the whole day with the Avengers—"

"As their rehab prisoner," I groused. He ignored my interruption, forging on;

"—and just relax. No homework, no bullies, no annoying teachers. Just you, some heroes, good food. Try to enjoy it," he shook me a little, trying to get me to meet his eyes. "Okay? Leave Matt to me, Karen, and Claire to handle. He'll be up and making stupid, reckless decisions again in a couple days. Then you'll wish he'd lay down in a bed and get some rest."

I couldn't help a tiny chuckle at that, knowing how true it was.

"Now, I gotta get back so that Karen can take a break and get some breakfast. Please don't do anything d—"

He paused, the both of us looking up at the sound of scraping. Peter tilted his head, the sound coming from the hallway where his bedroom was. There was a seldom-used elevator at the end of that hallway, which was probably where Bruce had come from because he was the one who emerged dragging a portable dry erase board. Once fully in the room, he set it up so it stood on it's own. Proudly written in bold red ink were the words, "Martyr Complex Anonymous," which made Foggy slap a hand over his mouth as he choked on air. I just let my eyes slowly slide up to the mousy haired scientist.

"Umm… what?"

Bruce proudly patted the board, a slightly annoyed look on his face. "I was filled in this morning on your situation, and as horrible as it is I think you've given me the best possible opportunity to call up a much-needed group intervention. You and the others," he gaze pointedly slid over to Tony, who was suddenly very interested in his thermos. "Who have guilt complexes and a tendency to stop taking care of themselves in favor of others," his gaze then slid to Peter, who was also suddenly engrossed in his fifth bowl of cereal. "Need to get together and have this long overdue talk. It would be better if Peter didn't have school, but we'll just have to drag him to another of these meetings in the future."

"You're already planning more?" Tony asked, incredulous. Banner nodded seriously.

"Natasha is already gathering the people I believe need to attend."

Foggy was still sniggering next to me. "Now it's just ironic that Matt isn't awake to come," he whispered to me, making me glare at him out of the side of my eye. He just smiled at me unrepentantly.

"Don't sneak away Tony, your presence is mandatory, you're one of the worst ones," Bruce drawled sharply right as Tony was trying to make a quick escape. He spun around, holding his arms out to either side of his body indignantly.

"Oh come on, Banner! I own this building, you can't order me around!"

"I'll tell Pepper."

Silence.

"But on second thought, this whole thing sounds like a train wreck waiting to happen, and I want to be present to see the carnage," he changed his tune instantly, the billionaire popping himself down on the couch. Foggy and I were not even bothering to hide our snickers at that.

W-h-i-p-p-e-d.

Right then, in walked the woman herself. The sight of a natural ginger made me relax, the hair color itself just being associated with comfort for me at that point. I had actually never met Pepper before, but I had seen her in magazines and online enough to know what she looked like.

(Plus, MJ was a total fangirl. I would never say that to her face, I valued my dignity, but MJ absolutely had a celebrity crush on Pepper. No doubt in my mind.)

Foggy straightened up immediately.

"Welp, that looks like Karen's long lost twin so I'm out. I value my life," Foggy said, but gave Pepper a dazzling smile away before making a beeline to the elevator. I just watched him go.

"Explain?" Pepper asked, turning to Tony.

"That was my dad's best friend, Miss Potts. My dad's other best friend is Karen, and… Friday?" I asked the AI for help, who dutifully pulled up a hologram of my aunt figure. "All the mannerisms and everything are too similar, Foggy was instantly intimidated."

Pepper had turned to look at me when I started answering for her fiancée, and gave me a small smile.

"Oh, you must be Peter's friend Hebi!" She said cheerfully, seeming to ignore everything I had just said. Seeing an opportunity, I nodded with a tired grin.

"Yeah, it's nice to finally meet you, Miss Potts. I was just about to head back to get dressed for school—"

Pepper's smile turned knowing. "Not a chance. I was filled in on what's going on, and you're staying here. I'll be floating around when I'm not in a meeting or dealing with something important for SI, so you won't be stuck with these adrenaline junkies all day."

I slumped, sighing through my nose. Plan one, thwarted.

Tony snorted at his place on the couch, smirking. "Nice try. Steve should be down soon, he can make you breakfast—don't think I can't see that piece of toast you're trying to hide," the billionaire remarked casually, making me look down to where my mostly untouched toast was hidden behind my crossed arms on the counter.

Plan two, failed.

I took a sip of my water bottle, feeling annoyance starting to join my veritable ocean of antipathy. The gaping emptiness I felt had only been growing, despite Peter's usually grounding presence.

Said teenage hero was off to get dressed after his tenth bowl of cereal was emptied. I stared at the reused dish, reaching out to grab the mostly emptied gallon of milk and box of Cocoa Puffs, shaking my head. Spider metabolism. Made me glad I was part snake instead, with a metabolism as fast as Peter's I wouldn't have survived a week on the streets. I put the things back, needing something to distract myself and using being productive as that distraction. Except, five seconds later I was done and aimless again.

At least, until Steve came down with Bucky, and Natasha. I tilted my head, that was less than I thought she had been about to drag down. Steve headed straight to the stove, looking over at me with a soft smile.

"Morning, you're up early. Sleep alright, Hebi?" He asked as Bucky went to sit down next to Tony. The two sulked side by side at being forced into that "group therapy" session. I shrugged.

"I mean. I guess," I answered blandly, leaning against the counter. "I didn't have a second nightmare at least. I have WickedTea orders to make and send out, by the—"

"Here is that bag you wanted me to bring up for you, Tony," Vision's voice interrupted me, the Android phasing through the walls with a large cloth bag in hand. I could faintly smell the ingredients, and sighed. "I believe these are for you, Miss Hebi."

I nodded, shoulders drooping. "Yeah. Thanks, Vision, our them on the counter for me?" The Android nodded, dropping the bag down gently where I had asked before silently leaving again. The bags softly clinked as the glass jars inside knocked gently against one another. Tony was smirking at me.

"Oh yeah, Nelson brought those over. He was having a hard time carrying it though, so I just had him leave it in the lobby and asked Vision to carry it up for us. Now you can put together whatever orders you need, and I can ship them off for you."

I grumbled under my breath as Steve cooked behind me, barely registering Bruce in the background talking to Tony and setting the things in place for the group therapy. There were collapsed mailing boxes, a printed list of the open orders, several sheets of printed shipping labels, a roll of clear packaging tape, empty tea jars, ribbon, a pair of scissors, and of course the many jars of dried herbs and the measuring cups/spoons necessary for actually making the mixtures. Foggy had even included the WickedTea sticker and cardboard labels, and a large bag of shredded packing paper.

Damn him and his intelligence.

I went around the counter to sit on a stool, making myself busy with slipping on gloves (also included damn it) and working on the first order. Sunny Citrus herbal tea, 2oz jar. Engineer Lifeblood (my Tony-themed black tea blend) 4oz jar, and a Scarlet Magic (guess who inspired that one) red rooibos tea, sample bag. I pulled out the things I needed, starting with the small resealable paper bag for the sampler and the two different sized empty jars.

I had just finished shaking up the 2oz jar of finished tea, getting everything well mixed together, when Steve plopped a small bowl of soup in front of me. I immediately stalled my motions, staring at it in surprise.

"Uh," I said dumbly, looking down at it. Steve just chuckled.

"Miss Page left a list of things to know about you and your habits behind before she left. She said your dad liked making traditional Japanese foods so you grew closer to your heritage, and that they had become a sort of comfort food for you."

The scent of miso soup rose to my nose, making me set my glass jar down and gingerly take the spoon.

"But, How..?" I asked, knowing he didn't have much reason to know how to make miso soup. I glanced up just in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I need less sleep than a normal human, so I sometimes stay up late trying random recipes if I'm not painting. Luckily, I've made this a few times already during a few of those nights, so all I had to do was ask Tony to order the ingredients."

I shook my head, still not really sure how to handle this kindness. I had gotten significantly better accepting kind gestures since being adopted by Matt, but that situation was still weird. I hadn't had very many conversations with Steve, I figured to most— if not all— of the Avengers, I was just Peter's friend and occasional backup. Not someone worth going to a whole bunch of trouble for—I was still a stranger to most of them!

I just.

I didn't get it.

I took a shallow spoonful of broth, raising it up to my lips and sipping. It scalded my tongue, but that didn't matter. It was good.

I just didn't get why so many people were so willing to do nice things for me even before they knew me very well. First Matt, and Foggy and Karen, then Peter and MJ and Ned and even Hank eventually, but he took more time. Then Bucky and Natasha and Clint…

I took another sip even as I stared at the light brown soup in bewilderment, feeling something wet slide down my cheeks.

It just didn't make sense.

Then Steve, and even Wanda had tried to comfort me despite us still being strangers too.

"Hebi?"

I just couldn't understand.

"Do you like it? Hebi?" Steve's soft voice cracked through my thought process on the second try, making me look up with my spoon halfway in my mouth. He was giving me a soft, lopsided smile although his eyes were worried and darted down to my cheeks briefly. I blinked, wiping away my tears with my free hand and taking a deep breath through my nose. Swallowing my mouthful, I nodded and put the spoon back in the bowl. It was already half empty.

"Yeah. Yeah it's really good Steve, I… just… thanks," I almost whispered the last part, but knew he could hear me clear as day. His smile widened a bit, and he patted me on the back. After a moment of surprised stiffness I relaxed and let out a sigh.

I wanted to eat more soup, but I was already feeling full. But… but miso soup. Matt hadn't made any in weeks. Unfortunately, my metabolism was still only at about fifty percent. It was always a little more difficult to maneuver it around when it lowered out of necessity in the first place rather than it being my choice, so it would take me at least the rest of the day to push back up to a hundred percent.

"Mister Rogers, my sensors tell me that Hebi's metabolism is functioning below average. She will not be able to finish her soup."

I huffed, looking away from the super soldier in slight embarrassment. I hated wasting food. It was almost a crime.

"I can sip on it during the intervention thing Bruce wants," I offered softly, glancing up at the bowl. Suddenly more aware than before, I glanced up to the now cold slice of toast from before, frowning. No, I couldn't waste that either. Even if it made my stomach roll. My hand was halfway extended to it, only to be replaced by a larger one that snatched it before I could. Blinking in confusion, I watched as Steve took a huge bite out of it and winked at me.

Of course he understood. He and Bucky grew up in the forties, food was precious for them too. I let my shoulders slump, rubbing the back of my neck as I was caught.

"Thanks, again," I told the blond with a lopsided smile as he took another huge bite of the cold bread.

"No problem. Just try to sip at the soup, but don't force yourself to eat anything. We'll have to work a little slowly. Now come bring that bowl over to the couches before Stark comes up with a way to escape."

I nodded, cradling the bowl in between my palms and walking over with Steve right behind me. When I sat down on the couch opposite Tony and Bucky, the blond chose to sit next to me rather than his boyfriend. I raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off.

I was there to be babysat, after all.

I slipped a spoon of the classic Japanese breakfast soup into my mouth, but didn't immediately swallow. I let it just linger there for a bit, savoring the flavor on my enhanced taste buds. The scent and taste almost overwhelmed my tongue in the best way.

I still didn't understand. But maybe that was okay.

I tended to understand darker stuff best anyway, so maybe confusion was a good sign.

"Alright," Bruce spoke out loud. "I'm only staying because you guys will all back out if I don't. Obviously we don't have to do the traditional introducing yourself thing, but I want everyone to name one time that you failed to take care of yourself in favor of something you justified as 'more important' than your health," he instructed us, putting finger quotations over the words more important.

Nobody made a move to speak.

Bruce glared.

Tony bit the bullet, sighing. "Yeah, taking care of myself is a recent thing, so," he waved a hand dismissively. "Hard to—"

"Nope, you know at least one instance. Come on, Tony. It doesn't have to be anything too personal."

The billionaire grumbled.

"I let myself get shot," I spoke up, realizing someone had to break the tension and knowing that it would probably be easiest for me. I was younger, less experienced. They didn't expect me to say anything serious—which is why they shot their eyes to me in shock. I sighed, running a hand through my short hair. "I, uh, didn't always do the best things to get by on the streets. Mainly when I was younger and didn't have as many options. Back closer to when Matt first met me, we ran into a guy who remembered one of the shitty things I did. He broke into our apartment and said that I was better off dead. The first thing I thought was that Matt had just gotten guardianship, and he'd be blamed if I suddenly ended up dead in his apartment. So I drew the guy away, jumped out the fire escape and led him away from Matt to keep him safe legally and health wise. But when the guy shot, I didn't dodge."

I decided proof was in order and, even though the half-true story I was telling actually matched one of the bullet wounds on my torso, I wasn't about to pull my shirt up and show them the rest of the ugly mess of scars there. Instead, I pushed down my left sleeve and showed the lone bullet mark there that I kept hidden most of the time.

Kinda sad that I had options to choose from in that regard.

A collective breath seemed to come from the other men.

"Good start, thank you Hebi," I jumped at that voice, turning to Sam. He was sitting on the couch next to Banner by then—I had looked at the ground during my whole story—and it threw me off that I hadn't noticed him come in. I furrowed my brows, opening my mouth to speak But Banner cut me off.

"I can't stay, and I'm not the best at this kinda thing anyway. Like I said, I needed to make sure none of you would run off. Sam is a licensed therapist who usually works with veterans, he's better qualified to take over here," the scientist explained to me patiently before standing up, giving up a short wave, and leaving. I looked over to Sam, who offered a friendly smile.

"I was going to talk to you today, anyway, Hebi. Especially after last night," I wrinkled my nose and looked away at that reminder. "Don't worry, it's normal to have things you struggle with. But we'll get to that later, when I have a chance to talk to you in private," Sam then looked up to the others and raised a brow. "Come on guys, the girl just gave you a personal story. Who's next?"

"I almost let Bucky kill me, back when he was still the Winter Soldier," Steve admitted softly, making my eyes blow wide. Everyone relaxed after that, and I realized something.

Tony and Bucky could have left.

Banner was no match for either of them unless he was hulked out, if either of them honestly wanted out, they would have left. I let my gaze trail over to Sam, who met my gaze and seemed to understand my thought process. He winked before refocusing on Steve as he told his story.

If Sam had been down there, Tony and Bucky might have felt more pressured to stay, and therefore more uncomfortable—which would defeat the purpose or even cause harm— or more likely to leave anyway. Steve had stayed in the kitchen with me even when I was eating my soup.

Those conniving geniuses, they made sure Bucky and Tony never actually felt pressured to stay, so that they weremore likely to stay and actually get help.

Yet another reason never to piss off the Avengers. They had intelligence and it wouldn't always be obvious what they were up to until it was too late.

—*—*—*—*—*

The rest of the group therapy/intervention/whatever it was supposed to be went by smoothly. A few tears were shed, a few burdens were lifted, a lot of understanding and bonding was achieved. Especially when it came to the adults understanding Hebi.

They had never expected the girl to have a gunshot scar, and it only raised questions about her past while also answering questions about her personality. They knew something was up, what Hebi had said when she said "when I was younger," didn't have the air of someone talking about their early teens. It sounded like she meant even younger, which would fall under the time her biological father supposedly isolated and neglected her. That obviously didn't match up.

But the adults not in the loop already just pushed the thought to the back of their heads—after all, they knew what people said about assuming things. They'd figure it out eventually, if they were meant to.

Hebi spent most of the day mindlessly putting together the teas for the WickedTea orders, interspersed with either Steve, Tony, Sam, or Clint checking in on her, trying to give her something to eat or drink, or just sitting down to talk to or distract her.

That first day, they only had one scare around dinner time. Peter, already home from school by then, was the one to walk into the room and spot the other teen with her hand on the window. It was one of the windows that opened so that Peter could come and go as Spider-man without any hassle.

He knew Hebi knew that. She always noticed details like that.

So, the teen hero was already watching his friend carefully when it happened. Sure, Hebi could have just been admiring the skyline. Peter just didn't think so.

Sure enough, Hebi slid the window open and pulled a knife out of nowhere, going to slam it into the wall of the tower. All it took was one hell from Peter before Clint was there, pressing the pressure point in Hebi's wrist to make her drop the knife. The weapon fell into Clint's other hand, where he tossed it so it fell harmlessly under one of the sofas and allowed him to wrestle the smaller girl away from the window. Peter took over by ordering Friday to close and lock it before going over to his friend.

The first thing Hebi saw was Peter's eyebrows drawn low over his eyes, and she flinched.

"I did the mental math. That was Natasha's vibranium dagger, I would have made it down fine," she tried, letting Clint sit her down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Peter just crossed his arms. "I would have! And I don't lose my grip easily. I would have been—"

"Where did you even get Nat's knife, Hebi?" Peter asked, eyes flicking over to the redhead spy. Romanoff was staring at her leg before raising her head to stare at Hebi.

"You pick pocketed me," she stayed simply, her voice casual on the surface. Peter and the other Avengers weren't fooled though; Natasha was surprised. "I made sure to conceal all my knives just as well as I usually do in my civilians. I guess I need to change it up."

Hebi frowned, knowing it was only her sense of smell that allowed her to detect the placements of Natasha's weapons.

"You can't take knives, Hebi. In fact, you shouldn't be stealing weapons of any kind," Peter pressed. Hebi just tapped her fingers on the counter, staring off into space.

"I know. I know. God, I have t even held a knife that wasn't for cooking in…" she trailed off, trying to remember. "A long time. But I just— it's been a whole day, and I haven't been contacted by—"

"If you had patience," a familiar female voice said from the suddenly opened elevator, sounding very unamused. "I just got here, Hebi. Matt's doing better, his infection is finally dealt with and his fever is slowly going down. Now what happened?"

The window had been facing the back of the building, which wasn't in plain public view. Karen wouldn't know what had almost happened.

So Steve and Tony told her, and that sparked a very heated (and panicked) scolding that definitely reminded people of Pepper. Even Pepper herself, who was standing by the stove with Natasha and imagining Tony in Hebi's place.

"Reckless, irresponsible, dangerous—!"

Yeah, it wasn't hard for Pepper to imagine at all.

"—once your dad is lucid, I am telling him about this and you are going to get the lecture of your life that makes me look like an amateur. Complete with blind glares and silent bouts of disappointment."

And grounding from patrol, for sure. Hebi flinched at that thought, not wanting to be separated from Matt for a second once he was better. Being grounded from patrol would be torture.

Dinner went without a hitch, Hebi's metabolism back up to normal and her appetite passable. Barely, but passable.

The next day, Karen came in the morning (when Hebi once again tried to convince Tony and Pepper to allow her to go to school with Peter, an idea which was steadfastly vetoed) with a cloth bag over her shoulder opposite the one that held her purse. The bag was empty, and she handed it to the slightly groggy teen. She had had another nightmare and once again needed Steve to console her. She decided she officially liked him, even if he bewildered her with his illogical kindness, if he was willing to sit there and pat her back while she sobbed silently and snottily into his white shirt without a single complaint.

Hebi took the empty bag from Karen, raising an eyebrow. Her aunt figure was oddly happy and energetic even though she had to have had the night shift watching Matt.

"Fill this up with any orders you finished, and I'll ship them off on my way to my interview," she told the younger girl happily, which made Hebi freeze.

"Interview?"

Peter was munching on eggs and bacon next to her, which Tony had made (and was still making). Both males turned to watch what was going on, sensing the sudden tension with the younger girl.

"Huh? Yeah, my interview at the New York Bulletin. I've got a really good shot at landing the job," Karen's voice was still light and excited, until she saw Hebi's face and picked up on the teen's tension. "Hebi? Oh no," Karen's face fell. "Matt didn't tell you."

"You're quitting?" Hebi's voice was the tiniest Peter had ever heard it, vulnerable. Tony turned off the stove, sliding the last two eggs onto Peter's plate while still paying the two women all his attention. "But—but who will be our secretary? And who will keep Matt and Foggy from screwing around? And—"

"Hebi," Karen put her hand on the teen's shoulders gently, Hebi refused to meet her eyes. "Matt and Foggy are already looking into a replac—" she stopped at Hebi's flinch, quickly rewording her sentence, "into finding a new secretary. They knew I didn't want to be a paper shuffler my whole life, even you knew that."

"So… at the New York Bulletin? You trade paper for more paper?" Hebi's tone was bitter. Karen's lips thinned.

"Do you know the name Ben Ulrich?"

Hebi blinked at the sudden topic change, scrunching her eyebrows. "Ulrich? Yeah, isn't he the best investigative reporter the Bulletin h—" it seemed to click in Hebi's head as her face fell slack. Karen nodded.

"He was murdered by Fisk not long before Matt and Foggy were able to that bastard arrested. Ben… he helped me investigate Fisk, Hebi. It's only because of him that we got the evidence we needed to put that jerkwad behind bars, he was my friend, and he got killed for exposing a criminal. The Bulletin needs a new investigate reporter, Hebi. The editor Mitchell Ellison? He offered me Ben's job."

Only Tony noticed the slight flinch Peter gave at that, unable to separate Ulrich from Parker in his head for a moment. It passed quickly.

Hebi was frowning. "You're going to put a target on your back. I know you Karen, you're gonna go straight for the big bads."

The blond didn't argue that, just smirking sadly. "Do I get a membership badge to the club then, Miss Part-Time Vigilante?" Hebi snorted, shoulders slumping. Karen rustled her hair kindly. "Ben taught me everything he could before he was killed. I can be good at this, I get get better, I can do something. And yeah, I'll be a target. But you've helped me with self defense, and I really want to do this Hebi. It won't keep me from visiting all the time, though. You won't get rid of me that easily."

Hebi nodded, offering the older woman a weak smile. "I better not. Uh, here," the teen hastily shoved three boxes into the bag Karen had offered. "That's all I got finished yesterday. You, uh, don't want to be late if this interview is that important for you."

Karen's smile softened, and she kissed Hebi on the forehead before shouldering the bag, offering the boys still present a wave, and leaving.

Hebi wasted no time after Karen left before slumping over the kitchen counter with a groan of despair. Peter patted her back.

"This sucks," Hebi moaned. "First, Matt's sick and I lose a few extra screws in my head. Now Karen's quitting— and I know she's going to do a great job. I know she's going to make a difference. But goddamn it, I'm worried about her now. At least I can protect her when she's at the office, but if she's going around town investigating the lowlifes of New York City?" Hebi covered the back of her head with her hands. "I'm not in the right state to deal with this shit. I should be proud of her, right? I should. But all I can think of right now—"

Is dead body dead body dead body, Hebi finished silently, trailing off outloud and not letting Tony or Peter know what was on her mind.

Regardless, both men had been there before. They knew. Hebi didn't have to say it; they understood. Peter pulled Hebi into a tight side-hug, as much as he could with her covering her head on the countertop. He felt her muscles slightly relax under his grip.

Hebi made a break for the elevator the moment it opened for Peter— FRIDAY was faster.

"Come on, squirt. I'll heat up some of Cap's leftover soup for you."

Hebi abandoned her failed mission and gravitated towards the promise of miso soup.

—*—*—*—*—*

Seriously though, have you ever seen anybody with real gunshot, burn, and/or stab wound scars? Those things hardly ever end up as aesthetic as the media makes them out to be, and I wanted to portray that in Hebi. Sure, she doesn't have any noticeable scars on most of her arms, neck/collarbone area, or face, but the rest of her is marked pretty badly. It's not pretty, my friends. I explained the scars on the front of her body for you, but these are not aesthetic scars, they are raised and jagged and messy and a lot of people would even say ugly. They are real scars, like they would appear in real life. Thrusting a seven year old into life as a mercenary isn't gonna be easy on their body after all, especially since she doesn't have a healing factor. Not everyone can come out as clean as hotshot Natalia Alianova Romanova, possible relation to the Czars of Russia.

Seriously, that woman's background is convoluted.

Guess who partially inspired Hebi, heh.

P.S: I know this chapter ended awkwardly. I wanted a whole other scene, but it would have been too long and awkwardly placed so… next chapter we'll finish up this mini arc and move on!

Thank you so much for reading and as always,

See you next chapter~