"Oh, hello, Peter. I'm glad you came," Wanda remarked, smiling. The young woman was standing in her doorway, and gave the mutant an appreciative nod. "Come in, we've got a lot to discuss."

Peter paused outside of the door frame as the witch retreated further into her room, hand resting hesitantly on the wall. Honestly, with how tired he was, he'd wanted to initially refuse her request. It took Rose's pestering, and Weaver pointing out that she'd likely keep asking to talk until they finally did, to make his way over to Wanda's room. Now that he was here, an uncomfortable pressure rested on his chest, and he began questioning whether or not this was a great idea. Nonetheless, he entered, and flopped down on the nearest sitting object, which happened to be a red bean bag.

The two stared at each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension and awkwardness. Before long, Peter dropped his gaze to stare at his hands folded in his lap. "What was so important to talk about that it couldn't wait until later?" His tone was slightly bitter, and came out harsher than he intended. Still, he couldn't find the energy in him to care about that; the lack of proper sleep was catching up to him, and combined with the last few days, he was hitting the end of his patience.

"There's two things I wanted to talk to you about, sooner than later," Wanda replied, staring at the young teen with a searching glance. "One regarding earlier, and the other about some of the odd things I've been picking up in my passive mind scans."

Well, jeez, you wouldn't be picking anything up if you weren't invading our head, Weaver bristled, words laced with venom.

Peter released a heavy sigh, reaching up to scrub his flesh palm against his face. "Okay. What about them?"

Wanda bit her lip, thinking on the proper way to word it. After a few minutes, she finally said, "The… other presences in your mind. What are they?"

Oh, we're talking about this first, huh? Rose asked, amused. She's got her priorities straight, then.

Pursing his lips, the mutant simply offered a shrug, knowing he couldn't exactly deny it when she was capable of using her powers to interact with his mind. "We're not… really sure?" He'd hesitated to use the plural term, but figured it fit better; he wasn't the only one confused about the situation, after all. Raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck, he added, "It could be any number of things. None of us are medical experts, so it's not like we could really say one way or the other."

Noticing the assassin's continued use of plural terms, Wanda ventured, "...So you are acknowledging that they're at least separate enough that plurals are necessary."

Again, Peter shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, we look different, we talk different, we feel different… but we also have the same memories, at least for the most part. But we've come to the conclusion that we're different individuals in most ways. Lord knows Weaver and Ben definitely act like polar opposites."

That's because Weavie's so glum! Ben piped up cheerfully.

Some of us have to be realistic, even if it is a bit pessimistic, Weaver grumbled.

The young woman tilted her head, adjusting on her desk seat to stare more intently at Peter. "Ben and Weaver? Wasn't the first the name of your uncle, and the second your… assassin name?"

"It's not like I chose them," Peter grumbled, and Weaver seemed to share the sentiment, as a feeling of grudging agreement appeared at the back of his thoughts. Lifting his dark brown gaze to Wanda's, he murmured, "That's just what they have their names as. I don't know the reasoning behind it, there hasn't been a lot of time to learn."

"So these… other identities were a recent development?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "...But I sensed them when we first met, I just didn't know what it was back then."

Peter shook his head, mindful to do it slowly so the headache wouldn't pester him. It was difficult to explain something he didn't know fully, but perhaps sharing what he did know could help with figuring out more. He wasn't entirely thrilled it was being outed like this, but he couldn't do anything about it now. "I've been talking to them, and, well… some of them have been here a while? The oldest was over ten years ago. And before you ask, yeah… we think there is a correlation between when the first one said he showed up, and where we were at the time."

Wanda nodded, wringing her hands together. "I haven't been trying to look too much, so I only picked up passing impressions," the witch admitted. "Would it… would it be possible to meet them?"

Why? What if we don't want to meet you because we already know you? Weaver asked, scowling.

Yes, because she's in the same memory situation we are, Rose retorted dryly. We've only wanted to switch once, though, and the end result wasn't exactly pleasant. I'd rather not, unless I've got a good reason to.

Not that I'd let you, if I had anything to say about it, Weaver responded, giving her a narrowed glare. He sighed and relented, But she does have a point, and for once, I agree with her.

I'd like to meet her! Ben enthused, though a confused frown crossed his face. But if that headache will get worse as a result, I can wait.

Peter grimaced slightly at that, none too eager at the prospect of the headache getting worse. Rubbing at his temple, he admitted, "You technically already did meet one of them."

"Oh! Was it the other day, where you fell out of the vent?" Wanda asked, and when that was met with a nod, she added, "Yeah, I did get a different impression from you. You seemed colder, and more withdrawn."

That's just a nicer way of saying you're a pessimist, Rose smirked.

Shut up, Weaver growled.

"That was Weaver," Peter affirmed. "And that's how he normally is… I think. From the few days I've genuinely gotten to know him, now that I knew he was an actual individual as opposed to a weird thought, he's been that way," he rubbed unconsciously at his right arm, and pulled in on himself as he continued, "Though I suppose that… checks out? He thinks he's my 'mask'. Maybe that's why he's got the name he does? He's…" his voice quieted, barely above a gravelly whisper. "He's been with me through some of the worst stuff. I just didn't recognize it for what it was."

"Do you… need a moment?" Wanda asked gently, concerned but wanting to be supportive.

Peter shook his head, then winced. "No, it's- gah, it's hard to explain. That's the biggest hurdle with even wanting to admit this to you guys. If I knew what it was, or had a point of reference, it might be easier to talk about, but…"

"...It's taken a new form you didn't recognize, and you're not sure what to say about it without digging too deep into your past?" Wanda supplied.

The mutant nodded, laying back into the bean bag with a groan. "We're not sure what to think about it, or do about it, or how long it'll be this way, or if there's anything to help with it. On top of that, some of us don't even want to open up about it. I-It's weakness, it's vulnerability, and admitting there's something wrong, but there shouldn't be anything wrong, we need to be flawless and thoughtless-"

Peter, Weaver called loudly, making sure the mutant was paying attention to him as opposed to that spiral of thoughts. Relax, we're no longer there… and you're sharing things you probably shouldn't have, if you didn't want to concern her.

Wanda had fallen silent, staring at Peter with a mixture of concern and quiet realization. Pursing her lips, she asked, "Is this… why you had those thoughts from earlier? That was the second thing I wanted to talk about, and I imagine you didn't purposefully bring it up, but… you can't keep that to yourself."

Peter knew exactly what she was talking about, though the pressure against his lungs wished he didn't. It wasn't a thought he'd wanted, nor had any of them, but it'd intruded into the conversation nonetheless. He was still disoriented from the prior events, and it took Rose shaking his shoulders for awareness to return. He couldn't remember entering the Mind Prison, and he sat still, momentarily confused, until the memories caught up to him. Then it all returned; the breakdown at the attempted kidnapping, feeling distant and buzzing with static as shock enveloped him like a blanket, as well as what Weaver did to get them out of that situation.

The concern came next, questioning how he'd lost his control and ended up in their inner world, while Weaver had been pulled to the front. Was that something that was going to happen often? Why'd it even happen in the first place? He was grateful that Weaver had managed to handle the situation while he was incapacitated, but… an unnerved, uneasiness had settled over his core as he wondered if one of the others could shut him away from control completely. It was helplessness, fear, but also… a deep-seated, loathing relief that surged through him. Maybe he could disappear, completely one day-

Peter felt Weaver probing at him, mentally asking if he was okay enough to step back up. So he had, returning to the conversation in full once Weaver had confirmed it was okay. The headache returned, but it wasn't distracting enough to avoid discussing what had actually happened. It had felt weird, explaining a situation he hadn't directly been there for- Weaver deserved all the credit, but they didn't know about him, so he couldn't receive it- and he idly wondered if the others would've felt the same way if they were to explain parts of their history to a stranger.

He was so, so relieved to know Weaver hadn't done anything that resulted in the death of their captors. Their memory of what had happened after charging the van was painfully blank thanks to fainting, and though the mask refused to admit it, Peter could tell he was similarly happy to know they weren't dead. And, when the conversation came to Weaver's bravery in the face of escaping another captive situation, his lungs had clenched at the painful reminder of the captivity they just recently escaped from. Thankfully, he was broken out of that spiral before it could go much further. The mutant didn't want to worry his guardians any more than he needed to.

Then Pepper had asked the question that still sat like a stone in Peter's stomach, "I don't want you sacrificing your own well-being for me in the future, okay?"

It felt… weird, and Peter wasn't sure what to think about it. While the others argued their own views on what that meant ("Of course we won't, death isn't exactly pleasant," came Rose's response, though that didn't sit well with Weaver, who had responded with, "What, and ignore what we were trained to follow? We're disposable, they're not. They can remake us however many times they want and bring us back from the dead again, and it's no issue because our higher-ups are still alive."), he sat there, confused yet conflicted. Was his life and well-being really that important to them? He was no stranger to death, so what was the problem? It was just the natural thing to do.

It was why, when Wanda gave her response, the stone settled deeper in his stomach. He didn't get it, couldn't dream to understand why they'd be so opposed to him throwing himself into the line of fire for any of them. And as the bickering worsened ("Are you serious? We matter more than they do. What do you think is accomplished by dying for someone else?" "Our purpose was to be a weapon. Not an individual. They've done far better for the world than any of us have, so if it's their life or ours, let them keep theirs."), Peter's own thoughts on the matter became more conflicting. So, he eventually settled it by closing it altogether. If it wasn't discussed, they wouldn't have to think about it, right?

As he returned from the depths of his memories, the former asset swallowed a knot in his throat and muttered, "Is it… really that odd?"

Wanda got up and moved to the second bean bag in the room, and pulled it up next to Peter's. There was nothing on her face but a serious, worried expression. With a gentle shake of her head, she confirmed, "While thought processes like that aren't entirely foreign… that exact train of thought is very HYDRA."

The word sent a chill down Peter's spine as his thoughts came to a stuttering halt, and the others held their breath. None of them dared to move, until Mayflower gently prompted with a steadfast tap, It's okay, Peter. It's safe to talk about it.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, the defensive approach he'd taken crumpled to the ground, and Peter lowered his walls enough to show how he was feeling. His shoulders hunched apprehensively, and he wrapped his arms around his knees like a life-line. He felt suddenly very vulnerable, and very fragile, like one wrong step would break him into pieces. The feeling of exposure felt so raw and foreign that he was half-tempted to bring back up his facades again and hide behind indifference, or even disgust; something that wasn't showing the deep-seated fear that sat, dormant, beneath every action and thought.

"That's what I was worried about," he whispered, struggling to push the words out before they clammed up altogether. "They're still here. They've still got a hold of us."

Wanda pursed her lips, staring down at her own lap. "If you're up to sharing, I'm open to listen. I… was once part of HYDRA, too."

Peter blinked, momentarily snapped out of his swirling thoughts, to fix a dazed look at Wanda. "Really? I… we didn't know that."

"They kept you pretty sheltered, so I wouldn't be surprised," the witch said softly, staring apprehensively at her lap. She took a moment to think about what she would say, before launching into the story. "It's kind of dumb, looking back on it now. And yet, had it not happened… I don't know where I'd be. My brother and I- I had a twin brother, his name was Pietro, which is, ironically, 'Peter' in Sokovian- lived a somewhat normal life in our home country, Sokovia… until our apartment building was devastated by a mortar shell when we were ten. Our parents were, mercifully, killed on impact. My brother and I were less lucky; we'd gone to hide under a bed, in case more bombs fell, and in the process, ended up trapped under rubble.

"A second shell landed a good three feet in front of us, and for some reason, didn't detonate. We were left, stuck, staring at a weapon that could've killed us at any time… reading the name 'Stark Industries," Wanda paused, and before Peter could ask, she continued, "I know now it wasn't Tony that had launched that attack, but rather his traitorous former partner, Obadiah Stane and his terrorist thugs. But we didn't know that at the time.

"Two days later, we were finally rescued… but by that point, we'd grown a bitter hatred of Tony Stark, and, when the Avengers arrived on the scene, them as well. I'm not proud of it, but we even organized protests against the very organization I'm now a part of, and as a result, we attracted attention. SHIELD saw our political aims as a threat… but HYDRA saw it as an opportunity."

"They took advantage of that, didn't they?" Peter said, though it was less a question and more a statement.

Wanda nodded sadly. "We were naive, back then. Sokovia was a mess of a war zone, and my brother and I rioted to drive them away, and only learned later HYDRA was behind it. One of their leaders at the time, Doctor List, said that he could give us the strength needed to bring peace to Sokovia again."

Doctor List? Weaver asked, frowning deeply. I… think I remember him in passing, mentioned by Bloom during one of his prosthetic improvement sessions. He always did ramble a lot.

"I was… initially hesitant. Why were we given this opportunity now, when the riots had been going for some time? But Pietro eventually convinced me, and we went back to HYDRA with List. Along with some other volunteers, we underwent a series of tests where we were all exposed to energy from the Scepter," Wanda let out a huff at that, shaking her head. "Sorry, you probably don't know the Scepter. It held the Mind Stone; y'know, the stone that's currently lodged in Vision's forehead? It's kind of ironic that the same stone that gifted me powers is the thing that's giving my boyfriend his enhanced autonomy.

"Anyways, it… didn't work out so well for the other volunteers. It actually killed them, and I'm still unsure why Pietro and I survived when everyone else died. Maybe we'd already had latent superpowers? It doesn't matter. Pietro gained super-speed, and I pretty much gained a lot of the basic mental abilities you'd typically attribute to psychics. HYDRA was deeply pleased at this, and we… were none the wiser."

Peter shifted uncomfortably, pulling out of his hunched, huddled position to achieve a slightly more comfortable, curled position. "How'd you escape?"

Wanda flashed him a sad smile. "I'm sad to say it was much easier than the horrible time you had, achieving freedom. The Avengers raided the research base in Sokovia and took the Scepter, and in the chaos, we left our holding cells and ran. Not to flee, but to attack. I defended Strucker, the head leader at that branch, and attacked Steve. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to let him know, but I wasn't exactly some well-trained fighter. Another moment I'm less than proud of, aside from throwing Steve down the stairs, was messing with Tony.

"I… played to his trauma and his PTSD, in my bitter hatred of the billionaire. I convinced him that the Chitauri invasion was just the beginning; that somehow, Strucker had gotten another communication through with a dead Leviathan. Earth was being invaded, the Avengers were dead, and… he was helpless. His true fear was leading humanity to its doom, and I took that fear and the Scepter, and hoped he'd bring his own self-destruction."

The mutant swallowed thickly, conflicted at this information. He understood where she was coming from, but at the same time… he couldn't help but wonder how horrible it would be, to have your own worst fears turned against you. He shuddered, withdrawing deeper into the bean bag, and elected to ignore that train of thought before he spiralled again. Instead, he said softly, "...Does Tony know this?"

Wanda nodded. "I've even apologized. After everything, we… ended up talking a lot. About why I had my vendetta, and how that situation had happened in the first place. How the entire thing was an unfortunate misunderstanding, with two evil, manipulating forces. Thankfully, the thing that should've led Tony to his own destruction was what opened mine and Pietro's eyes to reality.

"You're probably aware of the Ultron incident, at least in passing. I've no doubt you were out doing things when it happened. In looking into Ultron's thoughts, I discovered his true intention of destroying humanity, and that's what finally convinced Pietro and I that what we were doing was misguided. We joined the Avengers in their battle against Ultron in Seoul in the hopes that we could, in some way, use HYDRA's 'gift' to reverse the damage we'd helped cause. It worked, and, through some weird circumstances, Vision came to be. But then, Ultron's main body went after Sokovia's Novi Grad, and… we couldn't let him hurt our home. We went with the Avengers to fight against him, and destroy him, one last time. And we did… though that came with a cost."

"...It was Pietro, wasn't it?" Peter softly asked. When Wanda glanced at him curiously, he concluded, "It'd be weird that all of the Avengers live in the Compound… except your brother."

Wanda nodded, letting out a shaky breath. As she wrapped herself in a loose hug, she said, "Clint was a life-saver. When I was at my worst, he lifted me out of my despair and gave me a purpose. As Avengers, both Pietro and I helped to the best of our abilities to contain the destruction and save our people. And Pietro, my brave, idiotic brother… leapt in front of Clint and a young boy as Ultron tried to shoot them down with a quinjet."

Peter pursed his lips, unsure what to do as tears slowly drifted down Wanda's face. Staring uncomfortably at his hands, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure he would've been nice to meet, but… his sacrifice sounds noble, if it's any consolation."

She huffed out a half-laugh, and swiped at her eyes. "It is… thank you," Wanda cleared her throat, pushing through to conclude, "We'd gotten everyone out, except for me, but Vision saved me and the town was destroyed by Tony and Thor. It's not as… interesting of a story on how I joined the Avengers as, say, Vision's, but it is what it is."

Peter gave her a wry smile. "So I guess you can thank HYDRA-" he winced a bit at the word, but shook it off and finished, "- for you being an Avenger, huh?"

Wanda flashed him a crooked smile. "I guess in a weird, twisted way, yeah. You, Bucky, and I will have that in common."

Oh, now that's funny, Weaver huffed, mildly amused. Because we're definitely going to be an Avenger.

The mutant wrinkled his nose. "Us… as an Avenger? That's… I mean, the notion is nice, but… I don't think we're remotely ready for that sort of thing. If we'll ever be."

"Don't feel pressured to become a superhero," Wanda said, giving him a playful shove. "It'd be kind of funny to have someone in the Compound doing something totally normal, like an office job, for a change."

Peter huffed a laugh at that, but frowned as the earlier conversation returned to his thoughts. Bitterly, he muttered, "I don't know, the mess of sacrificial thoughts would probably align pretty well with the heroic mentality, no?"

The young woman let out a sigh, reminded of the prior discussion. "I'm probably not the best person to be speaking against this, since I've attempted to sacrifice myself before, but…" Wanda sat up to fix Peter with a hard stare. "There's a difference between a necessary sacrifice and martyrdom."

"Which is?" The teenager asked, skeptically.

"Okay, how do I put this…" Wanda mused, before saying, "A martyr will recklessly endanger their own life if there's even a slim possibility their death could contribute to a principle they believed. A necessary sacrifice, on the other hand, would be if someone would die regardless, and making a choice with the least amount of consequences. What HYDRA conditioned you to- not sure if it's just you or if it's shared with the others in your head- is martyrdom for the sake of their wants. Tell me, was it conditional to put HYDRA's well-being above your own? Were you dispensable? Did they ask you to die if put into an impossible condition?"

"What's Protocol Icarus for?" came Scrappy's grating voice.

"Oh, it was something the boss wanted put in as a failsafe," Hornet replied from his spot on the nearby chair. He gestured a hand flippantly at Peter, concluding, "It's been broken into him already to defend us at all costs, but Ace realized we didn't have a contingency in place in the event that Weaver gets backed into an inescapable situation. Protocol Icarus is there to have him kill himself if such a situation arises. Of course, it's a bit flawed at the moment- we'd have to trigger that command into action first- but Ace said the boss deemed it a better alternative than our specimen going to an enemy alive."

"This job is your absolute most important, which means it must be done perfectly. There's no room to play around, there's no room for error, and there's absolutely no room for getting captured. It will undoubtedly be your deadliest mission yet," Scrappy's voice repeated in his memory, the man's voice gruffer than the older memory's. "Which is why you may take your best gear and as much equipment and firepower as you need. You may take as much time completing the mission as it takes to do it without mistakes. If you get caught, you are to take the pill embedded in your jaw immediately. Failure means death. If we find that you are captured, and are unable to take the pill, we will exercise any means necessary to ensure you are killed. The targets are too important to allow for such a contingency. Are the parameters clear?"

"...Peter?" Wanda's voice snapped him back to reality, and Peter stared around the room, momentarily dazed, before returning his attention to the young Avenger. Her eyebrows were furrowed. "Are you alright?"

Peter felt like he'd been hit with a brick and doused in cold water as the pieces clicked into place. At the same time, a bubbling frustration surged to the forefront; how hadn't he realized it for what it was earlier? God, I'm an idiot. No wonder Wanda wanted to talk about this.

If it makes you feel any better, Rose and Weaver seemed equally as ignorant to that as well, Araneae piped up.

Shut it, eight legs, Weaver growled, though there was no spite to his words. The mask, conflicted, muttered, I mean, deep down, I knew there was something off about that logic, but it was all I knew. All I'd been taught to care about. How were we- how was I- supposed to know that logic was flawed?

That's what I was trying to point out, Rose huffed, rolling her eyes. She normally would've been bitter about it, but something still felt odd to her. But I don't know why I knew there was something wrong with it.

Burying his face in his hands, Peter said, "I'm so tired of this programming. I never even considered… how much of what we know is wrong? How much did they take without any of us realizing it? Ugh, no wonder Pepper was so worried, we've been worrying you all for no reason, without even considering how ungrateful it would look to the people that saved us and took us in despite being terrible-"

Peter's spiralling, this time, was interrupted by a projected feeling of calm, warmth, happiness, safety- and as those impressions grounded him, the mutant noticed Wanda's eyes were glowing red again. He took a deep breath and muttered, "Sorry… and thanks."

Wanda gave him a reassuring smile. "It's alright," she then furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. "Sorry, am I… going too far, using my powers like this? I've noticed… Weaver, I think, doesn't really like it, and you get uncomfortable, too."

The assassin shifted uncomfortably, but admitted, "It feels very… personal. Like, you're invading my- our- safe space, the only thing we thought was entirely ours, so it's just… weird, I guess? But I don't think any of us are entirely opposed to you doing this. Calming us down, I mean."

It definitely makes my job a bit easier, especially since you sometimes don't listen to me, Weaver responded wryly.

I find it very cool! Ben enthused, grinning ear to ear. It's like having someone on the outside that can somewhat understand, y'know?

Peter blinked at that implication, taken aback. He hadn't even considered that, but now that it'd been mentioned… that could be the case, if they just let her. Turning to Wanda, still appalled, he asked, "Ben just brought up something incredibly brilliant. You'd be able to understand us better because of your powers, right? Would you… want to help us navigate 'this'? The whole… more than one of us thing, the Avengers thing, this whole… 'normal' that we need to learn?"

Wanda gave a nod, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Of course I'd love to. It'd be my pleasure to help where I can. Any place, any time, just let me know and I'll do my best to accomodate you."

At those words, a weight lifted off his shoulders that Peter hadn't even known was there. An answer to the argument they'd had days earlier, wondering where to even begin navigating the world, these thoughts, the issue of opening up to the other Avengers and wording it in ways they'd understand… all given a direction with Wanda's help. It wouldn't give immediate results, and he'd likely still need to do some things on his own, but… it was a relief, to know that he had someone to fall back to.

Giving Wanda a smile of his own, he said, "Thank you."

The young woman ruffled his hair, and as Peter wrinkled his nose, she replied, "You're welcome, друзья-пауки."

The morning broke over the horizon, and the rays crept through the curtains to paint the room with light. Ben's nose scrunched as one of the sunbeams hit his cheek, and sat up with a sigh. Blinking the sleep away, he blearily got up to brush the curtains the rest of the way open, then looked in awe at the beautiful sunrise. A smile crept onto his face, and the little found himself grateful for a new day.

Then the realization hit him, that he was, somehow, in control of their body, instead of Peter. The smile fell, replaced by confusion, as Ben stared at his hands. They weren't the same as when he'd last used them, over a decade prior- one was no longer flesh, but rather cold metal, and the other was littered with scars long since healed that had replaced the once smooth skin. This was… weird, but nothing Ben wanted to worry about. If the others weren't active enough to contest him running around in the body, he'd take the opportunity to explore some on his own.

That went well for all of fifteen minutes. Ben had left the building to explore the spacious wooded grounds around the Compound, curious to see what he could find at the break of dawn. He'd given Steve and Sam a wave as he walked past them as they ran laps, though hadn't felt inspired to join in on their running. Instead, he'd approached the tree line (This seems familiar, it must've been a place they'd seen while they were camped in the nearby trees on their assassination mission, a thought whispered), and breathed in the fresh air. It felt great to be outside.

Movement caught Ben's attention, and his senses pinpointed what it was before his eyes found it; there was a small, furry feline in the nearby bushes, staring right back at him. The little tilted his head curiously, before a bright grin spread across his face.

"Oh, you're a cat!" He'd vaguely remembered what they used to look like, from ones he'd seen prior to HYDRA. It looked a bit weird for a cat, but he'd heard that there could be some odd ones. He crouched to rest on his knees, right hand extended to lure the feline closer. "Hi, kitty! Don't worry, I know I kinda look sketchy, but I'm friendly!"

It's not like we asked to look unnerving thanks to the scars, came Rose's drawling voice, and the first one Ben had heard from the others all day.

Perking up a bit at that, Ben whispered, "Hiya, Rose! It's nice to see you're… awake? Up?" The little furrowed his eyebrows at that, not really sure what to call the term, even though he'd experienced it himself. Mentally shrugging it off, he concluded, "Look, I found a cat friend!"

That's a weird looking cat, Weaver chimed in, distrust radiating from the mask. Also, why are you fronting?

"I just kinda 'woke up' to being in the front, and no one was there to say I couldn't, so I've been active! And it let me find a cat friend!" Ben enthused, before frowning as a growl emerged from the nearby feline. Ben lowered his voice and coaxed, "Oh, sorry, I don't wanna upset you. I do wanna pet you though, so-"

His sentence was cut off by the feline dashing forward, fur fluffed up, and lashed out with sharp claws at the little. Pure instinct took over as the right arm raised to block the claws, and Ben winced at the sharp sound emitted from the keratin hitting metal. However, this gave him a better look at the cat; it was stocky, fluffy, had spotted stripes, droopy cheek fluff, tufted ears, and a short tail. The only thought that connected as the feline sprang away was, Oh. That's a weird looking cat. The feline stood a few feet away, bristling and poofed up, as if it was miffed its claws did nothing. It turned tail and ran further into the forest, and disappeared into the thick underbrush.

There was silence, for a few seconds, before Weaver broke it with a loud, What in the crap did you nearly get us into, Ben?!

Ben furrowed his eyebrow and lowered his hands. "I don't… really know. I just wanted to pet the kitty, but it was angry."

That thing tried to hurt us! Besides, why in the world would you try to pet anything in the wild? If we didn't have a metal arm, who knows what could've happened? Weaver huffed angrily.

Ben wilted at the beration. "I couldn't have known that. I'm sorry, W-"

"...Is everything alright, Peter?"

Ben jolted slightly, but turned to meet the curious gazes of Steve and Sam. Momentarily distracted from the cat ordeal, he perked up and said, "Oh, hi Steve, hi Sam! Yeah, everything is good."

The two heroes shared a cursory look at their ward's sudden enthusiasm, and decided there that, no, something was definitely not alright. The positive attitude was unexpected, coming from the young mutant; there must've been a reason for the abrupt change in attitude. So, Sam ventured, "Are you sure? You're not usually this… chipper."

Oh, this'll be good, Araneae chirped. Weavie, ya really let Ben front? I'm impressed, I never thought any of us would see the light of day with your strictness.

You're giving me too much credit, I'd never let Ben front willingly, Weaver bit back. And I'm Weaver, not Weavie. Stop calling me that!

Ben frowned slightly at that, as his attitude was completely normal! But it then clicked for the little; they thought he was Peter, not Ben. He bit his lip, half-tempted to make the correction, but knew his headmates wouldn't really be comfortable with that at the moment. So, instead, he replied, "Well… I can be pretty upbeat, I'm just usually not. But I am a little sad."

"About what?" Steve asked, hands on his hips.

Ben sighed, before moving to stand up from his crouched spot. "I found this pretty looking kitty and wanted to pet it, but it got mad, slashed at me, and ran off."

Sam blinked. "I'm sorry, it did what?"

Confused, the little repeated, "It ran off?"

"It scratched you? Where?" Steve moved closer, inspecting their young ward for signs of injury.

"Oh! It just hit my prosthetic. The poor thing was probably just scared of it," Ben said, words tinted in a sad tone. He rubbed the metal arm with a crestfallen look.

The two adults relaxed a bit at that revelation, though Sam was still confused. "What was a cat doing out here? The Compound doesn't have cats."

Steve nodded along, then turned to Ben, an unreadable expression on his face. "...Did the 'cat' look kind of stocky? With a small tail and pointed ears?"

Ben grinned and affirmed by nodding his head. "Yeah, it looked like that!"

The old hero let out a withering sigh. "Peter, that was a bobcat."

"The cat was named Bob?" The little questioned.

"No, Peter, it's a species of wild cat. They're bigger than domesticated cats. They're wild animals, and you should never, ever, try to pet one," Steve replied, though frowned. "Though bobcat attacks are rare. It must've been a mother that has kits nearby."

Sam glanced out into the forest. "We'll have to send out an alert to stay away from this part of the forest, then, until they move away."

Ben blinked, frowning. "So… that wasn't a cat I could pet?"

Steve literally just said you can't pet it, Ben, Weaver muttered.

Steve let out a huffing laugh. "No, it definitely wasn't, like I said. But if you really want to pet cats that bad, I'm sure there's some place in New York that'd let us do it."

"Actually, that reminded me of something Pepper brought up to me, that I thought was a good idea. She suggested seeing about getting you a therapy animal, or maybe even a service animal, depending on what Strange suggested," Sam said as the three of them walked away from the forest. "I said it was a good idea, but only if you'd be comfortable with it."

A therapy animal? What's that supposed to mean? Rose asked, curious.

Service animal? As in, an animal that would do something for us? Why? Weaver questioned.

Deciding to voice those questions, Ben simply replied, "What're those?"

Sam hummed in thought, deciding how to word it. Finally, he stated, "Well, there's technically four different classifications and registries for pets; an assistance animal, a service animal, an emotional support animal, and a therapy animal. But, to put them simply, a therapy animal is a pet determined by a therapist to help the healing process of someone going through therapy. Emotional support animals are pets determined by a psychiatrist or a mental health professional to help assist someone with disability-related needs. A service animal is technically always a dog, and it's a dog that's specifically trained to help individualized disabilities, regardless of how that disability manifests. Lastly, an assistance animal provides similar capabilities a service animal does, but it's not limited to dogs."

So… he's basically saying he thinks we need an animal to function. Grand, Weaver grumbled bitterly.

Do we? Rose pondered with a frown. It's pretty obvious we're a horrendous mess, not including our weird cohabitating identity situation. I wouldn't want to ever admit we'd need an animal to cope, but would it be better for our collective good?

Ben's obviously going to say yes, since he likes animals so much, Araneae remarked, though added, But that should definitely be a group decision. Okay, Ben?

Ben bit his lip, but let out a sigh of acknowledgement. Yeah, he supposed it was fair to let that be a group decision. So, he said, "Can I… think about it? I'm not sure how to feel about that."

Steve and Sam both gave nods, and Sam replied, "Oh, definitely. It's a big decision, and a somewhat lengthy process, so it's not something that should be remarked on right away. We don't know exactly what you'd need anyways, without an assessment from Strange."

"Speaking of which," Steve cut in, "He let us know last night that he wants to do a check-up on you later today, whenever you're feeling up to it. He's currently got a lab-turned-medical space on the second floor, so just head there when you're ready."

Ben gave them both an enthusiastic grin and a nod, and the two walked away with one last confused look. When they were out of range, though, Ben stayed behind, leaning heavily against the outside of the Compound. "I kinda got interrupted earlier. I really am sorry, Weavie. I hadn't realized it could've been a dumb idea to pet anything I wasn't familar with."

Weaver's response came after a few moments, as the mask contemplated the apology. It's… alright, Ben. I'm sorry for getting so uptight earlier, as well. My fight or flight wanted to kick in, and I was still caught on the adrenaline from the encounter. I was… harsher than need be. I shouldn't really have expected you'd know any better, since, well… you're you. So… yeah.

An apology? From Weaver? Now this is rich, Rose drawled snarkily.

Hey, I can admit when I overstep my boundaries sometimes, Weaver hissed back, though frowned. Though that has reminded me… where's Mayflower and Peter? Has anyone heard from them yet?

Hah, 'heard' from Mayflower. The mute girl. Real nice wording there, Weaver, Rose mused, though sighed. But, nope. Haven't seen 'em, either.

The Mind Prison ain't that big. Where the crap could they be? Weaver asked. You guys would know it better than I would, so any input would be appreciated.

Oh, uh, hi. Sorry, I just didn't think my input was needed, came Mayflower's taps. Would you guys want me to be more 'vocal'?

Ben smiled. "Hi, Flower! I'd always love it if my friend participated more, but you don't have to feel pressured to!"

'Friend'? You guys can be friends? When'd that happen? Weaver questioned.

If we're different enough to look and speak different, we're individual enough to have friendships, Araneae remarked. But they've been close for a while, if that's what you wanted the answer to.

When'd you guys have the time for that where I wasn't aware of it? The mask continued, taken aback.

Not all of us are 'asleep' at the same time, y'know. It also wasn't like we just up and vanished for years on end completely. That sort of thing just isn't part of the collective memory, strangely. I don't really get it, Rose concluded with a shrug.

"So Weavie, Rosey, Ara, Flower, and I are here. Now we just need to find Pete!" Ben enthused.

You called? Peter remarked. There was an odd edge to his voice that Ben couldn't quite place, though it felt out of place to the little.

Peter! Where have you been? We definitely could've used your input earlier, Weaver remarked, his words a bit bitter at the end.

I noticed. The whole service animal thing, yeah? Peter asked, before sighing. It feels a bit odd, to rely on an animal, waging my own opinion in. But I suppose we can wait until that check-up with Strange to see what he thinks.

Ignoring the question on where you were, huh Peter? Sorry dude, you ain't that slick, Rose chimed in, raising an eyebrow. Aren't you, like, always aware of what's going on outside or something? Why'd you only reply when we tried to find you?

There was a stagnant pause, before Peter responded quietly, Does it really matter?

Something wasn't right here. There was something icky about the situation, and Peter's responses, and it was mildly frustrating that Ben couldn't figure out what it was. He'd known Peter a long time, and this behavior was… new. He just couldn't tell whether it was a bad new or a good new.

Wh- of course it matters! You're Peter! The- uh- the one that's always in control! The one that's always been in the body! Of course we'd be worried when you just up and say nothing and we can't find you. Weaver fretted.

An uncomfortable weight pressed against Ben's lungs, and it was only after a second that Ben realized the sensation was not his own, but rather, Peter's. Confused, Ben was about to look into a further, when an uncomfortable tugging sensation pulled at the edges of his consciousness. With a wince, Ben's control slipped as Peter took over.

The mutant's nose wrinkled at the odd sensation, but elected to ignore it. "It's fine. Look, I'm back in control now. That's what you all wanted, yeah? So let's just leave it there. We've got other crap to worry about."

Fine. But we're talking about this later, before the service animal thing, Weaver relented.

Peter simply huffed, before pushing off the wall. He entered the Compound, more than eager to find something that would keep the others occupied and not thinking of his absence. Perhaps he'd go pay the good doctor an early visit? The mutant gave himself a nod, and went on his way to visit Strange. Despite his wishes for it to be forgotten, however, apprehension lingered behind.

And, around the corner, so too did Tony.