Lena Lena Lena Lena.

The name was the only word she was capable of thinking after Peter left. She liked the name. It gave her an identity of her own, but it was strange that she could form a better sense of herself with something as measly as a label. Additionally, she loved that Peter had helped her pick it out, and even though It had taken over 300 attempts, they eventually reached a consensus. It put a light feeling in her chest. She was getting close to happiness.

A scientist that was not Peter came in every day. She asked Lena questions limited to yes and no answers, as that was all Lena could verbally answer. If she had wanted, she could implant her words into the scientist's mind, but it took much more effort for someone that she did not have a connection with. Peter was her peirasmós. The channel between them was much more easily navigated than one with a total stranger.

Mr. Stark, the name that the man with the odd facial hair had, also had a speech therapist try and assist her with the first skill she had started to develop. It was her least favorite part of the day, as being told what to do was deeply irritating. No matter how many times she said any word she was given, it only felt like it got increasingly difficult.

Except for when she was with Peter.

With him, everything felt easier. He encouraged her in the way she needed, and in a way that was effective, rather than in a way that was condescending and annoying. Lena felt as if she had someone on her side. With the professionals, she knew that they were only there because Mr. Stark hired them. The progress she made with him was miles difference. He had a way of poking through her stubbornness that the scientists could not penetrate.

It made her wonder what her purpose in Mr. Stark's home served. She did not provide anything for Mr. Stark. There was no benefit to her presence. She was grateful that they had chosen to trust her, but it remained a mystery as to why.

A few days after Peter had helped named her, he took a day of his weekend to spend with her. She knew it was a weekend as he arrived in the morning instead of later in the afternoon.

The human construct of time was an interesting concept for her to grasp, but like most things, she had been catching on quickly. She discovered that she was a fast learner, it only took one or two explanations of these innate human concepts until she pretty thad them practically memorized.

It was a rare occasion where he was able to spend more than a few hours with her and in the past few months, there had been twice when he took a day of his weekend to dedicate to her. It was an extra blessing. A surprise. He already spent every weekday with her, but being able to spend over 12 hours talking and learning new words boosted her morale for the upcoming week.

She hummed a light melody while waiting for Peter, but her impatience was already growing. A fleeting thought crossed her mind. It was an idea that had continuously sat in the back of her head, but she had never had the energy to go through with it. The anticipation of waiting for Peter was getting the best of her, and if he didn't arrive soon, she would be doing the last thing anyone expected.

After a few more minutes, she was tired and bored of waiting, so she made the leap.

She swam to the bottom of her tank and into the farthest back corner. Shutting her eyes and peering up through the water, she swam forward as hard she could and propelled herself forward and up. Her arms exited first, followed by the rest of her body, and landed vigorously on the hard ground, rolling a few feet before coming to a painful stop. It left the upper part of her tail sore, and her entire body cold.

Conveniently, that was the precise moment that Peter decided to walk through the door. They made eye contact and she smiled a helpless smile, unsure of what his reaction was going to be.

"What- what are you doing?" his facial expression remain puzzled as he rushed over to her.

She could feel her tail drying, and the lack of moisture would turn them into the same limbs that Peter had. Her sisters had always forbidden her from doing this, the rope was an extra precaution, but now she was no longer under their jurisdiction.

"Are you able to survive outside of the water?" Peter looked incredibly perplexed. She nodded, smiling wider.

However, as the tail started to dissipate, the rope burned her skin. She heaved over in pain and gestured at them, barely able to say the word, "Sharp!"

He looked down at where she gesturing and rose to action, knowing what she needed. He stumbled around the lab, pulling open random drawers, shuffling through them, and moving on to a different one when he could not find anything. He stopped after pulling a switchblade from a drawer, murmuring something about not knowing why Mr. Stark would have one of these.

The tail had morphed into two pale, skinny legs, painfully pressed up against the rope binding them together. Peter gently slid the knife between them and sawed upwards. It took a minute, but the rope eventually snapped, revealing a deep indented scar from the years of tightly rubbing against her tail. She had not realized that she had grown used to the pain. She was numb to it.

After he had done the same on her ankles, he tore the plaid shirt he was wearing and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was an instant reminder of the human modesty rules that she was extremely unaccustomed to. Humans walked around in clothes that covered specifically all reproductive organs on the body, which was strange to her, but if it was what she had to do to be easily integrated into human life, she would follow the odd rules.

Peter brushed her hair out of her face and let his hand rest on her cheek for a moment, laughing. The way his touch felt was like home. Her only other home was a place she never wanted to return to, but now she had this boy who somehow felt even better than the Atlantic ocean. He jogged out of the room, most likely to find her some more clothes. So she sat, legs pulled to her chest, shivering underneath Peter's shirt.

She leaned over to her left side, examining the bottom half of her brand new legs. Taking her index finger, she traced the side of them, the texture being unfamiliar. She had skin on her arms, but the skin that replaced her scales differed. It was more coarse and thick, with soft blonde hair follicles protecting it.

He came back with a woman, someone Lena had never seen before.

"Can she stand?" the woman asked, looking slightly concerned. She was holding a pile of folded clothes in her hands.

Lena shook her head. She had seen the way that they walked upright, and it was a milestone that was miles away.

The woman sighed, "All right. Peter, I'm going to get her dressed, you go tell Tony what the deal is."

"Yeah, of course, Miss Potts."

There was something about Miss Potts that made Lena nervous. She had a disapproving glare permanently plastered on her face, but she helped the small girl get dressed nonetheless. It was a struggle and awkward series of pushes and pulls, but eventually, she was fully dressed, and Miss Potts had lost her breath.

She invited Peter back in, "Take her to Steve's old room. Lord knows he's not coming back," she pursed her lips, "Then we'll figure out physical therapy later. I've got too much on my plate to handle this."

"Thank you for all of your help, Miss Potts. I know you're a very busy lady and-"

"Don't worry about it, Peter," she sighed and left, appearing to leave a trail of steam behind her.

She was scooped up, her head resting on his shoulder blade. It was the first time she had seen anywhere outside of the lab, and all of a sudden the world felt a lot larger than she had anticipated, and that was just the inside of Mr. Stark's home. After walking up a few flights of stairs, Peter walked into a room with various sets of furniture and set her down on a soft structure.

"I guess this means a lot of new words, huh?" Peter sat next to her, "Below you, this is a bed. This room? A bedroom. Does that make sense?"

She mentally took note of each word. The bed was what she was sitting on. The bed was inside the room. The room was called a bedroom. She nodded at him.

"Great. Can you say them out loud?"

She released the air in her lungs.

"I know that you don't want to, but I also know you can," he looked down, searching for eye contact.

"Bed."

"Good one. You know half of the second word now."

"Bedr-room," she liked the way her lips wrapped around the letter 'M.'

"Good! Hey good job!" he lifted his hand, spreading his fingers out as if he wanted something from her. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, this is called a high-five. We can...we can go over that one later."