Author's Notes: Ugh. I've been meaning to get two or so chapters out this weekend. But between shopping for cosplay, Baltimore Comic Con, and now Ren Fest? I've been busy. So.
spize666: *blushes madly* I-I'm so glad you like the pairing and art. I'll be calling them Zanny, BTW. 'Cause it's close to 'zany'. And that's fun. I study Danny when watching the show and think about how he reasons and feels. Really, it's just like acting out any other character - though writing Splinter from TMNT has made me feel more confident with him. :)
AsgardianGrizzly: That's so wonderful to hear! Thank you. How do I? Well, let me answer at the end of this chapter, okay? :)
Windy: Thank you for the reviews, lovely! Love hearing other's thoughts. :)
Disclaimer: Ultimate Spider-Man is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. That's Marvel's job. Any Original Characters and art you note, however, are all me. No. I'm not making money. Don't rub it in.

Chapter 11 - Wake-Up

Hey…

Ugh. What was that horrendous noise?

Wake up…

It sounded like an eighty-year-old smoker that just ran a triathlon.

Wake up…

Did he hit the pavement after that blast? He must have. And now he's just been found by a raunchy-smelling night worker, hasn't he? Where the hell was Parker?

Dammit. I said, wake up!

Sam's eyes shot open quicker than they ever had before. And the jolt through his aching limbs animated him in strange ways that left him growling. Through the sting, he leveled his pounding head so the two blurred figures ahead felt every ounce of his displeasure.

"The hell is wrong with you?" asked the Hispanic with a snarl. His words were slurred, though. And hoarse. Very annoying.

"We gave you plenty of chances to wake," one figure hissed while Sam coughed. Yeah, he was the one that had spoken in the hero's semi-conscious state; the stench and weird accent gave it away. "I'm done being nice."

"Dude,"—Sam wheezed—"have you ever heard of a breath mint? Or a shower? Le Sewer isn't exactly a lady-attractor."

"Unfortunately, those are luxuries we don't have. Thanks to your director."

Such malice at one little word. Sam scoffed then blinked to focus his vision a bit more. Slowly, the blurs of peach, yellow, gray, magenta, and teal melded into place—until his whereabouts grew as clear as its stench.

An old butcher room. Really? Of all the clichés available, they picked this? Disgusting. Traces of petrified meat still clung to the dingy, cement floor and the yellowed-walls looked like their last cleaning came over a decade ago. The faint buzzing of flies drifted about, though the temperature felt too cool for them to be active. And of course Sam hung from one of the many high poles, numb arms chained above his head as his feet barely touched the ground.

That could be a good thing, however, since his feet were apparently bare. Wait. The hero wiggled his toes, legs, shoulders, and then fingers. They felt light. 'Oh, shit.'

"Looking for something?"

Sam's glare darkened tenfold from simply watching the buff blonde—Kevin Weir—run a finger across the smooth red-star on his Nova helmet. "Hey, lay off the paint-job, Weir!"

Kevin turned to him, unfazed. "We removed it just to see your face. Interesting how your uniform changed as well. I take it you aren't much without it…are you?"

"Otherwise he would have escaped by now," injected a new, smoother voice with a twin accent. It sounded strangely friendly, yet its Asian owner's sneer emanated anything but kindness.

"You"—Sam studied the feather-clad mutant a moment longer—"you're the one who was fighting Spider-Man."

"Until I was called to ground you, yes."

"Where is he?"

"Left to deliver a message," Kevin answered monotonously. The young man rubbed the Nova helmet again in a way that caused Sam's blood to boil and then he worked his way towards his prisoner in calm steps. "He's going to give Fury the chance to trade you for my sister."

"Good luck with that," retorted Sam without thought and a grim tone.

Kevin's small smirk turned strained. "Thanks. It won't be easy or quick, but I'll get my sister back."

"SHIELD isn't the kind to give into demands."

"They're the kind that makes them. Believe me; I know."

"Do you?"

The fair blonde laughed. Actually laughed. It was a bitter action, short. And Sam regarded him with narrowed eyes when he smiled.

"Working directly under Fury, yet you still know so little."

"What's there to know?" retorted the Hispanic, a light smirk on his lips. "Your town went bonkers. You didn't want Fury's help. Your sister killed an agent. Now he's upset."

Thwack! Sam's cheek stung after a powerful force met it. Blood's metallic taste poured across his tensed tongue, which he used to corral the substance into a clean spit. The Hispanic grimaced at the red splatter now by his feet, running his tongue over a long cut inside his mouth.

Damn, did he miss his helmet.

"I bet you just blindly listen to Fury, don't you, dog?" snarled Kevin deeply. "Where he says there's bad guys, there must be, because for damn sure he puts Earth's citizens above all else."

Sam flashed a weak smile. "Well, he harps on me about their safety all the time. So."

"You think humor is what's going to get you through this?"

"No; that's Spider-Man's shtick."

Yes, the tables were turning. Sam was ready to round up a haughty smirk, even, especially when his blonde captor joined the bird mutant several steps away. The two exchanged a look, only their attention returned to the Hispanic not with annoyance or hatred. Rather, weariness overcame them like a rain cloud cast by years of distress, and Kevin's head shook as if disappointed in a child.

"What?" Sam asked tartly.

"Nothing"—Kevin sounded sincere—"I know your kind. You don't understand, you just roll with what comes…"

Sometimes the wisest thing to do is to understand before acting.

Why did Danny's words suddenly fill Sam's mind? Fortune Cookie was just over-reacting; Sam understood plenty! At least when it came to the things that mattered. So how could his stomach possibly have sunk in slight pity when Kevin's steely blue eyes glanced over him?

"Two days," Kevin started, listless yet also quite dangerous. "Fury has two days for some kind of response. If there are none, you stay here. If by day three there's still no activity, I'll go to my second plan."

"And, uh, what is that exactly?" Sam questioned through words uncertain.

"I get you to spill SHIELD's secrets."

The pity vanished. Though the statement had been whispered, it held more weight than an elephant. Especially when Kevin's electricity danced over him as well the Nova helmet he attempted to crush between his strong grip. The words loomed over the vacant room even while some final echoes of Kevin's boots and bird-man's talons diminished.

Sam was left breathless as the door slammed shut behind them and his gaze fell to his own blood.

Danny's mind was swimming. Sure, he remained composed on the outside. But on the inside, he fiercely attempted to keep from drowning in dread and screaming in frustration. If he were the kind to incorporate excuses into reasoning, he would say a great deal of his troubles stemmed from a lack of sleep. He knew, though, that insomnia had not been the cause. The cause ran deeper than that, prodding at his heart like a small barb set so deep in his chest that he sometimes had trouble breathing.

Anxiety. Doubt. Depression. Such emotions had been felt before—in a time Danny had long-since pushed out of mind. They awoke fragments of memories. Snarls. Coldness. Screams. Blood. All of which seized him in ways he no longer thought possible. Yet they did. He sat, fully aware of how heavy his body felt, and vaguely registered someone's voice.

"Danny? …Danny. Hey…wake up!"

Danny jumped—not because he had been touched physically, but because a loud 'pop' startled him out of his reverie. Mouth agape, the blonde met Zeelan's wide eyes beyond the glass wall between them. He gripped tight to the crumpled bandana-mask in his hands, and, for a moment, reeled at the irises that resembled polished coal. He watched himself blink in their reflection then sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

"Forgive me, Z," he said rigidly, "I was lost in thought."

"Obviously," replied Zeelan in her rich Midwestern accent. She sat back on her bare feet. "You, uh, were answering a question for me."

He was? His face must have blanked because the mutant's semi-tan features saddened.

"You were telling me how Spider-Man's doing," she continued softly.

Danny nodded. "Right. Sorry. He's doing well. His fight with Kai left him with minor wounds, but the damage Kevin inflicted on his nervous system"—the blonde noted grimly that Z's eyes grew glossy—"he fell a long way to escape. In a way, that was wise. Any longer and your brother could have done permanent damage."

"He just…he thinks he's protecting the others. That's all." The mutant's small voice was filled with desperation and sorrow. And the hero spared her a warm smile of encouragement.

"While I can't say I'm fine with what Kevin has done to Spider-Man," he started. "I believe you're right. Don't worry, though. Spider-Man's enhanced healing means he'll be confined to a bed for only three days—not the recommended two months a normal human would have to endure."

"Just three days?"

"Yes. Keeping him stationary has proven a near-impossible feat; however, the right people on watch have ensured he hasn't been in the field prematurely. For now."

"That's…good. Uh…m—my brother interrupted his and Nova's mission, right?"

Danny eyed the mutant that rubbed her bare arm, saying simply, "Yes."

"What kind was it?"

His first instinct was to ask why, yet he bit down the urge and instead strengthened his lotus position. "A simple guard mission for a blood bank. A pick-up was supposed to take place, which would transfer vital blood from the bank into a carrier's hands that would then transfer it across the globe."

Blinking, Z furrowed her white brows. "The blood couldn't just be shipped?"

"Too valuable to risk loss or contamination."

"But with people like SHIELD to back it up, I'm sure something could have been worked out."

"It had been. Through the carrier."

"Was the carrier an agent?"

"No."

"That sounds unreasonable. You would think SHIELD would use you as carriers in that case."

"You're a very rational person. Z," remarked Danny with a light laugh.

A blush quickly darkened Z's grimace. "S—sorry. Tangent. How, uh, how important was the blood?"

"Very," the hero answered—laughter now dead. "The place may not look like much, but it's a cover. The labs there deal with…special blood. The package was going to save a young boy's life.'

"…Was?"

"Unfortunately, during the fight, the blood was targeted. There were hints it would be, and that's why SHIELD's help was called for. The thief took the blood and its sister samples under their noses, before the carrier even arrived. There aren't any more to be sent. The boy…" No, he couldn't finish the sentence; the very words weighed his mouth shut.

"So"—Z spoke with pursed lips and a hushed tone—"my brother's interference cost someone their life?"

"Inadvertently…yes." The mutant sighed under Danny's even stare, but the blonde managed to regain her gaze with a raised finger. "Feel no guilt, Zeelan; you hold no account in this failure."

"Oh, I don't feel guilty," answered Z frankly. She paused in an instant then shook her head. "Uh, there I go being insensitive again."

"Honesty and insensitivity often go hand-in-hand; however"—Danny smiled—"they are tempered by sincerity. Your sincere heart should not chastise itself."

A loss of words. That's how he could describe Zeelan's expression. It seemed strange she would be taken so aback by such a simple statement. Only after a long moment of silence did the blonde wave his hand before the glass until Z's trance broke.

"If that's the case then," she begun in a lighter tone, "I must say you're a weird one, Danny. But…that works for me. At least you don't get offended or annoyed like…well, almost everyone at home."

"At times, people prefer a sweet illusion to the truth, for its lure is less painful."

"Oh, tell me about it. Save for Thera and Dassie, I was basically ignored by the girls in school because I run on facts. It's just how I am. Guess my personality was too abrasive for the romantics…"

"Reality has its means of shattering even the strongest of fanciful expectations. You're fortunate in that you don't have to endure the numerous heartaches of broken illusions."

"U—U—uh"—Zeelan's eyes quickly averted as she mumbled through her accent—"well, thanks." A dark red may have fanned across her freckles. Danny couldn't be sure since her head ducked and her shoulders hunched, pushing thick locks of her frayed, curly hair into her vision. "A—anyways. My original thought. Again. I—I don't feel guilty about the mission. I mean, I feel bad for the boy. I do. But, more so…for the general situation. Between everyone. It seems like no matter how many good choices we try to make, they blow up in our faces."

"The path to success is paved with failure," noted Danny over the human's huff.

"So is the path to failure," she grumbled.

"The only failure is when one gives up."

"And you'll round this back to your belief lesson."

"Yes. As I have said, any goal can be achieved through belief. Goals only fail when you decide they fail."

"Some goals are just too big to achieve."

"They may be challenging, but not impossible."

"Sorry, Danny. Can't say I agree with that."

"Yet."

With a startled jolt of her head, Zeelan glanced up. Light reflections on the glass hit in such a way that half her face was hidden. Still, the hero could detect a small smile.

"You think you can convert me?" she asked in a challenging tone Danny knew well from living with friends.

"Yes, I do," he answered simply. "After all, I have convinced you that you can be free of solitary, right?"

"Speaking of which"—the mutant straightened—"you never did explain how you convinced Fury you should speak with me. You know, after I didn't cave yesterday."

"Oh…about that."

Zeelan grimaced. "You snuck in again."

Danny gave a strained grin. "Well, he was sleep—"

"Rand!"

"And now he's not."

Author's Notes: Things are looking up, eh? No. Well. That sucks for them. LOL. Hope you enjoyed more Zanny talk, though. Next time, we learn more about Zeelan's past! :)

AsgardianGrizzly: Keeping track? That's sort of a...loose idea in my book. It's a little hard to explain since it really just happens in my work. I keep in mind who I want to focus on and who deserves to be noted - even on a smaller scales. I think about the message I want each chapter to give and then decide who's POV would be the most impacting. Sometimes, an outsider viewing great emotion is stronger than the person feeling. There's no black and white way or strait answer to give. I recommend writing down your characters, their roles, and think about the plot points you want to use. Then brainstorm how you think the most powerful way to use them will be. :)