Chapter 1: Hide Away

I made the sequel within a year! Woo!

Honestly, I started writing this back in June, but nothing felt right until now. I'll put an author's rant at the end.

Some housekeeping:

- This is a sequel which continues where Stow Away left off. It is recommended that you read that one first, but I'm not the boss of you and I've had a blast reading certain series out of order, so you do you.

- This first chapter serves as a sort of recap, so prepare for spoilers/surprises if you haven't read Stow Away.

- As usual, any spider facts featured for the first time will be explained at the end of chapters.

- Stow Away began right after the episode "Savage Spider-Man", and nothing has gone exactly according to the show since. Assume this is an AU of the show with how different the order of events are.

- Aunt May and most recently MJ know about Peter being Spider-Man.

- I haven't seen/read much on Sam Wilson, nor have I experienced more than 30 minutes of counseling, so bear with me here.

I think that's everything. So, without further ado, enjoy the first 10k words of Hide Away!

Sam waited patiently for Peter to arrive. Honestly, he was expecting the kid to be a little late, but instead he came five minutes early.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson!" Peter greeted as he entered the office.

"Please, call me Sam."

"Um, fair warning, I'll probably end up calling you Mr. or Dr. Sam if I try, because I already know a Sam."

"Whatever works for you, then. Please, take a seat."

"Any seat?"

"Any seat."

Sam watched Peter fall immediately into the bean bag chair with a grin, only to clamber out so he could sit respectfully in the regular desk chair, despite the fact that the desk was against the side wall and not between the counselor and patient.

Sam hadn't met anyone this overly polite since Steve. And considering that Steve had grown up back in the 20s when social rules were almost law, that was saying something.

"So this isn't your first time seeing a counselor, is it?" Sam asked, settling more comfortably into his own chair in the hopes that Peter might also relax a bit.

"No, but the last two acted more as grief counselors, not . . . not a trauma counselor . . ." Peter answered, obviously nervous.

Sam smiled softly. "Don't focus too much on the terminology. No one wants to be known as traumatized. But this isn't about words or labels. This is about discussing some hardships you've been through and how you can better deal with the stress so you can live a happier life."

Peter nodded slowly. "Right. Um, so I guess I have to start telling you what happened at Taskmaster's?"

"Not yet. You're jumping ahead there. We only just met! How about some proper introductions? Let's get to know each other. I don't want to seem like another blank Shield agent to you."

"Oh, okay, that sounds like a good idea."

When Fury had asked Sam to work with Spider-Man for a few weeks, Sam had first respectfully declined. He didn't work with kids. His certifications were focused more on veterans. But Fury insisted that wouldn't be a problem. Now, Sam could already begin to see why.

Peter was very mature for his age, and he'd been through as much as any veteran if all the reports were true.

"Alright, so I'm Sam Wilson, as you already know. I grew up in Louisiana and joined the Air Forces. I like donuts and running, and I will happily combine the two when given the chance." This made Peter giggle. "I was in the Force for a good while until I lost one of my closest friends. Then my motivation to fight left, and so did I."

This made Peter frown. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It was tough," Sam agreed. "But that's where we have a bit in common. Because after Riley's death, I realized how difficult it was to return to civilian life, so I became a counselor to help others like me readjust to life after war. Now, I know that's not the same as being a superhero, but it's still helping others."

Peter nodded empathetically. "I get it, you have the ability to help others in your shoes, so you're doing what you can. I think that's awesome. I'm sure your friend would be proud."

Sam smiled softly. "I think so too. And I really enjoy working with people instead of fighting them."

"I can imagine. But . . . if you were in the Air Force, how did you end up working for Shield? They usually prefer lifelong agents."

Sam smirked. Usually he didn't boast, but Peter was going to love this. "Remember how I said I like to run? Well, one day I accidentally went on a run with Steve Rogers."

Peter's eyes blew wide. "You met Captain America?!"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So did you."

"Yeah, but that was, like, business. We've gone on a few missions together. But I've never just casually jogged with him! That's so cool!"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. He had asked Steve if namedropping him would help, but he hadn't believed Steve when he said Peter would freak out. "You were literally an Avenger. I should be the one in awe of you."

Peter shrugged and blushed. "I was only an Avenger for a few days. And Captain America is, like, the original Avenger."

"Please don't belittle achievements by comparing them to others, Pete."

"I just don't like to boast. At least, not all the time. It's a Spider-Man thing. Anyway, is there anything else interesting about your life? Did you meet any other celebrities or heroes?"

Sam quickly jotted down Peter's response for review later. "Well, sort of. Steve helped me get this job here at Shield, and I've worked with a lot more people since. I can't disclose any names though."

"That's really cool," Peter told him sincerely.

"Thanks. Now tell me a bit about yourself. What motivates you?"

"Oh, um . . ." Peter paused, gathering his thoughts. "Well, I guess it boils down to what you already know: the fact that with great power comes great responsibility. I have these powers, and I'm responsible for using them right."

Sam cocked his head. Hearing the phrase again was tickling something in his memory. "I feel like Steve mentioned you have that phrase . . ."

Peter perked up again. "Captain America remembered I told him that?! Wow! That's so amazing! Ben would be so proud!"

"And who's Ben?"

Peter sobered up as fast as whiplash. "Oh, my Uncle Ben. He's the one who told me that. Except I only started taking it seriously after it was too late."

Sam considered whether he should probe into his uncle's death. If anything was a source of trauma for Peter, that was certainly it. But that was an old wound, and Fury had asked him to stick to more current matters. Hopefully Peter's previous grief counselors had helped him with the loss of his uncle. "Of course, I'm sorry about your uncle. But if he came up with quotes like that, then he must've been a great man. Great enough to inspire Steve for sure." He smiled reassuringly. "Which reminds me. All this superhero responsibility is only one side of your life. You're a teenager with your whole life ahead of you. What motivates your daily life? Your work ethic at school? Your personal dreams?"

Peter's eyebrows rose. "Oh, um, wow, it's been a while since I thought about that. Not that my personal life suffers!" he hastened to add. "It's just that I've had a lot on my plate recently."

"I understand, take your time. There are no right or wrong answers to these questions. I'm just curious. I want to know you as both Peter Parker and Spider-Man."

Nodding, Peter looked away thoughtfully. Sam waited as promised.

"So . . . I guess my personal stuff is a little more complicated, now that I think about it," Peter began. "Because Uncle Ben helped me get into engineering. He was a mechanic, and he also fixed appliances for a bit of extra cash, so he knew a lot. And I would watch him and how happy he made people for fixing things for cheap, and I knew I wanted to engineer things too to be helpful. Then I became a huge fan of Tony Stark before he even became Iron Man, because his tech is just so cool, you know? And sure, the weapons he used to make weren't good for anyone, but it made his company so rich that he could go completely wild making all this new stuff for day-to-day use! There are so many patents that people don't realize are from Stark, and they've really revolutionized everything! Monorail improvements, better satellite communication, supercomputers . . . Did you know that he holds the original patent for the touchscreen? Not to mention—"

Chuckling, Sam raised a hand and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, as fascinating as that sounds, we're here to talk about you, not how Stark Industries revolutionized the world of technology."

Peter blushed. "Sorry. I got carried away."

"It's fine. It's wonderful to see how passionate you are about this. So I'm guessing you want to, what, make Parker Industries so you can make better things than weapons?"

"I don't know about a whole company. That's a lot of work, and I'm not so great at the business side of things. Although Harry has offered to help . . . But I'll be happy so long as I'm working for a company like that—like SI."

Sam wrote this down too because this was very important to Peter. "That's very impressive, Peter. I hear you're a great student, so you'll be more than prepared for any opportunities that come up."

Peter smiled bashfully. "I hope so."

"And if you ever get into making TVs, if you could hook me up with a nice home entertainment center . . ." Sam waggled his eyebrows.

"Unless VR and AR take over that market."

"Fair point. Okay then, now that we know a little about each other, I would like to set a couple of ground rules for this space. Sound good?"

"Aye aye, captain."

Sam held up a hand to begin counting. "Number one: know you have full patient confidentiality. What you say in this room stays right here. I will not tell anyone, not even your aunt or Director Fury, unless you give me direct consent."

"Oh," Peter frowned. "I thought those two were, like, the only two people you had to tell no matter what."

"Nope. If, for example, I were worried about you harming yourself, then I may warn them. But never do I have to tell them any specifics. These are your private thoughts and feelings we're talking about. I appreciate that you share them with me, and that's as far as they'll go."

"Okay. What other rules are there?"

"Rule number two is that you try to be as honest as you can with me. I know we'll eventually discuss things that will be hard for you, and it's okay if you need to take a break or explain it a little at a time. But what you do tell me must be the truth. You don't have to sugarcoat anything with me. I'm not here to judge you; I'm here to help you understand what you're going through to help you better deal with it. Fair?"

Interestingly, Peter bit his lip upon hearing this rule. "Fair."

"Number three is that you're free to feel however you want about me. My primary goal is always to help you feel better, but that's going to come with some tough questions and hard days. If you get annoyed or angry at me some days, that's perfectly fine. I will never tell you how to feel, and I will never be offended. Just always remember I'm here for you."

"Okay . . ."

"And number four is that we start each session with you telling me something positive about your week. Even if it's as small as finding a dollar on the ground, I want to hear it. Because if we only talk about your dark days, everything will start to look dark. And if you ever feel distressed by anything else, I would like to remind you of the good things in your life."

Peter made a face. "Um, that one might be hard for me. I have a lot of bad luck . . ."

That . . . that was not a good start. "I'm sure we can find something. I'll help you begin: you're back home after a kidnapping. You survived. That's something good."

"True . . ."

"Has anything else nice happened since you've been home?"

"Well . . . MJ, my friend, she—um . . ." Peter's blush returned. "She knows about my powers now, and we talked about it the other night, about how I'm part spider and stuff, and she still likes me. In fact, maybe she like likes me . . ."

. . . Peter's wording was really starting to worry Sam, and this was just their first session. "Do you like her back?"

"Maybe . . ."

"Come on, be honest. Remember rule number two."

"Well . . ." Peter swallowed, wringing his hands a bit. "Yeah, I do like her."

"Young love is a beautiful thing, Pete. Wanna tell me more about this MJ?"

Peter looked like he might avoid the subject, but then he began rambling avidly. "MJ's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, even counting the superheroes. She's been working to become an investigative journalist, and she writes for the school paper all the time. And then she also wrote a play about Spider-Man! About me! Except she didn't know he was me at the time, but now she does know and she's so excited and I'm so excited and she's just the best and—uh—" He cleared his throat and calmed slightly. "Sorry, I guess I'm still riding high on the idea that she might like me back."

"No need to apologize. I'm so happy to hear all of that! MJ sounds like an incredible person. You're a lucky guy to have someone like her in your life."

That made Peter smile warmly. "Yeah, I do have a lot of great women in my life. Ava literally has the strength and courage of a tiger. And my aunt's sort of like that too. Very strong willed and confident, always there when you need her."

"That's awesome. Have you been able to spend time with your aunt since your return?"

"Mhm! We even cooked together last night. She showed me how to make my favorite wheat cakes from scratch. It was . . . It was nice." Peter's smile faltered at the last sentence, appearing almost as a grimace, almost causing Sam to raise an eyebrow. Another thing to file in his notebook.

"Cool," Sam said aloud, keeping the positive conversation going. The tough questions would have to wait a bit longer. "And I hear you get along great with your team?"

"Oh yeah, we're like peas in a pod at this point. They've been coming over to play games the past couple of nights."

Sam wrote these things down too. Everyone needed a support system, especially heroes, and it seemed like Peter already had people he could depend on. "So MJ, your aunt, and your team. These are all people who care about you. People you can count on to always have your back?"

"Y—yeah. All of them," Peter replied with just a bit of hesitation. He was looking resolutely at some of the items on Sam's desk.

Hm, alright, so at least one person didn't fit the bill, and there was already a clue as to who. "You didn't sound too sure there. Is there something you would like to share?"

Peter didn't answer right away. He folded his arms. "I . . . um . . . pass? Like, can we get back to that later? We're supposed to talk about what happened at Taskmaster's, right? About what I did."

Sam hid his frown. "There's no set list of what we need to cover, but if that's what you want to talk about first, I understand. It's probably still very vivid for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Very." The excited, animated qualities of his tone were gone, replaced by flat monotone. Not a good sign.

"Do you feel ready to tell me what happened?"

"Yes, of course, I have to. I have to tell you about—when I—You know—when I—hunted," Peter seemed to force the word out, grimacing as it passed his lips.

Sam wanted to grimace too. It hurt to see such a young kid so pained. But the tough questions had to begin now, and the pain would only become more apparent. "As much as I would love to let you decide what to discuss first, there is one thing I need some clarification on so I can better understand those situations."

"Like what?"

"The effect that Tandy's powers had on you. I've read a report on how her powers worked, but they don't have any details from your point of view."

"Oh, yeah, that's sort of complicated." Peter scratched the back of his neck.

"Please explain as best you can."

"Well . . . Tandy's magic kind of forced me to feel calm. Mostly just calm. It didn't force other emotions. I didn't have to feel happy about anything, but I couldn't worry or be angry or feel sad. So, I guess without those negative emotions, it was . . . easier to feel happy about things that would otherwise upset me." Peter stopped making eye contact.

"Could you give me an example?"

"Um . . ." Peter was quiet for a moment as he thought. His cheeks began reddening as time passed. "It's going to make me sound insane," he complained.

"I'm not going to judge you. I just would like to know so we can account for how your emotions were influenced as we discuss everything else that happened. It seems important to establish what you were actively feeling in the moment as well as what you would have felt without her influence."

"I know. Then I guess a good example would be like when we had dinner there. The first night, Tandy hadn't done anything to me yet, so I was only pretending to be okay around them. But inside I was freaking out and worrying that my cover would be blown any second. My spider sense rang constantly that first night. Then, the next day, after everything happened, I couldn't worry at dinner. Whenever I started to think about how things could go wrong, the thought just, like, disappeared. There was no fear and no spider sense, so all that was left was . . . well, to enjoy the food and laugh at their jokes and stuff." Peter's hand returned to self-consciously scratching the back of his neck.

Sam made a curious sound as he wrote all that down. He hadn't considered how the boy's powers might make his experiences even more unique and complicated. He needed more info. "Your emotions and spider sense were affected? May I ask how your spider sense works?"

"Oh, um, it's like a danger sense. I have little hairs all over my body that sense movements in the air or whatever I'm touching. And when something is coming at me, I get this tingly feeling at the back of my neck which lets me know whether I should dodge it or catch it or just be cautious." Peter paused thoughtfully. "Although I suppose it expands beyond that now that I've gotten to know it better. Because before Tandy did her magic on me at Taskmaster's place, it was ringing almost constantly even though I wasn't being attacked. And—and it's sort of done the same whenever I'm around people or places I don't . . . trust, or whatever."

"So sort of an extended flight-or-fight response?"

"Yeah, in a sense." Peter blinked and then giggled. "Hehe, 'sense', get it?"

Sam grinned at the joke, but quickly sobered up. "I have to ask then: Is your spider sense ringing now?"

Peter looked surprised by the question, and also by the answer. "I'm so sorry, but if I have to be honest, then yeah, it's kind of a soft tingle right now. I promise I'm not scared of you though!" Once more, his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

"I understand if your spider sense is tingling. I won't take it personally. Maybe you're uneasy about all these probing questions, but it is my job to continue asking these questions. Is there anything I can do to help you feel calmer?"

"I . . . I don't think so. Nothing but stuff like Tandy's powers has ever made my spider sense stop. It's fine anyway. I'm used to it by now."

Sam nodded towards the hand still at Peter's neck. "You said you feel the tingle at the back of your neck. Does rubbing the area soothe you?"

Peter removed the hand and shook his head. "No, that's just something I do when I'm . . . nervous . . ." He squinted suspiciously at his hand.

"Have you always done it when nervous?"

"I'm pretty sure I have . . ." Peter didn't finish the thought, though his face paled slightly.

Sam looked at his notes so far. "Well, I would like to propose a theory. I don't have nearly as much knowledge of your powers as you or Dr. Connors, but if this spider sense is involved in all of that, then maybe it can be related to your anxiety too?"

Peter let out a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, I've wondered that a few times recently."

"Oh? And what do you think?"

Another sigh. "It probably is. I mean, usually it's way more reliable than plain old anxiety. Especially when it comes to physical attacks, it's almost perfect. The only things it can get mixed up with are magical attacks and optical illusions."

"What about with sensing the overall dangers of your surroundings?"

Peter looked down. "I . . . I don't know. Because Taskmaster's place was kind of dangerous. But nothing was happening that should've set off my spider sense as strongly as it did. It was giving me a headache by nightfall."

"You don't think being trapped with a known enemy is worth some anxiety?"

That got Peter to look at him again. "Of course I do! Taskmaster was nearby at all times, and I don't mind being alert in a situation like that."

"Then maybe that isn't the best example to question if it can work like anxiety. What about today? Is any anxiety regarding this session causing the tingle?"

"Yeah, but I think it's because—well, please don't take this the wrong way, but you remind me of Taskmaster. He acted like he cared about me and how I felt. He acted like a counselor."

Sam nodded. "That makes sense. Textbook manipulator. A lot of people can pretend like they care about you, but you can't forget that there are so many others who truly do care. Director Fury vouched for me, so I hope that helps you feel safe with me."

"It does. You seem way more genuine than Taskmaster. Maybe my spider sense is just worrying about the small similarities." His gaze strayed again to the desk. "You have way better office décor at least."

"Thank you. If there's anything else I can do to help you feel safe here, please let me know. But for now, I would recommend being mindful of when and why your spider sense goes off. Have you tried any mindfulness practices?"

A nod. "Yeah, my friend Danny taught me a lot. I'll pay attention if it happens again. Also . . . Thanks?" he said awkwardly. "Thanks for asking if my spider sense was ringing. No one's really asked me before. Unless we're on, like, a mission or something."

Okay, Sam was going to have some words with Fury, because nowhere in Spider-Man's file did it explain his spider sense like this. And why did no one ever ask the kid if he was feeling like he was in danger?! He could literally sense it for goodness' sake! "Of course you're welcome, Pete. And thank you for explaining all that to me. Now that I understand Tandy's influence and your spider sense, we can begin discussing anything else you want."

"Oh, then . . . since we're on the topic . . . I think I know what we should talk about next."

"I'm ready when you are."

This time when Peter reached up to his neck again, he consciously brought his hand back down to his lap. Sam waited to jot that down with whatever Peter said next. His patients usually felt more open with him when he wasn't writing constantly.

"Well, it's just that I haven't felt as relieved to be home as I should be, because a lot of things in my daily life remind me of being at Taskmaster's now. Like, we ate breakfast and dinner together as if we were a team, and we played games like we were friends, and they tried to help me with my spidery stuff like they knew me. It felt like I was in the Twilight Zone or something!" Peter's voice had risen in volume and spiked in anger. "Everything was wrong, but they were trying to pretend it was right! And once Tandy started using her powers on me, I could barely even tell it was wrong! It felt . . . okay." He sniffled, eyes glassy now, but not tearing up just yet.

Sam wrote that down. "What do you mean by 'okay'?"

"I mean . . . um . . . You know how I said that Tandy couldn't force anything but calm? Well, while I was calm they would do nice stuff for me, and instead of me having to fake thanking them, I was just . . . genuinely thankful." Peter shivered slightly. Then suddenly he turned defensive. "I didn't want to be thankful! But I was because there was nothing else. You have to understand there was nothing else. Without fear and anger it was either feel nothing or feel . . . okay."

"I understand," Sam confirmed because Peter sounded almost desperate. "You were under an influence, so you can't take full responsibility for anything you thought or did at the time."

Peter shook his head. "No, it can still be my fault."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I didn't need to feel happy or anything."

"But you said it yourself. It was either feel nothing or feel something positive. People aren't robots, and you strike me as an empathetic kid. If Tandy was blocking your anxiety, I'm not surprised it allowed your natural brightness to shine through."

Peter had a look in his eyes like he was trying to decide if he should believe Sam or not. "But what does it say about me that I even could be happy with them? Isn't that—isn't it like saying that if I ever got over my anxiety then I would join the bad guys?"

Ah, there was the source of the self-blaming. "Were they acting like bad guys at the time?"

"Well . . . sometimes. Kind of. But I guess mostly not really." Peter looked at his palms. "Tandy really was very nice to me. And Adrien did his best to make me feel comfortable."

"It sounds like they showed you basic human kindness. There's nothing wrong with appreciating that. And remember that those kids have been lied to by Taskmaster too. Didn't they believe that they were the good guys in Taskmaster's fight against Shield?"

"That's true, they had no idea about his real motives. They just thought that he was trying to protect them, and he encouraged them to protect each other."

Sam nodded. "You were in a very complicated situation. There's no clear-cut line of good versus evil. You were all kidnap victims in a sense, even if some of the others had been tricked into joining willingly. It's not uncommon to become close to those in a similar situation."

Peter didn't reply right away, considering this new point of view. "But . . . what if I hadn't been able to escape? What if I was stuck and Tandy kept me calm and I kept trusting them until they forced me to fight against Shield too?"

"We don't know what would have happened if you had been held any longer. Fury says you're as stubborn as they come, so there's always the chance that you would've fought any indoctrination. But we can't predict a future that didn't happen, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

"Yeah, but it's still important to know, just in case."

Sam tilted his head. "You're judging yourself rather harshly for something that was very out of your control.

"Except I was still in control!" Peter rebutted loudly. "I was still in charge of my own actions and look what I did! Heck, Tandy wasn't even messing with me when I hurt Amadeus!"

"You were rather scared and disoriented at the time," Sam reminded him. "And I believe you said your spider sense was ringing constantly then?"

Peter huffed out a breath. "Yes, it was."

"Then you were also sensing danger. It's not uncommon to act defensively in such a position, especially for trained individuals."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Peter was getting louder. "That's a whole other problem! My spider sense was going off and it was the only thing I was paying attention to when I woke up! And it's what told me to bite him!" His voice cracked there but he went on. "That means I wasn't fully in control of myself! It means I chose violence when I didn't even understand what was going on! It means that it could've been so much worse because I could've chosen to use ven—I—I could've killed him! Amadeus could've died just because I was relying on my spider sense!"

The dam finally broke and he covered his face in his hands as he cried.

Sam grabbed a box of tissues from his desk and offered them. "Let it all out. Take your time. We can continue when you're ready."

Peter nodded silently as he took a tissue. He was very silent, in fact. Sam had witnessed many loud criers, but Peter was carefully controlling his breath with every sob, letting each one out so slowly that it only sounded like a pained sigh.

That made a lot of sense considering that the boy had hidden his vigilantism from his aunt for a considerable amount of time, but it didn't make Sam feel better.

With a few forcefully slow breaths, Peter managed to speak a bit more. "I could've used my venom," he repeated. "I thought about it—I have to think about it—and I did."

Sam had to admit he wasn't entirely sure where to begin to unravel this, but that was as good a point as any. "I understand that you considered it, but I also know that you ended up choosing not to use your venom. Sometimes our minds go to strange and scary places, especially when we're stressed. It might be difficult and worrisome, but at the end of the day you choose what to do."

"B—but how can I choose what to do when I—I can't think h—human?!" Peter sobbed, blowing his nose.

"What do you mean by 'can't think human'? Is this related to relying on your spider sense?"

Peter gasped, halting his sobs in a hiccup. He looked up at Sam like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Would you mind elaborating?" Sam asked again when Peter remained silent.

"I didn't mean to say that!"

"And that's okay. You promised to be honest in this space. Of course you can still choose not to tell me, but it seems like this is something that's weighing heavily on your mind."

Peter sniffled. "Yeah, I guess it is, it's just . . ." He shrugged helplessly.

Sam gave a small understanding smile. "Are you afraid of explaining this to someone else?"

"Apparently." He wiped some more tears and crossed his arms.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"My team."

Hm. Just the team? "It makes you feel self-conscious about your abilities?"

Peter nodded slowly, making the tear streaks across his cheeks glisten. "I . . . Most of the time I can't let people know that I'm different. Secret identity and all that. But even with people who really know me . . . it's hard. Because sometimes it makes me feel . . . less human." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Now they were getting somewhere. "Is that why you came here with your contacts and retainer on? They help you feel more human?"

"Oh." Peter's hand went to his mouth. "Well, at first I forgot to take them off. I had to wear them to walk to school so I could get a ride up here to the Helicarrier. Then I just figured it would be . . . easier to keep them on. Plus I didn't know if you knew."

"I promised you could be honest in this space for a reason. Director Fury has made sure I have all the information necessary to give you the best care."

"Yeah, that makes sense. It would've been weird if you didn't know, or if I had to tell you everything from scratch." Peter shivered. "There are some things I would rather not re-explain."

"That's perfectly understandable. Does having your contacts and retainer on make you more comfortable?"

"Yes. No? Both, sort of."

"I'm a little confused here."

"Well, it depends on which sort of comfort you mean. Physically? No. They start to bother me after a while. But mentally, or whatever? Yeah. It helps me feel better when I can look in a mirror and see my usual self, not some weird new reflection."

That wasn't something Sam dealt with often in his line of work, but it did bear a certain similarity to trauma faced by some veterans. Scars and amputations were constant physical reminders of their time at war. "I see. Well, there are no mirrors in this office, so if you would like to take off the contacts or retainers, please feel free, especially if they are causing any discomfort."

Peter didn't look convinced. "Well . . . if you're sure . . ."

Sam held up a hand. "Wait. I said I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Would removing them make you more or less comfortable?"

Peter considered the question. "You're right, there's no mirrors around, so there's no point in me being vain right now. Besides," he chuckled softly with a sniffle. "I think I dislodged one of the contacts when I cried." He began preparing to remove the items.

"If they felt painful after crying, why didn't you remove them then?"

That gave Peter pause. "I don't know . . ." he said semi-nonchalantly. His voice was still too hoarse from crying to sound fully casual.

"I understand you have to wear them in public, but what about at home?"

Peter became extra focused on removing the lenses. "Not usually. Unless we have company over."

"How do you feel at home when you don't wear them?"

His voice became a little harder as he snapped the contacts case shut. "Like I said, mirrors aren't great usually."

"Is there anything in particular about your reflection that bothers you?" Sam continued to probe, knowing he was annoying the boy, but he needed answers. Disliking your reflection was an easy path to self-hatred.

Instead of answering, Peter removed the retainer, giving Sam his first look at his fangs. They were very noticeably long when extended. Certainly dangerous looking if bared. Sam could guess why Peter didn't like to see them, especially after he used them to hurt people twice. But once retracted, they were barely different from any of his other teeth.

As Sam examined Peter's fangs, he was aware that Peter was watching him right back, almost glaring a bit, waiting to see a reaction. Sam looked him straight in the eyes, showing no fear or disgust.

"As you might imagine," Peter finally replied, voice still hard and clipped. "I don't like to be reminded of how I look like a monster from a horror movie. Especially in the dark. I literally scared myself the first night I saw my eyes." His gaze was challenging, but also hurt.

"Why do you liken your image to a horror movie monster?"

"Because what else has fangs and glowing green eyes? And have you ever seen stuff with demon possession or like the Grudge? I can move and contort just like that no problem."

"Perhaps there is a resemblance, but that's only a coincidence. You don't have to look at it that way."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Saying the neutral thing that I just look like I'm part spider doesn't help. People are scared of spiders anyway. Arachnophobia is literally a horror movie too."

Sam considered the best approach to this. "It sounds like you're basing your perceptions on how you expect other people to react. If you didn't need to care about your image for your secret identity, how would you feel about yourself?"

Finally, Peter didn't have an immediate self-deprecating comeback. Nor did he have an immediate opinion of himself. Sam waited to see which Peter would come up with first once he had time to think.

"Well—what do you think of it?" Peter threw back at him.

Clever.

"I think that one of the most important things about how a person looks is how they view themselves. We live in a world where Mutants, aliens, and literal gods exist. The world has seen a lot in the past decade or so. Aside from keeping your identity a secret, why does it matter to you if you have green eyes and fangs?"

"Because unlike Mutants, aliens, and gods, I wasn't born this way." Peter looked Sam in the eyes very resolutely, glaring slightly. In the soft light of the office, his irises and pupils didn't reflect much, but enough to be visibly different from before.

This was a breakthrough, albeit one that Sam thought he should have anticipated. All the clues were already in Peter's files. "All of this has felt like it's been out of your control from the start, hasn't it?"

"It has been out of my control. Since forever. I call it the Parker Luck." Peter took a small breath, trying to tone down his agitation. "I told you I have bad luck."

It was telling that Peter had dubbed his series of unfortunate events as 'Parker Luck' instead of calling it Murphy's Law or some other known phrase. It showed how strongly he associated with his misfortunes. "You may have been forced through multiple unfortunate events, but you've done an incredible job of remaining positive despite them. I would like you to acknowledge how far you've come."

That succeeded in easing Peter. He looked away bashfully. "I guess I've tried my best to stay strong and stuff. But that doesn't—I don't—I still hate it." The bashfulness was replaced with him glaring at his wrists.

"Do you just hate the circumstances? Or has some of that hatred bled over towards yourself?"

Peter crossed his arms. "I've done some horrible things. Maybe I deserve a bit of hate."

"That's not true. You know that. No one deserves to be hated."

"I know. It's just . . . it feels like a no-win situation."

"How so?"

"Because when I'm not scared of them, I'm getting used to the changes, and that bothers me too."

"Why?"

"Because then my definition of normal changes." Peter rested one elbow on the arm of his chair and held his head up on that hand. He spoke tiredly, frustratedly, as if he'd explained this before. "And I know that 'normal' has been impossible for me for ages now, but at least I still understood what was normal, and I wanted what was normal. But now . . ."

"Now what?"

"Now . . ." Peter sighed, furrowing his brow. "Now, what I want isn't normal. Now I have to think about what's normal. This is why I'm so upset about biting Amadeus. It doesn't matter that he wasn't seriously hurt. I still did something that was very wrong, but it felt very normal in the moment." Tears reformed in his eyes, angry tears. "And even after it happened, before Tandy calmed me down, I was so confused. Because it made sense to me either way."

"What do you mean by 'either way'?"

"The regular human way versus spider thought stuff." Peter grabbed another tissue to wipe at the new tears. "I could see that—duh—it was wrong. But I could also just—I—He broke my web and I—" He cut off with a frustrated sound, burying his face in his hands.

This was a realm Sam felt wholly unequipped for. "Are you saying that you . . . Feel the way a spider might feel about certain things?"

Peter 's shoulders hunched. "Only sometimes!"

"Do these spider thoughts occur simultaneously with your own or—?"

"I don't have a weird spider split personality!" Peter clarified immediately, uncovering his face. This was apparently important for him to impart. "They're my thoughts, they're just . . . also kind of spidery."

"I see. I would like to better understand this. Would you mind walking me through one of these 'spidery' thought processes?"

"Um . . ." Peter's head was already shaking in dissent. "I don't—It's—Uh—" One of his hands strayed to his neck where he gripped the skin hard. His breathing was picking up pace and a deep sort of fear had entered his eyes.

Sam wanted to pat Peter's shoulder reassuringly, but wasn't sure if that would trigger his spider sense even more. "I can see this is very hard for you to tell me. As much as I would like to understand more, we can also pause or stop here."

Peter shook his head harder. "We still need to talk about the other thing. Amadeus. The chicken."

"We're here to discuss what you need to, what you want to, what you can. There are no expectations in this space."

"There are always expectations," Peter replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam's brow furrowed deeply. "Is that how you feel? That people always expect certain things from you?"

The fear was retreating. He covered his face again, blocking the view of his reddening eyes, which contrasted with the glowing green. "Wait, that sounds weird and emo."

"That's okay. No judgements here. Will you answer the question?"

He peeked single eye to study Sam's face for a moment before its gaze began darting around. Then it shut tight. "Well—yeah—I face expectations all the time. But when you have a secret identity, that's normal."

"Then that's one normal thing about your life."

The single eye blinked, and then Peter was giggling. He uncovered his face. "That's true."

Sam smiled warmly, glad that Peter's affinity for humor gave him a lifeboat in times of crisis. That had been the only assessment he allowed himself to make before meeting Spider-Man in person, because literally everyone agreed that humor helped the boy cope. "Do want to continue explaining?" Then he added, "You don't have to. It's simply an option."

Peter crushed the used tissues in his palm. His breathing was a lot steadier now after the sobs. "I . . . should tell you about that one moment at least, so you can help me with it next time I come. It might sort of answer your question too."

"if you're willing, I'm all ears."

"When I bit Amadeus . . ." The words came out slow, but much calmer. "I was in the most spidery state of mind I've ever been in. Without any weird drugs in my system, I mean. I don't know exactly how to describe it other than I clearly wasn't thinking in a typical human way. And . . . I'm afraid." He crossed his arms tight again. His anger was gone now, replaced with shame and guilt. "I've hurt people by accident, and because of mind control and things like Kraven's poison, but I never—I rarely used to do it on purpose."

This next question was going to restart the waterworks again. Sam knew it. "Rarely? Are you referring to some of the other instance listed in your file?" He would have asked for the details from Peter himself, but that seemed like too much to ask for today.

"Yes." The answer was so short, so simple, and yet it carried so much pain.

"Do you feel like what happened with Amadeus was similar or different than with Kraven?"

"Different." Peter's voice was wavering again as he fought back tears. "Because it was about something so stupid. It wasn't revenge or a fight for my life. It was mostly about the web. . . and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop feeling upset about that web, or any of my webs," Peter concluded, rubbing the spot on his wrist again. "Well, maybe not all of my webs. Not the ones I use to catch bad guys on patrol. But my webs that I make for personal use."

Sam looked up as he finished writing his notes on the topic. "So you often make webs for home use?"

Peter appeared to steel himself. "I didn't use to, but ever since I came back from Taskmaster's I've been making one every night so I can sleep."

"How does it help?"

"It helps me make sure that Taskmaster isn't sneaking into my room in the middle of the night. It's ridiculous and redundant considering all the safeguards Fury installed, but after a few bad nightmares and restless nights . . . it helps."

"Your sleep has improved since starting the practice?"

"Yeah, but this is one of the things I was hoping you could help me with. Maybe you could help me figure out how to sleep better on my own so I can stop making webs in my room."

Sam tilted his head, confused. "It sounds like the webs have already successfully eased your anxiety. Why are you interested in alternate methods that may be less effective?"

And the glare was back. Interesting. "Because I shouldn't be making webs! What if I get so protective of them and end up biting someone again? No matter how bad I wanted one in my room, I promised myself like a month ago that I wouldn't give in to those instincts! Besides, my aunt likes to keep the house clean, and you have no idea how weird and time-consuming it is to have to recycle my silk every morning!"

Somehow, those were pretty much the reasons Sam expected now that he was getting to know Peter better. "Let's unpack some of those reasons, shall we? First one: Do you really feel like you might harm friends or family if they came close to your web? Amadeus was essentially a stranger, and you admit you weren't entirely aware of the situation at the time."

"I don't know, but I really don't want to find out the hard way." Peter's voice cracked in the middle, but the words were still absolutely certain.

"Understandable. Second then: when exactly did you begin wanting a web in your room and why?"

"I guess around the time that my spinnerets grew in. And at the time, I don't think I really had a reason other than how comfy web hammocks are. Unless instincts count as a reason."

Sam wanted to address how quick Peter was to discount his instincts as reasons, but they didn't have time today. "Okay. Third: Have you asked your aunt if you can have a web in your room? Or if she really does want it cleaned away every day?"

Peter stopped eye contact again, which was very telling now. "I haven't exactly asked her, but the last time I had webs in my room, when I was practicing and stuff . . . she made sure to clean them away as soon as possible. It's just something that I know she wants."

Mhm. That required further inquiry, but not so close to the end of a session. "And lastly: what exactly do you mean by 'recycling'?"

"Oh, that's just the healthiest way for me to get rid of them." Peter made a disgusted face. "I have to eat the silk I used, or else I have to eat way more food than usual to replenish my spinnerets. It's just weird spider biology."

"Hm, so is it beneficial to your health to recycle the silk every single day? Or would it be easier to leave a web up for several days and—"

"I'm not interested in the logistics, Dr. Wilson," Peter cut him off for the second time. "I just need to—like—wean myself off or something. Isn't there some other practice I could start? Like meditations or melatonin or anything really?"

Sam tilted his hand in a so-so gesture. "There are other methods, yes. But typically we look for the easiest, most natural, and most effective solution. You could perhaps try meditating or journaling and see if it calms your spider sense, but medications such as melatonin aren't recommended for enhanced individuals due to unclear dosages." He set his notepad aside and showed Peter his full attention. "Tell you what: let's end here with a few pieces of 'homework'. You can try meditating or journaling sometime this week, see how either one compares to the benefits of your webs, and then next week we can discuss this more. I would like to get to know your 'spider mood' more next time if you're willing to tell me."

"Okay, I guess that's fair . . ." Peter had the face of someone who did not think this was fair at all.

"And don't forget to keep track of what or who triggers the anxiety aspects of your spider sense."

"Right." Peter didn't look happy about that either. "Um, I'm sorry for getting angry earlier."

"Hey, it's alright. Remember rule three: you're free to feel anything here. It's a certified safe space."

Peter nodded, but didn't look any less sorry.

Sam stood, and Peter followed. They said their goodbyes. Peter left. The door closed. And Sam collapsed back into his chair.

He really had his work cut out with this one.

Peter arrived back at home without incident. Not that he expected an incident. He generally tried not to jinx himself. But after at least a dozen instances of strange villain attacks interrupting his trek home, it wasn't entirely impossible. He was still upset about those times he was supposed to get groceries or even the anniversary cake, only to have everything smashed no matter how hard he tried to contain the battle.

This time he wasn't expected to bring anything back. He was just expected to . . .

Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to get out of these counseling sessions. Sure, getting rid of his unease and lingering guilt and whatever would be good, but those things just happened naturally in time in his experience. Maybe counseling was supposed to speed up the process, but this session hadn't helped him feel better at all. Actually, he felt more upset now than he had this morning.

This morning, he had been fine, which was, sadly, sort of unusual for him. The team had come over for games last night and all had been well. Except for the web he had to sleep in after several restless hours, but other than that, things were going okay and he had been curious about how Dr. Wilson could help him.

Now Peter was annoyed. Because instead of listening to his worries and understanding how awful they all were, Dr. Wilson questioned every little thing and made Peter doubt it all. And the last thing Peter wanted right now was to doubt himself further. He already barely knew how to handle his life. How was he supposed to feel more sure of himself at this rate?

And that was after Peter spilled more truth than he had meant to on the first session. He had planned to stick to Amadeus and only Amadeus, but no, he ended up rambling and explaining all about his spider sense and instincts and weird spidery stuff. Which . . . it was almost nerve wracking to admit all that to someone new, especially someone he only just met. Part of him was afraid that Dr. Wilson was either going to declare him mentally unsound or willing to use deadly violence in the field, and Peter wasn't sure which was worse. But so far Dr. Wilson didn't seem likely to say anything like that. In fact, he seemed oddly supportive of Peter's instincts? Peter had been brave enough to ask for help with his current web dependence, and what did he get in response? The suggestion that maybe webs were his best solution?! Did Dr. Wilson think he wanted to act spidery?!

(Peter ignored the brief moment of hope he had felt after Dr. Wilson said that. He could sometimes recognize when he was acting too weird.)

There was also the new nervous spidery habit he had to watch out for: rubbing his neck to assuage his spider sense. It made so much sense in hindsight. Peter was frankly upset with himself for not realizing sooner. He always rubbed his neck after a battle or while casing a dangerous area. It didn't make the tingle go away, but it offered a brief relief. He must've done it at school plenty of times too. How many times had he done it simply because of Flash?

And on top of all of that, there were those 'assignments'. A half-hearted attempt to help him stop sleeping on webs, and a mindfulness practice to notice what set off the more anxiety-like aspects of his spider sense. Considering how Aunt May's presence had activated his spider sense just the other night . . .

Peter had never been more tempted to leave an assignment uncompleted.

He didn't want to face the truth. Worse, he didn't want to reveal it to someone as probing as Dr. Wilson.

But he had promised to be honest, and he had promised his aunt he would complete the sessions . . .

Entering the house, Peter kept his breathing steady, trying to hold onto the small bit of calm he'd managed to regain during the walk back (a small bit of calm he had for himself, without any outside influences, thank you very much). "May, I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen, sweetie!"

Of course she was in the kitchen again. Why not?

Peter stepped through the doorway, spotting his aunt leaning over the sink. Already he could smell the faint lingering odor of her lemon-scented cleaning solution.

He glanced at the now spotless countertop. The one that hadn't been dirtied by cooking. The one they hadn't even been using while May taught him how to make wheat cakes. The one where he had climbed with his sticky hands and socked feet so he could reach the new bag of flour in the upper cupboard.

He hadn't meant to do that! He hadn't meant to be gross and weird! In the past, he had only used chairs or the stepstool to reach that high!

And yet last night he climbed like a spider without thinking.

May had been so upset that he put his feet on a cooking surface. She'd scolded him and demanded he get down immediately. He didn't even grab the flour in the end. He just jumped down and apologized and used the strong scent of the cleaning liquid as an excuse for his watery eyes.

Why had he done that? Why had he thought it was okay? Why had May's reprimanding made his spider sense flare despite her not even raising her voice?

Oh great, he was already completing the 'assignment'. Curse his responsible brain!

"How did your first session go?" May asked as she dried her hands on her apron. The ingredients for dinner were laid out on the counter nearby.

Peter wanted to reply that he hated it, but he felt like that might earn him more sessions. "I think it went okay."

"Did it help?"

"I don't know, it's too early to tell. We spent some time on introductions and ground rules and stuff."

"What else did you talk about?"

For a moment, Peter was afraid he would have to admit to all the horrible things he'd told Dr. Wilson, but then he remembered the confidentiality he'd been promised. Dr. Wilson would never reveal the truth to May, so Peter didn't have to tell her either.

"Just stuff that's been bothering me lately," he answered. "Nothing major," he added for good measure.

"Hopefully by the end of the month you'll see more progress," May reassured him, patting the back of her hand against his cheek. "I just want you to be happy again."

He very carefully wrapped his fingers around her wrist, where her skin was still a bit cool from the water. He forced a smile. "I am happy, May," he said, even as his spider sense softly reminded him that he was afraid too.

Things were quiet at the dinner table now. Taskmaster didn't need any of his training to tell that he had lost a large amount of trust from his soldiers the moment he lost nearly half of his team. He couldn't even blame them. Too many things had gone wrong at once.

But this wasn't a complete failure just yet. Tandy, Ty, and Adrien were still more willing to stick by him than brave the world alone. They had all been taken advantage of before, and Felicia's betrayal was against them too. They would stick by Taskmaster just a bit longer.

The plan simply needed to change. It would occur much sooner. They would need a few more powerful weapons to make up for their small numbers. The infiltration would need to be done much quieter and with much more finesse. And another jailbreak would be added.

Parker may have escaped, but he had given Taskmaster an idea, and it would require rekindling a partnership that hadn't exactly ended on good terms. But he had a feeling that Kraven would be more than happy to work together on this new project.

Author's rant and notes:

There is a curse upon PhD students where anytime one must write a paper, they are distracted by the all-consuming desire to do literally anything else. In this case, I finally sat down and revised the first 5 chapters of Hide Away I wrote back in June instead of writing my research proposal. I still finished that thing in time, but seriously, academic writing is sooooo boring! I need creativity! And also academia sucks! But that's a whole thing. Anyway, it took so many revisions to make this chapter just right. I mark all versions in alphabetical order, and this is the very first time I made it down to g. My last record was e. But I'll take 6 revisions of this over academic revisions any day!

There are still rough parts and other sections I would like to flesh out, but I do have the beginnings of a buffer as I begin posting again. Chapters in this series tend to be massive (5 - 10k), so I will likely return to the monthly posting schedule that worked best at the end of Stow Away.

I would like to thank everyone who commented on Stow Away. I appreciated every single one and reading them kept me motivated to write this. And it's still getting some comments and new readers to this day! I'm so happy that this tale has sparked so much happiness and contemplation!

Welcome, and welcome back to Shy Away! I'll see you again with chapter 2 in the new year!