IKTTIMH (TMHBM) [Chapter 6]
I know the truth in my heart (Though my head betrays me)
Puzzle
Previous Chapter
Word Count: 10,515
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The lab was quiet. Unusually so.
Normally, there'd be people around, dropping by, pointing towards things, trying to understand. Numbers and equations flew around screens, measurements and materials finding their place in between them.
The projects that were cooked up in the vast, open lab were far too complex for those who surrounded the geniuses that worked within its walls.
Silence roamed in the room, the late hour of the night, or small hours of the morning, rendering the place quiet. Only until a bracelet started vibrating, announcing an impending call did the silence cease.
The wearer was too entrenched in their work to notice. Exhaustion usually makes people forgetful and distracted. It wasn't their fault that they hadn't realized their wrist was buzzing, and by then it had stopped.
Then it started again.
And again.
And again.
Someone was calling. Incessantly.
The quiet was broken time and time again. The darkness, however, was omnipresent. A sky painted black, illuminated only by stars and a moon. Asteroids flying across the open field. The same sky that stretched across the globe.
It wasn't until the doors to the lab opened, light from the hallways flooding through the dark, sulky room that the tinkerer pulled themselves away from their schematics.
Two guards pushed the doors open, allowing another four people to storm into the private lab.
"Is it not 3:27 in the morning? Why are there people in-"
"Shuri," called T'Challa's voice.
"We are needed in America."
4 days had passed since Peter remembered Thor.
Since Harley's forgotten birthday.
Nothing much had transpired during those days. A bored, restless, sleepless Peter stayed either in his room or on the common floor's couch for the duration.
Peter had initially been terrified that FRIDAY would tattle on him about the whole not-sleeping thing, but everything had been quiet when he was in the Medbay, being watched 'round the clock. If he could get away with it then, he could get away with it now.
He liked talking with Thor to pass the time. Everything seemed easy when he did. Things were simple, things were pleasant. Bruce didn't give the same impression. Although he showed great compassion and care, Peter couldn't shake the memory, the feeling of complete panic when he'd first recognized the man. Back when he had not a single clue as to who he was.
Peter had wanted to talk with Harley during those days. The boy seemed to have vanished. They saw each other at dinner, sometimes, when the entire team was gathered. If not for those fleeting moments, Peter would've thought Harley had dropped off the face of the Earth.
It hadn't been an easy time for him. The 17th, especially.
Harley had wound up in the lab after lunch. Tony didn't spend much of his time here, lately, so he knew he could get some quiet. He would've rather a place that didn't hold so many memories of him and Peter, Before, but those were few and far between in the Compound.
The lab had been quiet. Harley could hear birds chirping outside the windows, soft light streaming in through the glass. It seemed painfully normal as if he was just spending an afternoon about to tinker.
It didn't feel like he was 18. It didn't feel like nobody had remembered his birthday. It didn't feel like Peter had slipped right through his fingers.
And yet, all those statements were true.
Harley dragged his feet around the lab dejectedly, a lackadaisical attempt at finding himself something to do other than sitting and staring into the abyss.
He wasn't having the greatest day. He'd woken up late, but he hadn't cared. Then, an hour or so after waking up, still dazed and sluggish, FRIDAY had broken him from his stupor.
"Mr. Wilson has asked for your presence on the common floor."
Harley and Sam didn't interact much, if at all. They were on the same team, of course, but that didn't give them much more material than small talk. The fact that he had been calling meant it was either something completely idiotic, or completely serious. With Peter's condition, the latter was more probable than the former.
"Mr. Parker is involved in the inquiry," FRIDAY had added helpfully.
Harley had run.
The elevator had not been fast enough. Not for the situation, not for Harley's ever-rising anxiety levels. He'd considered ditching the elevator and storming in through the stairs.
He'd found Sam, Peter, Thor, and Tony. He'd been anxious, that much had been clear to everyone in the room. Harley had been hoping for some good news, and it seldom had been.
But it really wasn't.
Harley had slipped out when they'd started talking about the mission. He didn't need to hear this. Peter might have, but he didn't.
So, he found refuge in the lab. He sulked in peace, twirling wrenches around for no good reason. Harley tried not to let it get to him. He'd been trying that a lot lately, to no avail. He couldn't just give up on Peter, though. He had to keep fighting.
He had to.
But Peter remembering Thor on his birthday cut deeper than he thought it would. It was a stabbing pain, a searing, burning, impassibly rough pain that he hadn't anticipated.
Remembering was good. It was progress.
He repeated that like a mantra, running it over and over again in his brain. If only it would stick. If only it would take the dagger out of his aching soul.
The lab became a sanctuary of some sort for Harley. The next 4 days he spent mostly in there. He tugged the blinds closed, allowing him to wallow in the dark. It was always easier than under the warmth of sunshine.
Harley didn't do much. He'd go on his phone, refreshing the messages he had with Peter, praying to some God out there that something would pop up because Peter had remembered and he'd wanted to surprise Harley like the dumbass he is.
Nothing happened. Harley's birthday wish had yet to be fulfilled.
On the 21st, the fourth day since Thor, the fifth since Bruce, Peter finally slept.
The team all ate dinner together, Peter opting for a seat in between Thor and Bruce, which sadly left Harley across the table, but he had to pick his battles.
Peter filled up on dinner, his energy levels having depleted significantly since he started moving around. It'd been tolerable at best when he was bedridden, but now it was nearing on unbearable if he didn't have at least 4 meals a day. He couldn't remember eating this much Before, but then again, he didn't remember much of anything from Before.
Peter didn't realize he was being handed a tray of freshly baked rolls until two were already on his plate. He didn't put them there, but they had somehow materialized on the china sometime in between his blinks.
His mind was running on fumes. It took him far too long to answer anyone's questions, which he tried his best to avoid altogether. He didn't remember having a bad short-term memory Before, but that was definitely the case right now. His brain was foggy, filled with smog so thick he could barely understand anything through it. All thoughts were halted, his memory hazy, his focus practically non-existent.
Peter worried he had always been this way. He worried he didn't remember being such a burden to the people around him.
He filled himself up on food, doing his best to compensate for his lack of sleep with an overdrive of nutrition (which was impossible in and of itself because of his insane metabolism, but you can't blame a guy for trying).
It wasn't like Peter had been avoiding sleep. Insomnia had just been so strong, so overpowering that he hadn't really been trying for the past few nights. If he knew he'd just toss and turn, sending himself into a state of frustration and annoyance, then he'd rather skip that and just keep watching television or walk around the Compound.
Once Peter had finished his dinner, he went over to the couch in the adjoining living room. No one batted an eye, the kid liked laying there for hours on end.
Tony found it strange that the TV hadn't turned on after a few minutes, so he checked on the kid, finding him asleep.
Asleep.
An aggressive, incessant shush came from Tony as he rounded the room back towards the dining hall. "Peter's sleeping, nobody make a sound or I will personally crush the vocal cords that emitted it."
The whole team went silent. Tony's threat wasn't what got them to quiet down, but what came before it. Peter was finally asleep.
Every single time Tony had seen Peter, he was awake. Tony had fallen asleep watching the live feed from Peter's room in the Medbay countless times, finding the kid awake after he went to sleep, and up before he woke up. Either he had been getting exponentially short nights of rest, or they had simply been non-existent.
Tony ushered the Avengers out of the common floor, telling them to confer in the conference rooms if they were desperate for time together. Stark was determined to keep his kid sleeping for as long as humanly possible. If that was measured in hours or days, he didn't care. So long as Peter would finally stop looking like a deadweight dragging itself around. The bags under his eyes already fulfilled that position beautifully, Peter didn't need to be a life-sized model.
7:21 PM.
Peter slept from 6:32, when he flopped onto the couch, until 7:21. Under an hour.
Tony would've been mad at the short length of rest, even for a nap, had it not been for the screaming.
Agonizing, sorrowful, petrifying screaming.
It wasn't a cry, it wasn't a choked sob. It was a yell, a scream. A desperate plea for help, for safety.
Tony had been at the kitchen island, working on his StarkPad. He'd seen Peter stir a few times in his sleep, but it hadn't been cause for concern. This, however, was cause for concern.
After the first murmured words, Tony got up from his stool. He made his way lazily towards the couch, trying to check on Peter without disturbing him back into full consciousness if he was still dozing.
It wasn't until Tony made it so that he was right above Peter's sleeping figure that he could discern what was being muttered. And then it started.
A particularly piercing shriek caught Tony off guard, making him flinch hard.
The scream wasn't really what had Tony worried, though it had caught him off guard. It was the voice who emitted it. The raw, terrified, young voice.
Peter had his eyes screwed shut, his legs pulled up to his chest, hands clenched tightly into fists twitching idly over his chest. His head was jerking around every so often, his brows creased and lips pulled into a tight line when the kid wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs.
Which he was.
The yelling was awful. It was loud, painful for all parties involved, and terribly grief-stricken. There was nothing but pure sorrow and desperation in Peter's cries. It didn't even seem like the boy was saying any words, just screams of agony.
Tony, after getting over the initial shock of Peter being the source of the noise, found a spot on the floor by the couch. He sat on his knees, trying to shake the teen awake.
"Pete? Come on, kid. Wake up, Bambi, you're okay," Tony was saying, desperate to get his pain to stop.
Peter continued to thrash on the couch, arms and legs flailing aimlessly yet powerfully, his screams echoing in the vastness of the common floor.
Tony had been the first one to react, to reach the kid and try to coax him back to consciousness, but he certainly wasn't the only one to hear Peter's pained pleas.
"What happened?" came Steve's voice, followed closely by another.
"Who's--" Clint cut himself off when he saw Peter on the couch, as far from resting as one could get.
Tony looked over his shoulder at both men who just entered the room, panting and panicked. "He won't wake up."
Steve locked eyes with him, just for a second. There was nothing but fear. Dark, overwhelming, crushing fear.
Peter was still screaming, not that anyone blamed him for it. They just wanted him to be okay. That's all they'd ever wanted.
A few firm steps later, Steve was right by Tony's side, aiding in trying to wake up the kid. Nothing they did seemed to bring him out of his trance. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on Peter's hairline, his pulse slamming dangerously fast against his wrists.
Peter took an unintentional swing at Mr. Stark, his nightmare creating an inescapable sense of panic. Tony barely dodged the punch, gripping the kid's arm as he came closer, once more. Forgetting that Peter was an enhanced individual, with incredible super-strength, Tony was taken aback when the boy ripped his arm from Tony's, flailing it around with more agitation than before.
Steve, super-soldier that he was, found his task in holding Peter's limbs down as he tried to fight against it.
Tony was brushing Peter's hair off his face, desperate to bring him any comfort. He just wanted to make this okay, to make the cries stop.
"Shh, Bambi. You're okay, you're safe. Just wake up, buddy," Tony whispered into Peter's curls, pressing an impressively light kiss to his head. He snapped his head away from the screaming teenager, turning towards the other person in the room.
"Clint, you have to call T'Challa. The Wakandans can fix this."
3 minutes of incessant calling and voiceboxes later, Clint got through to T'Challa. Rhodey had taken it upon himself, having heard Peter's horrifying screams from the training rooms, to help with the calls. He'd made no progress whatsoever on getting through to Shuri, but Clint assured him T'Challa would relay the message in person. Once they'd gotten confirmation that said task had been accomplished, they both put their phones away, stepping back into the elevator to take them to the common floor.
Almost immediately after barking out the order to Clint, Tony asked FRIDAY to get both Banner and Cho to the common floor. All he had said was 'Peter's not waking up,' and that had caused a cascade of panic and dread to fill the Medbay as both doctors rushed out of it, emergency supplies in hand.
They hadn't been expecting to hear Peter screaming if he was supposedly asleep, but it all clicked into place within a few seconds, when the screaming didn't let up.
Peter's throat had to be ragged by now. It was without a doubt dry, Peter's cries being cut off mid-momentum sometimes, his throat unsupportive of his non-stop yells. That didn't stop his unconscious body from trying.
Helen arrived by his side, finding both Steve and Bucky holding him down. He still thrashed under their relentless grip, but the movements were far more subdued than they'd been prior to the soldiers' arrivals. Cho barked orders at Bruce, telling him what supplies she'd need and to draw up a certain amount of a certain medicine.
Tony felt wildly out of place. He was by the kid's head, trying to shush him and placate him. The words didn't even seem to be registered at all, or Peter would've been calmed down by now. It wasn't going in one ear and out the other, it simply wasn't being accepted at all.
With Steve's entire efforts being put in keeping Peter's arm outstretched and immobile, Helen was able to start an IV (again). The question stood as to whether or not Peter's thrashing would rip it out before they got the chance to sedate him.
Thankfully, he didn't.
The screaming tapered off as Peter's breathing became increasingly heavy. His movements turned sluggish, the sedatives pulling him out of his terror, back to the semi-stable stages of REM sleep.
Everyone relaxed when Peter finally stopped moving and yelling. Silence had never seemed so serene, yet so horrifying.
Peter had just screamed his lungs out, his throat dry, his tongue ragged, until he'd been forced out of it by drugs. If they thought he'd been doing better, they were sorely mistaken.
Nobody moved for the longest time. They all stared at Peter, watching his forehead ease its tension, his hands unfurl from their tight fists. After a few minutes, once Helen was sure Peter would stay under, she spoke up.
"What happened?" was all she asked. There was no use in beating around the bush.
"Nothing, really," Tony answered. He had no forewarning that this would happen, and there was no possibility of anything having set him off. The entire team was either on different floors or stashed away in conference rooms at the opposite end of the common floor.
Cho sent a glance towards Tony as stepped closer to Peter, plucking a penlight from her pocket, shining it quickly in both eyes. "Pupils are dilated."
Bruce's brows furrowed at the information. "FRIDAY, what was his pulse like during the... screaming."
Tony visibly winced at Bruce's final word, but no one said anything. It had been horrifying for everyone, most of all Tony. It was hard to imagine that Peter had been the one responsible for the noise, let alone that it had started from nothing.
"Mr. Parker's BPM was 196 two minutes ago."
Cho clucked her tongue, putting the pieces together. It had been quite obvious, but she had wanted to confirm it before speaking with the rest of the group.
"This was a night terror," Helen announced, brows pulled together, pulling her gaze away from the now-peacefully sleeping boy.
Bruce nodded in acquiescence, leaving the other 4 men in the room mostly clueless. Tony knew what it was like, but he'd never gotten stuck like that. Screaming, pleading in anguish. He prayed Peter wouldn't remember any part of the dream that caused such intense pain.
"Why couldn't we wake him up?" Clint asked, almost shamefully. They'd all felt helpless, but hearing Peter yelling with such force was a sound Clint had never wanted to hear and would pray never to hear again. If that sound came from Cooper? Clint would be crying right alongside him, desperate for it to stop. He probably would’ve pulled his hearing aid out, too. How Tony hadn't burst into tears or crumbled into a mess of emotions was frankly astounding.
Cho didn't seem to know how to respond. And that was more terrifying than anything else.
They didn't have answers.
This wasn't like the amnesia. They'd just needed to complete a few tests to figure it out, and despite the wait that had to be endured for those tests to be accomplished, it was still a simple answer. It hadn't been pleasant, but it had been a clear-cut answer.
This was not. This was confusion, desperation, and helplessness. They simply didn't know.
"How has he been sleeping?" Helen asked, needing more information if she was to make an educated guess.
Tony, his hand still brushing locks of hair from Peter's forehead, answered quietly. "Less than me, if at all."
Steve knew just how little sleep Tony had been getting. Finding him passed out at the kitchen island was not a rare occurrence as of late. Seeing him up at 3 in the morning, pouring over live footage of Peter (still awake, enthralled in a TV show or movie,) then finding him awake (still) at 6, cooking up breakfast for their entire bunch.
"FRIDAY?" Steve asked, knowing the AI would be able to give them a more accurate tally.
"Mr. Parker has last slept on the 15th of December. This week, he has had 6 hours of rest."
Silence.
No reactions from anyone, aside from raised eyebrows, mouths gaping at the numbers.
"Fuck."
Tony's choice of word would've been reprimanded had it not expressed exactly what everyone was feeling. There wasn't anything better to describe the utter despair.
Peter hadn't been sleeping. At all. It wasn't just a few naps, short bursts of rest here and there, giving him a little kick of energy to keep going. He just wasn't sleeping. He'd forgone rest. The questioned begged as to why?
They'd have to wait until he was awake to know, but with the extended amount of time he'd gone without, that might be measured in a span of days.
"We should monitor him, at least while he's sedated," Bruce proposed, though it wasn't received well by Tony.
He snuck a glance away from the boy, turning towards the scientist. "He hates the Medbay. It's practically the only thing he's seen since waking up. Let him sleep in his room. FRI can keep you updated."
His words weren't fueled with anger, he'd kept his voice calm, level. The undertone in it was fear. He was terrified. He didn't want to leave the kid's side. Not now, not until he was sure that he'd never have to hear that godforsaken screaming ever again. He wanted to swaddle the boy in bubble wrap, in a box, wrapped in shining paper, topped with a bow. He had to protect Peter, save him from things he wouldn't be comfortable with.
"Tony, you know it's safer if we-"
"I can't let him go back there," Tony cut in, voice wavering. "I can keep him safe. He'll be okay in his room, he won't be as scared when he wakes up."
As awful as this whole ordeal was, if Tony could get Peter in his room, if he could make him feel more normal, not like a lab rat, like someone who was being watched 24/7, then maybe it'd make it all just a little better. A little more tolerable. Less stressful, less frightening.
It might've been better for them to forgo the IV and just inject Peter with a sedative, but with his metabolism, there was no telling if it would've been enough to keep him under. So, they had to deal with those consequences and decide if the IV was enough of an obstacle for them to prevent Peter from sleeping in his own room.
Cho sighed deeply. There wasn't much to be done about night terrors. There wasn't much danger with the sedatives, either. Peter would be as safe in his own room as he would be downstairs. "His room is fine. Just make sure he rests, and have FRIDAY call us when he wakes up."
"Of course, Dr. Cho," came the AI's voice from the ceiling.
"Hey," Rhodey said, placing a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder. The man whipped around, finding his best friend's eyes. "Pete's okay. We'll get him to his room."
Tony finally noticed that Steve had been looking at him expectantly. Peter's hair was still entangled in his fingers, and Tony showed no signs of moving to allow Peter to be moved elsewhere. Tony blinked dumbly, realizing that they'd all been waiting for him. He swallowed thickly, stepping back, letting his hand linger on Peter's head, relishing in the contact with the boy.
It felt so wrong this way. Peter didn't know him. There was nothing he could do about it except wait it out. That proved to be a lot harder than he had anticipated. There was hope, though. A tremendous, stupendous amount of hope. Shining in from every corner of the world, in the form of happy smiles thrown his way, cacklings with Thor, math and science explanations with Bruce that Tony overheard. Bits and pieces of the old Peter, their loved Peter, springing back into their lives. It felt like music to his ears every time Tony caught a glimpse of it. He couldn't wait for it to be the norm, once more.
Steve and Rhodey gently picked up the boy, supporting him as they dragged him over to the elevator, Tony trailing behind them. Clint wasn't sure how to act, but he bid them goodbye and went back towards the conference room to make a call back home. Bruce and Cho cleaned up the supplies they'd used, waiting for the elevator to come back down, empty, to go back towards the Medbay.
Once Peter was settled in his bed, looking so small and fragile, asleep and pale under the covers, Tony let the panic finally settle into him.
He didn't want to let it show, God knows no one would ever let him live it down, but he had too many emotions to keep them all bottled up. It just wasn't happening.
Tony managed to wave off Steve and Rhodey, assuring them he'd be fine to take the first shift watching Peter. He wasn't leaving the kid alone, not for a single second after what had just transpired, and the fact that no one had noticed he hadn't been sleeping prior to the night terror.
Tony found himself alone next to a semi-comatose Peter. He grabbed the teen's hand gently, desperate for some contact. He'd been trying to give him independence, especially when he didn't remember how co-dependent they were Before. It didn't mean he hadn't been missing the fuck out of his kid.
"I'm sorry, kid," Tony mumbled, not too sure why he was speaking to a sleeping figure.
It was always easier to apologize when they couldn't hear, he presumed. That was why he had apologized to Howard's grave, anyway.
"I should've been there for you. It won't happen again. Promise."
A promise that didn't have any meaning. Peter wouldn't know the promise would be made. Even if he did, it wouldn't hold any value for him. He didn't know Tony.
"You're gonna be okay. We're figuring this out."
Whether he was placating Peter or himself wasn't clear. It didn't matter in the end. Neither of them would believe it.
"Get some rest. I'll be here, always."
While Tony wouldn't be there when Peter woke up, 12-some hours later, he was still there for the kid all the time. Anything he needed, he would have. No questions asked. No limits.
Harley was blind to anything that had been going on.
He'd been avoiding Peter as much as possible. Seeing him was hurtful, and it wasn't his fault, but it didn't ease the pain to tell himself that. It was hard to look at Peter without falling in love with him all over again, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. Not for much longer, anyway.
Harley had appreciated the time he'd spent with him when he was still in the Medbay. The setting made it easier for him to understand that this was not a normal situation and that it would be resolved in the shortest delay possible. Now, though, with Peter roaming the halls like he always did, talking with his family like he always did, it made it impossibly hard for Harley to think that this was out of the ordinary. Like any part of this was wrong.
The only way for him to convince himself that Peter would remember him eventually was if he didn't let himself see that Peter didn't remember him now. Fake it till you make it. Ignorance is bliss. All that jazz.
His plan was easy enough for the first few days. All was well, aside from the few times he had to have dinner with the team. He couldn't help himself from stealing glances at his boy friend. He looked good, healthy, and he was conversing with the people around him, sometimes. He wasn't the one initiating the conversations, not by a longshot, but he was still answering whenever they happened to strike one up.
Everything was going perfectly according to plan. It was all working out. Of course, that's when it went to shit.
Harley had been in the lab, as per usual, when Rhodey had come striding through.
"Harley?" the man called through the vast, empty space. The lights were off, but FRIDAY had definitely said that Harley was in Tony's lab.
The teen didn't move. If he didn't do anything, Rhodey would go away, right? That's how shit worked in movies. This was not a movie.
Rhodey walked through the lab, pace fast and calling out Harley's name time and time again. Eventually, the boy gave it up and stood from his spot laying face-down on the couch in the back of the room. "What's up, Rhodes?"
Rhodey openly gaped at the kid. "'What's up?' Really? That's all you have to say?"
Harley was caught off guard by the sudden aggression in Rhodey's voice. What the hell had he done that was so offensive?
"Yeah?" Harley replied, unsure. "What else am I supposed to say?"
Rhodey didn't know how to proceed. Harley was being fucking dumb; not moving from the lab, barely eating outside of dinner, not reacting when he was told Peter had been screaming like he was dying.
"Why haven't you been by to see Peter?" Rhodey asked, voice tight.
That seemed to get his attention. "What happened with Peter?" Harley asked, face morphing from indifference to panic.
"You- Nobody told you?" Rhodes asked, stepping down from his anger. After the teen's confirming shake of his head, Rhodey supplied him with what he'd been missing. "He had a night terror. He wouldn't wake up from a nightmare."
Harley's face fell. Flat.
He wanted to see Peter. It was all he had wanted, but he'd managed to convince himself every time that it was better if he didn't. Except this definitely trumped that.
Rhodey was exasperated that Harley was exhibiting the same self-destructive behavior that he'd seen Tony do more times than he could count, but at least he still cared. Harley wasn't completely gone in his spiral that he wasn't bothered by the fact that his boy friend was in great emotional pain.
Extending his hand out, an invitation to pull Harley up from the couch, Rhodey spoke calmly. "Come on. He's still asleep, but I'm sure it'll do both of you some good."
Rhodey was right. It did do him good to see Peter.
He was thankful that he hadn't been there during the episode, if Tony's descriptions were anywhere near realistic, it sounded awful. Grateful that he had been absent in a time so horrid, yet feeling helpless that he hadn't been present in a time so dire.
He loved Peter. He loves Peter. He should've been there, no matter how terrifying and soul-crushing the screams might've been.
And despite that, he was still eternally grateful that he wasn't. It was probably selfish of him, but when was he not?
(Usually when he was around Peter.)
Harley spent some time by his side. He sat on the end of the bed, watching his lover sleep. Deep breaths, the rising and falling of his chest. Soft snores and head turns.
It was all very quiet, very calm. The opposite of what had been described before. Harley assumed the sedatives had a part to play in that. He didn't really mind, so long as Peter was okay.
Harley didn't speak to Peter, preferring to observe him. He placed a gentle hand on his ankle through the comforter, hoping his presence wouldn't jostle the kid awake, but at least make him feel not so alone. Not so scared in the recesses of his subconscious.
He left as quickly as he had come. He'd ensured Peter was okay, felt better for having seen him with his own two eyes, and then he was off.
There was no reason for him to linger there, staring, waiting, yearning. It was all too hopeful for Harley. He wanted to be bright and excited, but the facts weren't all pointing towards the same place. Peter would've been optimistic, he always was, but that was one of the only things that neither of them had rubbed off one another. Peter kept his optimism, Harley kept his pessimism; complimentary in their relationship.
"Finally," Tony said mere seconds after FRIDAY informed him that a Wakandan jet had just touched down on the grounds. It was a little after 2:30 in the morning on the 22nd.
He left Peter's room, where he'd been stationed ever since the kid's transfer there. Tony moved towards the landing pad, joined shortly thereafter by Bucky, Bruce, and Natasha. Sleeping had been rough on everyone lately, and with the news that the Wakandans would be joining them any second, it was probable the Compound was more alive than ever.
"How's the kid doing?" the latter asked upon seeing the other three. The whole team had been informed of Peter's night terror. Those who hadn't been present weren't as horrified at the prospect as those who had witnessed it, but the general atmosphere in the Compound had been wildly tenser since.
"Asleep. Breathing. Alive," Tony replied. It was abrupt, but not exactly unkind. There just wasn't much to say other than the fact that he was still alive. A terrific blessing he would not be taking for granted anytime soon.
The hatch from the jet opened, revealing T'Challa and Shuri, both making their way down.
"T'Challa," Tony greeted, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," came his reply. "A fallen soldier is in need. We will always come to help."
They all exchanged pleasantries, Tony urging everyone inside, desperate to get their new visitors to work. The sooner they started, the sooner everyone figured it out. There was time to waste, but that didn't mean they wanted to waste it.
Several extra personnel were aboard the jet, including several guards, and technicians of some sort. It wasn't clear to the Avengers who these people were, but if Wakandan royalty deemed them necessary, they would be nothing less than welcome at the Compound.
Shuri commandeered the unloading operation. "Where shall we set up shop?" she asked, turning towards Tony.
"Our supplies are in the Medbay, on the 2nd floor, but Peter's room is on the 8th."
"Of course they're not at the same place. Why would they be?" Shuri muttered to herself sarcastically. "We'll be using our own utilities. Is there an elevator nearby?" she called louder, speaking to the entire group, now.
"Straight ahead," Bruce answered, narrowing his eyes at the very young girl. "You're the one in charge here?"
T'Challa tried to stifle the grin that came from the question. He had seen firsthand how Shuri reacted to those kinds of questions, and he pitied the reaction Bruce would get for asking. "Yes," T'Challa said, cutting off any momentum Shuri was gaining to reply. "My little sister is the best scientist in Wakanda."
"Which means I'm the best scientist in the world," she supplied helpfully. "I am fully capable of helping Peter. Might I ask where you were when I was last here? That's right, you were busy not solving the problem."
Tony outright laughed. It felt strange, having spent the last few hours in near-silence, but it was a welcome distraction from the sulkiness of Peter's quiet room.
Bucky smiled, staring intently down at the floor. Bruce's cheeks flushed, prompting him to head inside, avoiding the situation in the only way he knew how; flee. Natasha smiled brightly at Shuri (which she rarely ever did). "Pleasure to see you again, Shuri."
"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Romanoff," Shuri replied, bounding off the platform and towards the inside of the building. "Is Peter awake at the moment?"
The answer should've been 'No, it's 2 am,' strangely enough, the answer was 'No, he's got enough sedatives in him to tranquilize a sumo-wrestling horse.'
T'Challa wasn't much help in this scenario, having had very little experience in the scientific field. He did, however, think he could be useful in the rest of their efforts. There had to be more to be done than just fixing the amnesia. The mission hadn't been entirely successful, from what he'd been told over the phone.
Bucky and Natasha led T'Challa over to the conference rooms on the common floor, finding their task in informing their guest of what had transpired.
Tony and a very ashamed Bruce helped Shuri and the technicians move their equipment to the 8th floor, into Peter's room.
It wasn't a lot of supplies, but enough that the room felt ridiculously smaller once they were done piling stuff inside. They'd let up on the sedation, per Shuri's request, though they were letting Peter sleep the rest of it off. It took another few hours before the kid woke up.
After a total of about 12 hours of sleep, the majority of it thanks to sedatives, the rest thanks to the quiet Shuri insisted on having in his room, Peter awoke. She only achieved her desired silence by ushering Tony and Bruce out, telling them they'd be 'notified when needed.'
Needless to say, she had no intentions of notifying them for a while.
Peter woke up groggy. He felt the softness of the comforter over him, the spaciousness of a mattress, as opposed to the tight space the couch was. It felt nice, to finally have been able to sleep.
He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't even remember getting to bed, but he wasn't complaining. He was still tired, but as much as before. It wasn't exhaustion that seeped into his bones, weighing him down from within. It was just a normal 'I have responsibilities and I'm a member of society with too much on my plate' kind of tired.
He stretched his arms and legs out, waking himself up as much as he could. He turned to his side, glancing at the clock on his nightstand.
7:14 AM.
He's slept overnight. That was a first.
Pulling his eyes away from the clock, he noticed the surreal amount of equipment in his room. That hadn't been there before. Had they brought all this stuff in while he was sleeping?
It would've made a lot of noise, no? He would've woken up?
Peter rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to remember what he was doing before going to sleep. How he got here.
His brain seemed foggy. It wasn't just tiredness, but something else. His thoughts were slow, though he wasn't new to that sensation.
He sat up in bed, only to be met with the sight of a young girl at the end of his bed.
Someone he didn't know.
Someone he hadn't met before.
She had been watching him sleep. Peter tried not to think too hard about that.
"Um... hi?"
She raised her eyes from the tablet in her hands, meeting Peter's confused gaze.
"Peter!" she greeted happily. "How are you feeling?"
She wore a sincere smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling with joy. Whoever she was, she was either happy that Peter was awake, or happy that he was in pain.
It didn't feel like the latter.
"I'm... good," Peter answered. He wasn't sure how to interact with her, but she seemed nice enough. A friend of some kind, he assumed.
"I'm assuming you have no memory of me," she claimed, standing from her cross-legged spot, moving to the side of his bed, standing next to where he was.
"No, I- I'm sorry, I don't."
The girl smiled fondly. "No need to apologize, Peter. I'm just glad I get to see you again," she smiled. She started tapping away at the screen in her hands, though it wasn't clear what she could've been writing.
"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked, offering water, food, more blankets, the whole nine yards.
Peter merely shook his head. "Not to be rude, but- Who are you?"
She laughed, shaking her head at herself. "Of course, I'm sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Shuri," she supplied, putting her hand out for Peter to shake.
"Okay, that's- thanks."
Peter was nervous. He didn't interact much with girls. That wasn't to say he was nervous or anything- really, he wasn't. Shuri seemed like a great friend, he just didn't know how their friendship was before.
Was she the reason why May and Harley had been weird when Peter asked about a girlfriend?
"I was brought here from Wakanda," she stated, setting her tablet down on Peter's nightstand. "I am a scientist, here to help you."
Peter's expression turned to distrust. Shuri was nice, yes, but that didn't mean she was qualified, necessarily. "You're a scientist?"
"Yes."
She didn't seem like she was going to elaborate. However, she didn't seem like she was lost, either. She was determined and smart. Peter could feel it. He knew what it was like for people to downplay your capabilities because of your youth. He wasn't going to do that to Shuri, she deserved better than that. Plus, it'd be hypocritical. Peter was no hypocrite (at the moment).
"That's- Really cool, actually."
"Yes, it is," Shuri agreed, her lips quirking upwards. Peter was just like she remembered him from their past encounters. Sweet, awkward, dorky in a good way, and overall Anxious Bisexual™. "Mind laying down so I can scan you?"
Peter obliged, a nervous smile playing at his lips. He was expecting a clunky machine, or some of the big equipment to be wheeled into play. He was pleasantly surprised when all Shuri did was wave her arm above Peter's entire body, an image of Peter's body springing into a hologram seconds after she was done.
"Holy shit," Peter gaped at the display. Holograms were standard, but the fact that Shuri's bracelet had scanned him and was also the source of the hologram was pretty fucking cool. "You are... on X-games mode."
Shuri had to stifle the laugh that came from Peter's comment. "Yes, well it seems that you are as well, Parker."
Peter braced his hands by his side, raising an eyebrow questioningly. When Shuri nodded at him, he pushed himself back into a sitting position, propped up by his headboard.
"What's the verdict?" he asked, far more at ease than he was before. She had laughed at his reference, she called him Parker (which was something he didn't know he needed), and she was being ridiculously nice. Shuri was the friend he didn't know he needed. He wished Harley was there, he hadn't seen much of the other boy in the past week.
"Well," Shuri started, spinning the hologram so it faced Peter. "Your physical health seems perfectly fine, though I can't say for your psychological state," she added with a raised brow.
"I'm okay," Peter promised, smiling timidly from his spot.
He was mostly okay. He missed having Harley around to talk with, and he hadn't seen Bruce in a while, but he guessed that was a good thing. Thor was nice to chat with, but he hadn't been around all that often lately, so that was disappointing. Shuri seemed to be the perfect addition to what he'd been missing, so having her here was exactly the remedy he needed. If they were truly friends like she seemed to be, then there was plenty left to be learned about their bond. And if she was the girlfriend that had everyone on edge whenever he mentioned it, then he'd just found her again.
(It didn't feel like it, but his mind was all scrambled, he wouldn't know any better.)
Shuri smiled down at him, content that he was both physically and (somewhat) psychologically okay. It could've been worse, she reasoned. Though near-total memory loss wasn't a stellar occurrence to endure, Peter wasn't dead, so that was something.
Peter swung his feet over the edge of the bed, making to get up. He'd been sleeping for 12 hours, and he hadn't gone that long without the bathroom in very long. He tried to get up, only to stumble back down on the bed. The sedatives (unbeknownst to him) had taken their toll.
"Careful there," Shuri said as she gripped his forearm, the hologram projection from her bracelet dissolving as she dropped her wrist from its specific position. "Wouldn't want you seeing stars, now, would we?"
Stars.
Stars.
Stars.
The Quinjet's motors were loud in Peter's ears. It wasn't his first time on the jet, but every single time he came aboard it he noticed the way the engines roared louder than he remembered. It was cumbersome, to say the least. He found it hard to focus with the obscene racket taking place all around him.
Usually, when sounds got too loud, Peter had an escape. The Quin, however, didn't allow for that.
The flight lasted seven hours. It was absolute hell on Peter's senses, but it was worth it.
His first trip to Wakanda.
His first time meeting Shuri in person.
Mr. Stark had set him up with Shuri a couple of months after Germany. Bucky had been sent to Wakanda to help him out with the whole 'Winter Soldier' thing, and Shuri was taking the lead on that project. When Mr. Stark learned that Shuri was a 15-year-old kid-genius, just like Peter, he'd done his part in getting them to exchange numbers.
There were more than a few winks in the process from Tony. Peter just laughed it off.
He and Shuri had been texting regularly ever since. They had the same kind of humor, the same taste in music (theatre pop, 80s rock, and a smidge of SZA in there, too), and they both had a passion for science. Their entire friendship was a no-brainer.
It didn't take long at all for them to become best online friends. (Ned's title could never be replaced)
So, when the Quinjet landed and the hatch opened, Peter was one of the first people off the plane. He bounded down to the concrete landing area, coming face to face with a trio of royalty and a dozen or so guards standing next to them.
Peter saw T'Challa first, nodding his head solemnly with a 'Hello, Mr. Wakandan King, sir,' to which Shuri snickered loudly. He turned to face her, and that's when it hit him.
This was Shuri. This was his best friend across the fucking globe.
He wasted no more time in tackling her in a hug that sent both of them tumbling to the ground. A few guards stepped closer, believing it to be an attack, but T'Challa waved them off. There was no threat here, that much was clear after how Peter had addressed him.
Tony and Bucky stepped off the plane shortly thereafter, finding Peter and Shuri practically rolling on the floor in laughter. They were physically on the floor, but they weren't rolling, so Tony was slightly less embarrassed than if that had been the case.
"Okay, Pete, stand up and be polite for a minute," Tony scolded.
Peter stifled his laughter as best he could, standing up and offering his hand to Shuri to help pull her up. Once they were both back on their feet, they exchanged a simpler hug of the not rib-crushing variety, and Peter fell in line with Tony and Bucky.
"Barnes!" Shuri exclaimed, pleased to see him again. He'd spent his fair share of time in Wakanda after Germany, and they'd gotten close. So close, in fact, Bucky still owned goats in Wakanda, which he prayed were being cared for in his absence.
"Shuri," Bucky beamed, pulling the girl into a side-hug. "Who's been taking care of my goats?"
Shuri laughed at the question, "Ayo, so don't worry. Stevie and Becca have been taken care of."
Peter was shocked at the new information but tried not to let it show. Okay, he didn't really try.
"Mr. Bucky? You have goats here? Called Stevie and Becca?" Peter squealed, excitement making him giddy.
"Yeah, kid. And if you'll excuse me, I bet they've missed me."
With that, Bucky was off to see his goats. (Who knew?)
Shuri waved him off, telling him to ask Ayo how they'd been behaving, before turning over to her favorite guest. "I have something to show you."
The announcement was cryptic, but not ill-received. Peter looked over his shoulder at Mr. Stark, his face full of uncertainty.
"Go have fun, kiddo. I have grown up stuff to do," he said, answering Peter's unasked question. The boy merely smiled brightly, looking back at Shuri.
"Let's go!"
Shuri led him inside the building. What Peter had called 'the castle' because they were royalty, even though Shuri insisted that it wasn't a castle and that they weren't 'that kind of royalty.'
Winding their way through the maze of corridors and floor-to-ceiling windows, expertly guided by the princess, they eventually found themselves in the South wing. Shuri blocked the entrance to a double-door, grinning from ear to ear at Peter.
"We're going in here," she said, her tone chipper and excited.
"I can see that," Peter replied, laughing nervously. "What's in there?"
"You'll see," Shuri promised with a tilt of her head and a shrug of her shoulders.
She took a deep breath, taking one last long look at Peter before pushing the doors behind her open. They revealed the tallest ceiling Peter had ever seen in his life.
It was a spectacularly large dome, glass all around. Every single wall, the whole ceiling, it was all glass. The floors, opposite to the previous white tiles in the rest of the building, were a pristine black. Shining, glistening in the dark, vast room.
There was no light, which was disconcerting, especially considering the late hour of the night. The only reason Peter was able to see at all was because of the moonlight streaming in through the walls.
It was breathtaking. You could see the entire Wakandan skyline, the fields rolling in the distance, far beyond the business of the city. Lights from every skyscraper filled Peter's sight, twinkling like stars, shining and bright, colors of white, yellow, and orange tinging their view.
Standing tall in the middle of the room, cutting through the dome ceiling, was a monstrous telescope. Peter thought you could see into another universe if you looked through it.
Peter audibly gasped as he took it all in, spinning around to see as much of it as possible.
"So?" Shuri asked, looking at him expectantly. "What do you think?"
Peter gaped at her. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was incredible in every sense of the word.
"Are you kidding?" he squeaked, running to encase her in his arms. "This is amazing!"
They spent the rest of the night, like, all of it, in the observatory watching the stars. They saw them move as time progressed, saw the moon's glow change spots, casting different shadows at different times of the night.
It was a perfect evening, a perfect night, and well into a perfect morning.
They were both exhausted the next morning at breakfast, even in front of the huge spread of food that sat before them. Neither of them would change a thing, though.
Peter swayed where he stood, falling back onto the bed, even with Shuri's vice-grip attempting to keep him standing.
"Peter? Are you alright?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
The boy took a deep breath, steadying his racing thoughts. There was nothing but flashes of Shuri in his mind. The time he went to Wakanda, those times she came to New York, the first time she met MJ, the time she told him she was dating MJ. It was all falling into place, and it was making his head throb.
"I'm- I'm okay?" he said, though it came out more like a question than a statement. Shuri frowned.
"Are you sure?"
"Y-Yeah. Just got a little mad, I guess, that you've been holding out on me with that observatory."
Shuri's frown cut deeper before it eased. She felt momentarily more confused until it all let up. "Peter!"
He sat back up, finding his strength in his best friend's arms. "It's so nice to see you again," Peter claimed, tightening their hug just a tad.
He felt safe in her arms. He felt like he had a place. Like it was all okay, if only for this moment. He had a friend, he wasn't alone. He remembered.
"FRIDAY," Shuri called into the room, though her head didn't move from its spot on Peter's shoulder. "Tell everyone Peter has remembered more."
They should've been excited. The team was optimistic, sure, but they weren't excited anymore. They couldn't find any rhyme or reason for Peter's remembering. There was no connection at all to the people or the ways he was remembering. The only thing that linked all the people that Peter had remembered was that they were all Peter's friends.
So, the team wasn't nearly as excited as they used to be when Peter remembered Shuri.
It wasn't a specific word that had been repeated, Tony made sure of that by rewatching the footage prior and after Peter's memory sparks. And, it certainly wasn't the most important people in Peter's life. Thor? The kid had seen Thor a handful of times when he wasn't busy ruling Asgard.
It made no sense for Peter to be remembering this way. Amnesia didn't work this way. What the fuck was this?
The Avengers were starting to get anxious. Peter was remembering, but it was sporadic. It wasn't gradual, it wasn't a few new memories whenever he woke up (certainly not, considering he hadn't been sleeping), it wasn't anything the team could put their finger on. Despite his physical health getting much better, the boy was more confused with every new memory coming back into his fragmented mind.
It was like trying to solve a puzzle. Peter didn't know where to put the pieces of his mind that he already had. He thought it was 2015, yet he was wrong. He had no clue what to start with, the side pieces of his puzzle were too deep in the box to even place correctly. He was shooting in the dark. Every time he remembered someone new, more puzzle pieces were being dropped into his box of a mind. He didn't know what to make of anything, and what he thought he knew was being pushed farther and farther away from his grasp.
The team didn't know what to do, at this point.
They had to resort to a meeting.
A couple of hours later, once Peter had been ushered back to sleep (with a secret little cocktail of sedatives, soft coos, and hair playing), everyone settled into one of the conference rooms on the common floor. Room 17A. They'd remember that for a while. Shit had gone down.
"We need to figure this out," Tony called from the head of the table. To his right, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Shuri, Bruce, and May sat, either anxiously fidgeting, or projecting calm despite themselves. To Tony's left, Thor, Steve, Clint, Rhodey, Bucky, and Nat were seated. At the other end of the table was T'Challa, listening intently.
"If I may," Vision started, raising a hand tentatively to gain everyone's attention. "I believe, from my knowledge of amnesia, that Mr. Parker is currently on course with predictions surrounding regaining his memories."
"The Vision is correct!" Thor boomed, slamming an open palm onto the wooden table. "Young Peter has remembered me, and thus is healthy and strong."
Tony's eyes narrowed at both of them, disapproving of their comments. Thor was a little self-centered at the moment, but they could ignore him easily enough. Vision was throwing a wrench in the works because he was quite literally the internet, so his opinion was more often than not factually correct.
"His mind is distant," Wanda said, placing a gentle hand on Vision's arm as if asking permission to speak. "I can feel it. He's not who he was before, but I don't think this is just because of his memory loss. He feels... cold."
"Cold?" Rhodey asked incredulously, looking at the young woman with a raised eyebrow and a perplexed expression. "How can a mind feel cold?"
Wanda shrugged, unsure how to explain it to someone who couldn't feel it themselves.
"Alright," Tony said, trying to get them back on track. "So we think there's more here than just normal amnesia?"
"Every test we've done points towards it, Tony," Bruce announced, placing his hands together on the table.
"Tests aren't always reliable. They could've been wrong-"
"When you hear hoofbeats think horses, not zebras," Vision supplied. "We must not jump to the most improbable solution, simply because we fear it the most."
Everyone stared at Vision, who remained impermeable underneath their gazes. "What he said," Bruce added helpfully.
"We were called here to help, were we not?" Shuri spoke up, raising a brow inquisitively at the rest of the table.
"Yes," came Tony's exasperated reply.
"Then kindly allow us to do so," the girl said as she stood up.
"How much experience have you got with this, kid?" Sam asked, seated deeply in his chair.
"More than you."
Bucky sent a glare at his partner from across the table. "Shuri helped me after Germany. She's the one who pulled all the HYDRA shit from my brain. She's good."
"The princess of Wakanda has experience removing pieces of memory, as she has done for Mr. Barnes. She does not, however, have any experience retrieving information from the depths of one's consciousness."
Vision was proving to be very helpful in this scenario. Tony wasn't having it.
"Alright, Toaster, you're dismissed. Phase through the wall if you have to, just get out of here. You're not helping."
The message was received, and it didn't take long for the request to be fulfilled.
"Tones, you think this isn't just amnesia?" Rhodey asked, trying to clarify what the man was getting to.
"I don't know," the billionaire admitted honestly.
"Vulture is still out there," Natasha reminded them. Her timing seemed a little off, but they were welcoming just about anything about Peter's situation right now. "You were all a little preoccupied--"
"--Busy saving a kid's life--"
"--To stop him from getting away," Nat finished, adding one of her murderous stares Sam's way for the interruption.
"Vulture?" May asked, piping up for the first time since the whole debacle had started.
Bruce turned to her, seated next to him, and started explaining what they knew of him quietly. The man signaled to Tony to keep going with the meeting.
"Nat's right, we need to find him," Steve concluded. "He's an important part of this, and if it's really not amnesia, then he might be behind this."
Clint had stayed quiet. He didn't want to think that this wasn't amnesia. He didn't want to think about any of this, at all. Peter was just a kid. Whether it was amnesia or not, he was in pain, he was confused, he didn't remember his family. Top three things Clint wanted least for his kids. Peter now fit into that category.
"I can take the lead on the Vulture case," Nat said, raising her previous point.
"I can help out," Steve offered, sending a tight-lipped smile towards his friend.
"FRIDAY can help you guys search," Tony added. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, typing furiously. "I'm setting her up to scan the city, and Jersey, for Toomes' facial markers. She'll give us a ping if she gets a hit."
"Feel free to use Wakandan satellites to aid in your search," T'Challa said, knowing their advanced tech could definitely be useful in times like these. "I could oversee their use, as well as help with the process."
Nat and Steve nodded, standing up to get to work. There wasn't much else for them to say, they'd prefer to start searching than to sit around, twiddling their thumbs. T'Challa joined them, moving swiftly out of the room.
"And what do we do when we get a ping?" came Sam's voice, as he leaned forward, crossing his arms over his chest, resting his elbows on the tabletop.
"We'd need a team available 24/7 to track him down," Clint suggested. He wasn't one who supported waiting around. He was an act now, think later kind of guy. Especially when it came to his kids. He wanted to be outside, fighting, searching, ASAP.
Sam pointed a finger towards Clint in agreement. Bucky and Wanda nodded their acquiescence as well. Everyone seemed on board.
"Okay, rotating schedule. Teams of three. On-call for 6 hours at a time," Rhodey suggested, going for peak efficiency, as well as safety.
"If you get a ping on your shift, you get your ass out there and don't come back until Toomes is either dead or dying," Tony added.
It was quiet for a moment after Tony's proclamation. Everyone was in agreement. It would be resolved in the next few minutes. Now, they had a plan. They were a team, a single unity, working towards a common goal. They all wanted Peter's wellbeing and wanted the perpetrators in custody.
"What about Peter?"
May, despite knowing that Vulture was very important, also had to be thinking of Peter first. She cared too much about her nephew not to be thinking about him all the time, add to that the fact that he was a masked vigilante, and she was nervous even when she slept.
"He's being monitored 'round the clock," Bruce assured her, placing a kind hand on hers. "We're keeping an eye on him."
"You can't watch him constantly," May protested. She thought she might've sounded childish, or petulant, but she was advocating for Peter. They couldn't watch him constantly, that much was a fact. They needed something for when there weren't any eyes around.
"I've got a monitoring program set up within FRIDAY. She tells me whenever the kid does pretty much anything. If he so much as opens the wrong door, I'm notified," Tony assured.
May hesitated before speaking next. She didn't want to overstep, and certainly didn't want to undermine Tony's importance in Peter's life, but he was her nephew. "Could I be alerted too?"
Tony smiled at May from across the room. "Of course."
They all breathed a little better after that meeting. Room 17A. Where problems had been brought up, and problems had been solved.
T'Challa and Shuri had been welcomed into their team, embraced by (almost) all for their abilities and intelligence. T'Challa would be assisting with the search, and even asked to be included in the rotating schedules for the Vulture ping. Shuri would be working closely with Banner and Cho, figuring out what they'd learned so far, doing some testing of her own, and drawing conclusions together. Shuri had plans to turn one of the guest rooms next to the living quarters into an office for them, where they could work in close proximity to where Peter would be spending most of his time. She was antsy to get started, sending an impatient glance around the room;
"Could we wrap it up?"
Next Chapter
