There was no going back now.

I wasn't sure how to begin, and "It all started with street-fighting" a sounded bit too rushed and to-the-point for my liking. It had started before that, things ran a little deeper, which meant I had to go in depth. But, just how in depth should I go. Should I start right as I got my powers, or cut straight to the professional wrestling? Should I keep the tone serious? Or should I go off the jokey end like Deadpool had?

No, not the jokey end – that had just been irritating. The team probably wanted a straight answer.

I fidgeted on the floor as I realized I was taking too long. They were all staring, expecting a story about my past. They probably realized this was one of the few chances they would get to actually learn something about me that wasn't humorous or super-inspirational.

I tried to meet their eyes but found their gazes far too intimidating to hold. It was if, with a single look, they would know everything. Every little irresponsible, idiotic act that I did; their judgment passed prematurely through my eyes. Nova shifted beside me, and I flinched, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, "I didn't immediately become a hero when I got my powers," and with those 11 words, I had their complete attention.

Swallowing, I numbly reached up and grabbed Nova's blanket, fiddling with it nervously. Maybe it'd be easier if I had something besides their eyes to look at. "I-I'm not some saint who got powers and immediately decided to be a hero. In fact, when I got my powers, being a hero was the farthest thing from my mind. I'm-I'm still human. I was still a kid. And like a kid, I ended up doing something...something really stupid. I mean, all I could think about was how I could benefit from them, personally, especially -" I paused, hesitant. I didn't want to make Flash feel worse than he already felt. Maybe I could just brush over that and - Angel Spidey popped in front of me, tsking and shaking his finger. The whole story, he chided.

I scowled at him.

"Especially how I could finally get back at the bullies who were always beating me up," I pushed the words out, grimacing with guilt as Flash flinched and looked down at his hands. They softened and tightened, as if remembering. Before I could change the subject, Squirrel Girl looked up from the mound of squirrels snuggling against her.

"You-you were bullied too?" she breathed, eyes wide like she couldn't quite believe it. "You?"

"We-well, yeah...kind of."

She tilted her head, lips pursing, "Kind of, how?"

"Umm..." I rubbed my neck, hoping that it would maybe warm my throat and let the words flow easier. "I guess not kind of. I mean, it happened, but um, it was fine. N-not that bullying is fine. I was fine. I mean, I wasn't fine, but I was usually okay..." I winced, quickly tapping off on the word flow, only they kept coming. "I mean, m-my glasses broke a lot, but duck-tape helped, and I could always get new pairs. But I was - I was, uh, it just kind of became of way of living, and uh - it took a lot of coping and talking, but it - I - I mean, glasses could always be fixed, and, uh..."

My help came in the form of Cloak quirking an eyebrow. "You wore glasses?"

"Uh, yea-yeah, I didn't have the best vision. But uh, just had to get bitten by that radioactive spider, and then, you know, 20/20 vision," I shot him an awkward thumbs up. "Which is nice to have, didn't realize I was missing out on some very vivid things. So...uh, all is cool. All good here," with my silence quickly tapering off into something awkward I filled the growing gap with a cough in my fist.

"Anyway, I think we're getting off track. Um, at the time my guardi -" I paused. They already knew my name and Nova already mentioned Uncle Ben, so what was the point of acting discretely? "My aunt and uncle were having a bit of trouble with the bills and since I was a kid, there wasn't really much I could do. But, I - uh, I found this ad in the newspaper for costume wrestling. There was $1,000 to anybody who could beat this stupid wrestler in a match, and..." I traced the grooves in the blanket. "-and I guess I was feeling pretty cocky about myself. I figured I could beat this guy pretty easily with my new powers, did the math in my head and everything, but when I showed up to the match they wouldn't let me in." I snorted wryly; remember the look on the administrators' faces when I tried to sign up.

"Not that I blame now. I mean all I had as a costume was a big sweater I found in the attic and a ski mask. I'm pretty sure they caught on really quickly that I was just a kid. For a bunch of mean-looking guys, they had good morals, I guess...sort of. Well, they laughed in my face, threw me out, and called me a twink, but," I shrugged. "it hurt my ego more than anything. So, I fell out of semi-professional costume wrestling rather quickly, or - well, more like I never even got in the same boat with it." More like stood on the boarding plank and waved it off. "But I ended getting into something a bit dirtier and violent than that, which was street-fighting,"

Past the morphing looks of astonishment from the team, Triton leaned forward with his head propped in his hands looking absolutely enthralled. "And what is street-fighting?" he asked. "It certainly doesn't sound good."

I smiled dryly down at the wrinkled frowns of the blanket, "Cause it's not. Street fighting is kind of like costumed fighting, only it has a lot less costumes, is a lot more brutal, and it has fewer rules. Instead of the usual good old whack-and-punch techniques, street-fights encouraged dirty tricks and scams to win. Pretty much, you won by doing whatever you could to beat the other guy. But I guess the one I got into was more of a professional street-fight, now that I think about it, it was a lot more organized than the ones I've broken up as Spider-Man."

I glanced up at Triton, who seemed to drink in every detail, with his eyes still bright with curiosity. "And what is street-fighting exactly," he asked.

"Well," I thought about the answer for a second, "basically, a bunch of rich nobodies - probably drug dealers or gang leaders – would fund these every-Friday night fights. A bunch of different gangs would put forward one person to fight, and the spectators who showed up could bet on who they thought was going to win. But the wages bet against each fighter didn't have to be money; there were weapons, drugs, gang territories, and all those kinds of things involved. Well, at least that's what it was for the fights I was in. Anyway, the major bets would be set aside for the 'wrestler'" I emphasized with finger quotations, "who won. Usually, it started with two wrestlers, and whoever won that fight moved onto the next, and so forth until there were only two left. I mean, it was a little more complicated than that, but I don't want to get into the whole system and what not, all you really need to know is that they would all duke it out until one of them beat the other unconscious, and the last one standing wins.

I did a quick look-around, worried that they'd be irritated with my prattling. No one looked irritated though, just intrigued. I shifted my position but kept my eyes pinned to the blanket, mapping out it's woven strands as I dug up the day of my first street-fight.

"It-it was an accident when I stumbled onto the street-fight. I...I admit I was throwing a tantrum for being kicked out of costumed wrestling," my cheeks flushed red, even if they couldn't see my face, "and I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, and ended up by this old condemned building. I picked up on some noise, and- being stupid - went to see what it was. Well...long story short, it was a street-fight, and short-story that's still short, I was found pretty quickly. The two goons who found me weren't sure what to do – thank goodness – and took me to their boss. Now, this was a professional street-fight, so it was pretty low-key and close to the chest, which meant they weren't just gonna let me guy I was brought to wanted to just kill me off and dump my body in the harbor." A slip of bitterness dissolved in my words, "They didn't even care that I was a kid, all they cared about was staying aloof to the authorities,"

I could still recall one of the goons pulling a gun out of their jacket and the way it hovered over my temple just shy of touching. The fact that there were actual people like that - people who would kill of a kid - really... really just pissed me off. What if it hadn't been me who found that street-fight? What if it had been someone else? A different kid who had been too curious for their own good?

With a surprised jolt, I released the blanket from my death-grip as I realized I was strangling it. Tension was already building in my shoulders, and I could feel the tight knotted muscles I got this morning rise subcutaneously. With a deep breath, I smoothed the blanket in my lap, pulling out the creases and wrinkles till it became a plain over my knee's. The team waited patiently, which I was grateful for, I don't think I could've kept my temper in check otherwise.

With another breath, I continued, "I - freaked out, to say the least. In a fit of desperation, I told them I would beat them and any one of their wrestlers if they didn't let me go. They thought that was pretty funny, so much, in fact, that they actually put me in the ring. Told the crowds I was a 'treat' for their champion wrestler, just a little something to warm him up before the game. I was still wearing the sweater from my costume and had the mask with me, which didn't really work in my favor. I had painted a big spider on the front, you know, as my own little joke, but they started calling me 'Spider-Boy' because of it. Their champion fighter was the biggest non-super-powered or genetically spliced guy I've ever seen. His stage name was Bonesaw," I smiled lightly when a round of snickers passed through the group. "Yeah, I thought it was stupid too."

"It was a small fight, but it felt like forever. It wasn't the first time a fist was thrown at me," Flash winced again. "but it definitely wasn't like any of the other times. He got a couple good hits in before I actually managed to knock him out, and, well," I shrugged stiffly, "they loved it. The crowds wanted to see me fight again, so they put me against of few of their other wrestlers, which I ended up beating too. When it was over, the leader who put me in the ring got the loot, he even gave me half money and said I could leave if I wanted." I shook my head rancorously, "Which was stupid of me to believe. They would have probably shot me in the head as soon as I stepped out of the room. But, I didn't leave, because the leader asked me if I would become a permanent fighter under his jurisdiction. I...I didn't say yes because I'd likely be killed otherwise, but because..." I bunched my hands in my lap as if to hold the truth to myself for a just a little bit longer, "I liked winning. I liked it so much. I liked it when the crowd cheered me on with every punch, and I liked how powerful it made me feel," I snuck a glance back at Flash, whose eyes widened with surprise. "I mean, I was a little hesitant a little at first...but - but the guy even offered to pay me, which was what wanted I want all along. I didn't even think twice about how they were ready to kill me if I said no when I signed up."

I chuckled humorlessly, a bitter sound of contempt and self-loathing. Shame colored my face and made the mask hot. "Thankfully, I wasn't a complete idiot and gave them my name." I mumbled sourly, "Instead, I asked the leader-guy to give me a name, like Bonesaw had, and do you know what they called me?" I paused to look over the faces of my colleagues, waiting to see if any of them would say it.

None of them did.

"Spider-Man," I said. "They named me: The Amazing Spider-Man" I waved my hands in the air as if to display a gaudy title adorned with flashing lights and bright colors. "And with every good stage name, there had to be an outfit, right? It was my match manager that actually got me this costume," I pinched a piece of my suit up and let it snap back against my skin. "Sure I helped design it a little, but he liked the bright colors and big lenses cause it made me look small and easy to beat, which only inspired more challengers." Cloak and Dagger seemed to share an almost subconscious look as if automatically running their thoughts by each other. Eyes bore into my costume like hot needles. Even Scarlet was listening, despite his nonchalance against the wall.

It was with a hint of surprise when I realized this was the first time I've ever held their rapt attention outside of a life-or-death situation. But I didn't stare too long. The prospect of having to meet someone eye-to-eye sounded as pleasant as being stripped naked and tossed out in the snow.

"I learned the rules of the game pretty quickly," I continued airily, "Number one: You couldn't look weak. Or well, you usually tried not to. I was the only exception because," - because I always looked weak - "the suit made me look weaker than I was. Two: dirty tricks were encouraged. If someone happened to have a pair brass-knuckles in their pocket or a small knife in their shoe, what was the audience to do? But I wasn't really into that kind of thing, I mean - I didn't want to get too violent. So, I made myself my web-shooters." I looked down at my wrist, staring at the spot just above the crest of my palm where my web-shooters were cloaked. I could feel a low hum tingling against my skin, and frowned. "Yeah, they all got a real kick out of them," The hum turned into the awed cheering of a crowd roaring with approval as I pinned my opponent down with layers of webbing. The excited voice of the ultracrepidated referee was loud in my ear as he approved the knock-out with exaggerated waves of his arms. The leader representing me grinned, showing simple approval with a nod of his head; filling me with pride. The chanting of the crowd was like snowfall in my head, faint, but growing, filling me up from the inside out. 'Spider-Man! Spider-Man! Spider-Man! Spider-Man!'

"Spider-Man?" I looked up, staring into the white eyes of Iron Fist. "Are you okay?" he was asking, passive voice betrayed by a slip of worry. I wasn't quite sure if he was asking because I had stopped talking, or because he picked up on whatever chi-energy I must've been putting out, but I leaned back, arms pliant and folded. The aura of calm.

But when I spoke, my voice cracked, "yeah," I cleared my throat under my hand and tried again. "Yeah. Where was I?"

Iron Fist hesitated, shoulders curling in slightly. "Are you sure you want to continue?" he asked.

No, I wanted to say. I didn't want to continue. In fact, I wanted to get up, walk out of the dorms, and hide in a ventilation shaft on the other end of the Triskelion until the storm passed and I could go home to Aunt May. No one told me that talking about it was equivalent to swallowing a brick. No one said anything about the shadowed emotions that would come creeping back into my heart. But I nodded instead with a smile that stretched my cheeks, "Yeah, yeah, I can keep going. So, uh, I got to the part about my web-shooters, right? Okay, so - after that I got really invested in my new 'hobby'. I stopped doing homework, shirked on my chores, and focused my time on fighting. I didn't think it was a big deal then. I mean, I got a lot of money; my reputation was growing within the underworld of crime - which, you know, is always a plus – I could slip cash to my aunt and uncle to help their financial debt, I had enough money to buy things I wanted; I thought I had something pretty great. Hell, I was even beginning to see these people as my friends, and I..." my sentence broke off as my stomach squirmed, and suddenly not meeting their expressions didn't seem like enough. I pulled the blanket over my head, letting it cover up my head, shoulders, and fumbling hands. "I was an idiot."

"Then one day, everything kind of went," I blew a raspberry and made an exploding gesture with my hands, which probably looked strange outside the blanket. "When it happened it was just like any other night I fought. I got my fight, as usual, beat this new guy and won. Same ol', same ol'. But it was when I went to get my winnings when there was a problem. The guy managing the money only gave me half of what I earned and, looking back, I'm pretty sure he was on some kind of drug, because that never really happened to me before. So, he didn't give me my money and I got mad," the words were sour on my tongue, "but this guy already knew my age and knew all the right things to say to make me feel stupid, so... so I ended up leaving feeling humiliated. But on my way out, I into this other guy out in the hall, he wasn't anything special. Just an average guy, but when I got down the hall I heard shouting and the next thing I knew the same guy was running past me with this big bag full of cash."

I rubbed my forehead, feeling an ache in my temple, as if what I'd done back then was enough to cause me physical pain.

"I could've stopped the guy," I admitted in suspiration. "I could've just stuck my foot out and that would have been enough. Instead, I...I moved out of the way to let him pass. The manager got angry and asked why I didn't stop him, but all I told him was to stop acting like a kid and grow up - exactly what he said to me. I know, it was petty and stupid," and I felt really proud of myself afterward. "...but...but that all kind of went down the toilet when I got home. My house was taped off by policemen and ambulances were parked in front of the house. I had to shove my way past a crowd of people just to get to my Aunt May. I remember seeing her crying on the couch, trying to tell the policeman about some thief with a gun; the-there was a blood stain on the carpet, and...and I watched two officers carry a body bag out of the house and-" the pressure in my throat came on suddenly, and completely crushed any other words I meant to say. It was so sudden it even surprised me.

Quickly running a hand over my face, I tried to stem the growing onslaught of prickly tears by rubbing at them through the mask, but that only irritated them more. I cursed softly, thankful I was hiding under a blanket like a 3-year old, as I reached under the mask to wipe the tears away with a cracking scowl. Here I thought I was over it. I came to terms with it, I accepted his death, and I know it wasn't all my fault. It's been nearly 3 years since that day, so why was I still crying about it?

The pressure in my throat expanded to my chest, till it felt like an elephant was sitting on my lungs. Feelings, raw and untamed, ripped open old emotional scars, letting them bleed freely. The emotions were familiar in a qualming way, and I easily recognized them from the countless nights that came after seeing that body bag, in perfect height to Uncle Ben's figure. The dark hours of lying awake at night, reliving the moment of walking into the house and seeing a bloodstain on the entry carpet; sometimes, I still stepped over where it used to preside.

There was something finalizing about saying it out loud. As if saying the words made it too real, and permanent, like there was now no chance of Uncle Ben walking through the door, weary from work, but alive. Happy and breathing, like he should be.

Beside me, I heard Nova shift in his spot. "Webhead?" he said, benevolently. When I didn't answer he continued, almost tentatively, "Hey, you really don't need to go on. I get it, I really do. It was hard and you made choices you're not proud of, and I'm sorry I made you talk about it. Will you please come out of the blanket?"

I shook my head, as both an answer to his request and to turn-physical my growing frustration. I was going to finish the story, damn it! I couldn't leave them like this, with me crying like a baby! What kind of image did that leave me with? The story was meant to teach them a lesson, not demean myself.

"No," I sniffed defiantly, forcefully rubbing the rest of the tears. "I started and I'll finish." I inhaled, expanding my lungs to palliate the pressurized ache in my chest and lungs, but to be honest, it didn't help much. "It was my Uncle," I said. "He was shot. Some guy got in the house, probably looking for somewhere to hide and must've thought the house was empty. According to Aunt May, Uncle Ben heard something in the kitchen. He...he thought it was me, but when he went to look...the guy he... he just shot the gun and..." I hated the way the words strained and faltered.

"Later, I heard some of the officers talking. The guy who murdered Uncle Ben was cornered in some warehouse a few blocks away. I...I was so mad." The thawing block of emotions saturating my mind cracked as the rage came back to me, not just burning, but sweltering subcutaneously. I looked up, the jerky movement disrupting the balance of the blanket, allowing it to slip off. The team was still watching me, but any qualms I had with it burned to ash. My hands trembled and hardened, my voice shook in sync with my fist, "No, not mad. I was furious. I grabbed my costume and my web shooters and I followed the cops down to the warehouse. The entrance was guarded, so I had to go through the skylights. I didn't want anyone to know I was there, not the cops and definitely not that murderer. I found him hiding behind some crates. He didn't even know I was there until I threw the first punch, and after that, well..." It flashed across my mind, and I closed my eyes to relive it, "I just...hit him." I ended, simply. "Punch after punch after punch. I barely even let him get a word in; I didn't care about what he had to say. But I remember him crying, and when I backed off enough to let him breathe, he was begging me to stop. But I didn't want to. I didn't care about him or his life, or what I was doing, I..." I looked up at the team, taking in their mixed expressions of opened-mouthed dismay and taken-aback shock, because I, Spider-Man, the hero who preached of the value of life, had wanted to murder someone in cold blood with nary a thought to it. So I validated what was going on through their heads. "I was going to kill him."

I looked right back at them through the film of the lens, willing enough to look them in the face to admit my crime, but subconsciously thankful for the shield my mask still offered. "I almost did it too. I was so close. I just," my hands cupped together as if curled around an imaginary neck. For a minute, I could almost feel the beat of a stuttering, phantom pulse under my fingers. "And I was just squeezing. I didn't want to stop, and I just..." my words came out dark, almost in a feral growl, "I wanted to see him die."

The dorm was as silent as a morgue as my cupped hands hovered shakily in the air for a few more seconds, before falling into my lap. As if it was a butterfly reaction, my shoulders slumped with them, head hanging. In that moment, my whole body seemed to suspire in emotional-debilitation, as if it just couldn't handle the raw emotion anymore. I rubbed my nose wearily with one hand.

Squirrel Girl looked up from where she was hugging her knees to her chest, eyes wide and breaths soft. "What did you do then?" she asked, hushed in a whisper.

My back fell against Nova's bunk. "I...I let him go."

Scarlet Spider stood abruptly from his spot on the wall. His whole body was tensed and rigid, and when he turned to me with his arms crossed, he radiated a hurt, almost defensive aura, as if it was him I had mercilessly beat.

"Why would you do that?" he demanded, words strained with accusatory disbelief. But beneath all of his aggression, for a minute, I thought I picked up a hint of something desperate. "That guy took your Uncle. He put Aunt May in danger, he made her a widow. How - why would you forgive him like that?" He sounded physically pained.

I stared at Scarlet. "Forgive him?" I repeated. "I never forgave him, Scarlet. I'll never forgive him for what he did."

"But you let him go?" Scarlet accused. His arms were uncrossed and stiff by his sides but on the verge of lashing out. I wondered what he was going on through his mind to cause him this much stress. For a second my thoughts turned to what he's told me before, about how he was abandoned by someone he cared about, a friend. But I brushed the thoughts away, for now. With how rigid his posture was, I wouldn't doubt that he'd threaten to slash me if I brought it up.

But I did look him in the face, unwilling to waver no matter how much I wanted to look away. "I let him go cause...cause I saw his face."

Scarlet's head shifted, taken aback. But before he could get a chance to question me, I continued, "Light from the cop cars came in through the window. I saw the guys face for the first time and I realized..." I swallowed hard, sifting past the stone in my neck. " It was the guy who stole from that money from the manager...the same guy I let get away."

The air in the room stopped as if the very universe sucked in a breath. Shock crackled in the room with the energy of a lightning storm. Eyes widened quizzically, mouths opened into flat 'o's' as jaws dropped. My words hung suspended in the air, expanding and filling up the room like a dark cloud.

"Wait, if that was the guy then," Powerman brows furrowed. "then he..."

"Yeah," it came out strangled. "If I had stopped the guy, then Uncle Ben would still be alive. He would never have died, and my Aunt wouldn't have become a widow...I...I admit it wasn't all my fault, but...but I'm wasn't innocent in it either. I could've spared Aunt May the pain of losing Uncle Ben, but because of my own stupid ego she lost her husband."

Tentatively, White Tiger asked, "And what about you?"

I looked at her. "Me? I guess...I guess I lost my dad again." The tears had returned to blur my vision, and I could already feel my nose getting runny. By me, Sam was staring helplessly at the floor. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Turning, he faced me with a new expression.

"I...I had no idea, Spidey," he reached out a hand to touch my shoulder, a comforting gesture I was sure, but centimeters before it could make contact, I jerked away and jumped to my feet.

"So, yeah, there's my story," I finished, forcing on a jovial tone, even as I sniffed and rubbed my eyes again. "See, not perfect. I make mistakes. Horrible mistakes. But it's just about learning from them and all that." I chuckled, but it sounded plastic, even to me. "An-anyway, I - I think I'm going to go check on Connors. The lights haven't turned back on and its definitely been longer than 15 minutes. So...I-'m just gonna make sure that generator problem isn't a big problem..." I stood stuck on the floor for a few tantalizing seconds, before I pried them away and hurried out of the room, eyes itching and irritated. I could feel their eyes boring into my back as I left, but was thankful none of them tried to stop me. I was one conversation away from breaking down and bawling in front of all of them, which was the absolute last thing I needed right now.

Relief was all I felt when the doors closed behind me.

_LINE BREAK_

I didn't go check on Dr. Connors or the generator problem. Whatever was wrong, I was sure it would be handled fine. S.H.I.E.L.D was full of professionals, afterall. So, instead, I did the last thing I thought I would do tonight.

I went outside.

It was still snowing and the building was slippery, but I didn't let that deter me. I crouched low in a corner on the ledge, hunched in on myself to preserve whatever warmth my body could cook up. Sadly, the chilly wind had upgraded from the equivalence of a soggy blanket to a frozen towel copiously covered in ice, which was now draped over my shoulder and seeping in deep to my very core. Shudders and goosebumps grew across my body like an angry rash.

But, after a while, I began to welcome the numb feeling that came with it. Time had ticked on precariously since "story time" back in the dorms, I estimated it had been an odd 15-20 minutes since I secluded myself to the outside. Since then, my body had been quick to lose all feeling, leaving my limbs feeling thick and swollen. Now, to wait and see if it would spread to my insides too.

Recounting that story had kicked up one heck of a hornet's nest inside me. Which was unnerving, as I thought I had come to terms with it, just before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. But, then again, I supposed I had done it silently, and with just myself. I've never actually said what happened out loud, not to anyone. Admitting it with words was different than doing it mentally, saying it out loud made it seem more authentic. Which was ridiculous because Uncle Ben had died years ago, and I thought the pain was supposed to ebb. Apparently, I have been misinformed, because it still left a very big, very raw, gaping hole in my chest and suddenly breathing wasn't coming so easy.

Snow was gathering quickly on my body, frosting my shoulders and head with white powder. But I managed to ignore it by staring out in the horizon where New York was glowing in a high rotunda under the clouds, brilliant and bright through the snow. Suddenly, I was feeling homesick for New York. Or, more specifically, the buildings. Web-swinging was always my go-to solution when I needed to sort out emotional ordeals. It had become something of a therapeutic process whenever life got too stressful and weird.

But, I suppose sulking on a ledge was my only option under the given circumstances.

But ice was crusting on my mask, thanks to those stupid tears from earlier, and now there was a highly likely chance I wouldn't be able to take it off when I go back inside. But, I also argued, that was a Future Spider-Man problem.

Well, that's a good way to solve our problems, Devil Spidey commented as he appeared in the mound of snow piling on my left shoulder. The figment of my imagination shook the snow away, using the flickering flame above his head to melt it into a puddle, all the while grumbling, Oh yeah, just forget about all the irritating conundrums piling on our shoulders and leave them for later. That's great. Wonderful.

From the other shoulder, Angel Spidey popped in from the snow as well. I know we kind of got ourself in an emotional pickle here, but you did the right thing telling them about our past. Besides, it was bound to come up sooner or later. He soothed.

Why can't it ever be later? Devil Spidey huffed. All it ever does is give us unwarranted stress and emotional baggage. Why can't we just go a week without drowning in our own angst? Is that too much to ask?

Angel Spidey shrugged. Problems should be dealt with right away. Putting them off only makes them worse.

But that doesn't mean we have to deal with every. Single. Problem. Sometimes we need to just put things off to have time to ourselves! Devil Spidey argued, waving his arms around erratically.

"Just...just stop it guys," I sighed, folding my arms tighter over my shoulder. "You're not helping anything." The two paused, before shooting one another a quick glare, then drifted closer.

We're only looking out for you, Angel Spidey said gently, patting my cheek softly.

Yeah, Devil Spidey agreed, surprisingly sincere as he leaned against my neck. I mean, someone's gotta make sure you know your options.

Angel Spidey nodded as he set to work wiping the snow off my head. It's good that you told them what happened. Not just them, but for yourself. It was bound to come up, from Aunt May, or Fury, or someone. At least next time you'll be prepared.

"Next time?" I groaned. "Isn't once enough?"

Whose not helping now, Devil Spidey snorted at his counterpart as he took the flame from the top of his head and began melting the snow off my shoulders.

Angel Spidey glared at him. Point is, now the team knows a bit more about their leader, and you're more emotionally prepared. That's good. Don't you feel lighter?

"Well..." now that he mentioned it, once I got past all the tears and raw emotion, I did feel a bit lighter. Like a weight I never knew was there had been lifted, if but a little. It was small but noticeable. "Yeah...I kind of do..."

Devil Spidey sighed, putting his flame back atop his head as he grudgingly muttered, I guess...maybe, telling them about our past was a little helpful. A little. He huffed in irritation at the smug look from Angel Spidey. Despite the situation, I smile.

"Easy there," I chuckled. "You almost sound like you care."

Devil Spidey grumbled unpleasantly, putting his flame back above his head. No, I only care about you. But only because I'm a part of you. As far as I'm concerned everyone else can burn. You see, it's kind of our job to be here, whispering in your ear and all that, so don't start thinking that I actually care - cause I don't! I'm required to be here, so don't get any ideas.

OH, you DO care! Angel Spidey squealed, leaping over me to tackle his counterpart in a hug. I rolled my eyes as I watched them tumble in the snow. Devil Spidey was sputtering curses as he tried to wrench Angel Spidey's arms off of him.

Behind me, the window I had crept through slipped open and a figure's shadow went sprawling across the snow as blue light filtered out from the inside. My smile slipped away.

"Spider-Man?" Nova said. "Peter?"

Angel and Devil Spidey looked up from their death-hug. Gotta go, they said in synchronization and poofed away. I looked at the unblemished snow where they had been, shoulders sagging under the undisturbed powder on my shoulders, feeling almost lonely now that they were gone. For all their annoying arguments, Angel and Devil Spidey have always been pretty good company, which was actually weird given the fact that they were only figments of my over-active imagination. Sometimes, I've considered telling Fury about them, but then figured he already thought I was a looney-kid, so why add more fuel to that fire?

Nova pushed himself up through the window but stayed far enough away that it was comfortable. I hummed back at him, at least letting him know that I acknowledged him.

"I..." Nova started with a hesitant pause. "I'm sorry about what I said."

"Nova, you don't need to be-"

"No!" he interrupted. "Shut up and let me finish," My mouth clicked shut. "I do need to apologize. I was angry with myself and I took it out on you. You shouldn't have to talk about something you didn't want to just because I was being a jerk. So...I'm - I'm sorry, okay."

But wasn't that what I had done to Dagger and Cloak? I forced them into a corner to get them to tell us what was wrong, even when they didn't want to. How was it any different? Besides, I didn't have to tell Nova, or any of them the story. I had plenty of opportunities to back out, but I hadn't taken a single one. Nova had absolutely nothing to feel sorry for.

"Really Nova, it was no big deal."

"It was a big deal to me," Nova stressed. "I feel bad about it. Maybe you're used to the Bugle pointing out all your flaws, but we're teammates, and I shouldn't do that."

"But we do it to each other," I argued. "How many times have I done it to you? Really, it's okay. I didn't have to tell you guys, I wanted to."

Nova made a frustrated noise. "Can you please just say you forgive me? If not for your sake, than mine!"

I looked down at the snowing piling on my feet, wiggling my toes deftly, "I will - I do forgive you." I said, and Nova sighed with relief, but stilled when I added, "But can I admit something?"

"Um... yeah, yeah sure."

It was now or never to come clean.

"Back in the computer labs, when we were doing those tests, the one you let me do was the same fight I had with Molten Man months ago. So, I already knew how to beat him." I burst out.

Silence.

"...Oh, I knew it!" he exclaimed, so exasperated that I burst into a laugh. "You jerk, why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demanded, but was smiling too, holding back a laugh, so I knew he wasn't too upset. Our laughter trailed off soon enough and hissing winds filled the silence.

After a second or so of watching the Nova Force illuminate the snow into dozens of little, blue fluffy cotton balls, Nova spoke up beside me, "Hey, has Connors told you why the lights haven't come on yet?"

"Uh, no. I haven't heard anything from him." I said, glancing over the dark windows of the Triskelion. Hmmm, it's been a very long time since I've heard anything, in fact. "Maybe we should go check up on that,"

"Good idea,"

We shuffled carefully back over to the window. My joints felt thick and lodged with ice from sitting out here for so long, and grimaced unpleasantly as the ice frosting on my costume cracked. But before I could even make it out the window, footsteps were echoing off the walls as an agent came running up to us.

She was red-faced and out of breath, eyes dark with irritation as they landed on my shivering form. "There you are!" she instantly glowered, "I've been looking for you all over the Triskelion." but she straightened up, turning back into the hardened agent she was taught to be. "I came to inform you that Dr. Connor's hasn't returned from checking on the solar-generators from outside."

I froze. "Come again?"

"Dr. Connors went topside of the Triskelion to check on the solar-generators, and neither he nor the team he took with him has returned," she repeated,

I looked back out at the snow. Why the heck did Connors go outside? Why didn't he tell me? It was freezing out there, I was an enhanced human and even I could barely stand it.

"Has anyone tried to get up through the topside hatch?" I asked, turning back to her.

She nodded, "I have, personally, but it's stuck tight."

I leaned back out, back into the snow, and looked up at the high wall of the Triskelion that stretched far up into the clouds. I looked back at Nova, who was already back inside. He met my eyes and nodded.

"I'll go get the team," he said, and was off in an instant, flying fast through the halls and out of sight behind a bend.

"I'll head up to topside," I told the agent, shuffling farther out by the wall. "Just in case bad-gets-t0-worse, have the Med-bay prepped for any emergencies."

Her eyes widened as I clung myself to the wall, and took an objective step forward, "Whoa, whoa, wait. You can't go out there in just," she gestured to my sodden suit, "that! You can't possibly think you can actually get to the top with that on in this weather." I stared up at the dauntingly far stretch of ice-covered wall that lead to the top, then at the puddle of water I had dripped on the floor.

"Well, I'm definitely thinking it," I muttered heavily, "But, for the record, I'm not saying it's smart." I stepped off the ledge. "Remember to get the Med-bay prepped, oh - and thanks for informing me," with that, I planted the tips of my fingers on the wall and began to climb, deaf to the protests hollored after me.

I moved fast, one hand in front of the other, ignoring the wind as it pulled insistently on my body. It was louder now, screaming in my ears as if riled up to protest against my actions. I didn't get very far before my fingers caught on a patch of ice, and suddenly I was careening sideways. My feet followed on their own unexpected slip, and for a second, I was dangling off the wall by one hand and staring down at the swirling masses of snow and clouds that hid the impending bottom miles down. My heart puttered frantically and I quickly pulled myself back up, fusing whatever part of my body that could touch the building to the chilled wall. In my head, my spider-sense was at a slow, sluggish buzz, dazed and tottering around in my head like a drunken sot.

It was rare that heights bothered me, years of being Spider-Man has ensured that. But, staring down at what would no doubt be a fatal fall, my stomach squirmed with unease. Not that I could really blame myself, I mean, as of now, my spider-sense was about as helpful as an ignamorous drunk, my body was rapidly losing all feeling to the point I probably couldn't even detect another patch of ice if I came across one, and I couldn't even tell how much farther I needed to get to the top thanks to the plenteous clouds suffocating the Triskelion. So, yeah, I was definitely feeling the frost-bitten squirm of worms in my stomach as I hugged the side of the building with all my strength.

"Come on," I whispered harshly, "Come on, come on, come on, come on, Connors needs you. Connors needs you. No time to get scared. Come on," I exhaled, watching my breath condense into mist and get snagged off by the wind. With another quick breath, I pulled myself up, wincing as frozen muscles pulled, and continued my trek. As I ate up the inches, a keened wailing suddenly reached my ears that was definitely in a different pitch to the wind. I paused and listened, but it was already gone. Cautiously, I took a few more steps before it reached my ears again.

Whatever it was, it didn't sit right with my stomach.

The rest of the journey up there's must not have taken very long, but it felt like ages. With every piece of ice I slid on, and gust of wind that knocked my breath away, my heart increased it's jackhammering till it felt ready to explode in my chest. But I refused to stop, not when it was Connor's who needed help, not with people depending on me. When I finally pulled myself up onto the top, I thrill of warm victory heated my chest. But that instantly turned to icicles when I saw a group snow covered lumps in S.H.I.E.L.D gear sprawled under the little protection of the generators guarding the top.

Shooting to my feet, I raced across the ground and came to a stop by the first one. As soon as I stopped on my knees, their helmet turned up toward me. "Spider-Man?" A weak, but relieved, voice whispered.

"Yep, it's me," I said. "In the flesh." I looked at him, up to the decent-sized generators that were growing heavier and heavier under the growing mounds of snow. Off to the side, I noticed a particular generator near the ledge lying on its side. The based was bent and crumpled like an aluminum can, with a heavy supporting beam the ground where the topside hatch was definitely supposed to be. I looked back down at the agent. "What happened here? Where's Dr. Connors."

"I didn't realize the base was unstable," I voice said nearby, one I instantly recognized. Dr. Connor's was propped up under the generator opposite to us, hugging his knees to his chest with one arm. He was wearing the S.H.I.E.L.D issued snow coat, but I could still make out shivering beneath all those layers.

"Doc, what happened up here?" I demanded, changing position to crouch next to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming out here? What were you thinking?"

Through his excessive shivering, he managed a small smile. "I guess I wasn't, was I,"

I held out a hand to...to what? What was I supposed to do? All the agents were under the generators, huddling for warmth, but otherwise unharmed. If they could just wait a few more minutes, then the rest of the team could get here and Cloak could teleport them to the Med-Bay where they would be warmed back up.

"Why didn't you call anyone on your comm?" I asked instead.

Connors glanced at his wrist with a grimace and moved it to my view. The communicator was broken in places, and filled with water and ice in others; the skin around it was red from the cold. "Broke it," he said. "Didn't take it off because I'm pretty sure the tracker is still worked, and I didn't want to lose it."

I sighed, rubbing my face with unfeeling fingers. "Kay, well the rest of the team will be here soon. But maybe if we just-" before I could say 'huddle for warmth', a high keening sound shot through the snow. I jumped to my feet, eyes landing on the fallen generator.

"Connors?..."

"The generator is unstable," Connors said. "I was checking on it when it fell - bad timing on my part I guess. I barely managed to get out of the way, but it trapped me and my agents up here. Unfortunately, it's still unstable. Half of it is already hanging off topside, we tried to pack snow at its base to enforce it, but that's all we could do with our resources. But with all this snow and wind," he craned his neck to look at the clouds, " I doubt it can stay up for much longer."

I walked past Connors, cautiously stepping closer to the machine, worried that my kitten-steps would disturb the snow and send it tumbling over. I leaned over, catching sight of the teetering structure on the edge. As if to hold my attention, the structure groaned again as the metal plating keeping it up cried under the pressure. Carefully, I walked back to Connors and knelt next to him.

"Okay, it'll be fine. I'll have Powerman, Nova, and the Web Warriors help me pull it back up as soon as they get here, which -" I squinted out past the snow, "what is taking them so long?"

Connors shivered violently, though it might've been a shrug. "The staff might not let them leave without gearing up for the cold. I'm surprised they let you out here with only your suit on."

"Heh, yeah," I said, sitting down next to him against the generators base, wrapping myself in a hug. "Lucky me." I huddled next to Connor's, working to preserve my own warmth until the reinforcements came. The snow was coming down thicker than ever, to the point that even the hazy glow of New York was beginning to fade. I was also dully aware that any feeling in my limbs had officially gone, and I was really hoping that somehow I was immune to hypothermia. It was a far stretch on my abilities, but maybe if I was tenacious enough...

A long, high creaking snapped me from my musing. A gasp froze in the air, but I barely had time to jump to my feet before the broken generator completely snapped from the metal plating and began to topple over the edge. I thought of the landing pad, and facilities, and hangars all down below - most still housing working agents - and how they were all about to be crushed under several tons of metal. I dived for the generator, instantly shooting a web that barely managed to snag on the corner before it completely fell. I didn't get a moment to celebrate, however, as my arm jerked forward and I was propelled to the edge of the Triskelion along with it. Just before I was pulled down, I slammed my hand into the hard, frozen metal, wincing with the impact, but thankful for my numb body as my hand smashed through the snow and hit a dent in the roofing, giving me just enough leverage for a handhold.

For a few long seconds, I lay there, feet inches from the edge with one hand curled tight into the metal roof and web-line taut in the other. I didn't realize I wasn't breathing until I noticed my lungs were burning from the exertion and took a slow, careful breath. The metal groaned angrily from where it dangled, but I refused to let it go. Not with how much damage it would cause and the agents it would kill. I couldn't allow it. I wouldn't allow it.

But my webs had other thoughts. The line in my hand jerked and suddenly I was being pulled further down as strands of webbing began to snap free.

I cursed. Then cursed again as more strands tore, and dug my fingers further into the metal, going as far as fusing my skin to it. I couldn't allow it to fall. I couldn't!

Through the snow mucking my lenses, I looked left and right for any sort of leverage. Connors came hobbling to my side, careful not to disturb my hold in the metal, as he too looked for something that would help.

"Okay, just hang on," he said, then winced. "Er, sorry, I didn't-"

"Puns in crisis," I strained. "I'm rubbing off on you."

Connors looked around desperately before his eyes landed on my wrist. "Your web-shooters," he said, kneeling next to me. "Let me see them, maybe I can make a net or something."

I nodded, and he gingerly felt my wrist for the webshooter, scrupulous to avoid disturbing my grip in the metal. He managed to snag it without trouble, and ran carefully to the edge, leaning over the side with the shooter now poised on his own wrist.

"There's not enough structure to make a net," he announced. "I'm going to try and reinforce the generator to the topside, hold it steady,"

I wanted to argue that there was hardly anything I could do to keep it steady but found my tongue heavy in my mouth with hardly the power to conjure letters. But Connors simply took my silence as agreement and aimed over the ledge. I braced myself for the impact that would follow, praying for him to hurry because I could already feel the webline straining close to its limits.

I heard the thwip of the web and felt a small jolt as it stuck to the generator. Connor's pulled on the line while trying fruitlessly to swipe the snow off the roof with his nubbed arm for a place to hook the web. But before he could find any purchase, I felt a snap tremble from the web and within an instant, the tension in my hand was gone and I fell back in the snow. Grunting, I scrambled back up with just enough time to watch Connor's eyes widen as he was pulled over the edge.

"CONNORS!"

Gasps from the agents and loud shouting started up behind me, but I couldn't hear them. My eyes were glued to the spot he had been in, still disturbed from where had been kneeling. The wind whistled in my ears and the hammering of my heart stopped, frozen solid in my chest, only cracking as the first sliver of horrified disbelief fractured its core.

C-Connors was...gone. He fell. He - he's...no. No! He can't be! Connor's can't be gone, he can't...

He's...

He's...

He's staring at me?

I watched, stunned, as Connor's slowly rose from over the edge of the Triskelion, a second later, the Iron Spider appeared with him.

"Drop something?" Amadeus asked.

My knees almost buckled with relief. "Oh, my - Connors! Connor's, are you alright?"

Amadeus gently settled the doctor back on his feet, holding him steady when he stumbled on shocked legs. "I-I'm fine, I'm go-good." Connors stuttered, eyes wide as saucers. "That...that was the single most horrifying thing..."

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. T-the line broke. I should've caught you - but it happened so fast - I couldn't - but then Iron Spider - oh my gosh, thank goodness you're alive!" I surged forward, wrapping him in a hug. Connors stumbled a little, 'oomphing' as he retook his bearings.

"Oh, well I - I'm fine. All good," he assured, patting my head. "Thank goodness the team got here when they did, huh." as if it were planned, a flash a light appeared nearby and half a dozen people stepped out of the dark confines of Cloaks' cloak, wrapped and snugged tight in winter-coats and thermals.

"Sorry that took so long," White Tiger shouted over the wind, rushing across the covered roof to meet us. "The staff wouldn't let us out without, well," she lifted her arms to show off the coat, "these. What happened out here?"

"Generator fell, landed on the hatch, agents had nowhere to go," I answered, withholding my sudden desire to lung forward and wrap her, all of them, in a big hug because oh my gosh, Connor's almost died, and they got here right in time - oh I love them all so much! Somewhere below, a string of loud curses sputtered through the thick snow, and a moment later Scarlet Spider, Agent Venom, and Nova appeared, heaving and hefting the generator slowly back up on the roof. As soon as it was past the ledge, they settled it down soundlessly in the snow with a grunt.

"I was gone for five minutes, Spidey," Nova gasped, catching his breath as he leaned against the generator. "Five minutes."

"Bullcrap, that was more than five minutes," I refutted, but could hardly put any heat on it. How could I when my entire body had become foreign to the concept? Besides, I was just happy they got here when they did. I hugged my arms around my shoulders and stepped toward the frozen agents stumbling to their feet. "Come on, let's get these people inside."

A hand landed on my shoulder. "We'll get them inside Spidey, you get to the Med-Bay and get warm," I met Dagger eyes; they held no argument. But I can't say I was about to argue. They were a good team, and I trusted them to get things done. All of them.

"Fine," I said, shoulders sagging with relief. "Just remember to stabilize the generator so it doesn't fall again." she nodded and instantly headed over with the rest of the group to either help an agent, or dig deep trenches in the snow to keep the generator up.

"C'mon Punk," Scarlet Spider said, as cheerful as ever, as he steered me over to Cloak. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't freeze your ass off." Cloak nodded at me and swept us in his cloak, and after a second of cold darkness, we stumbled into the Med-Bay. Instantly, medics swarmed me. Suddenly, blankets were wrapping around my shoulders, and hands were leading me to a room, and voices were ordering the soggy spandex off. Scarlet snorted, almost amused, as I was helplessly pulled further into the Med Bay. Before I knew it, I was stripped of my Spider-Man suit and put in a dry, plastic - but warm - hospital gown.

The warm air in the room was like a broiling flame to my body, soon enough every inch of skin tingled raw as feeling began returning. But it was a sensation I welcomed.

My fingers, toes, nose, and ears were tinged blue, which, according to the worried medics, wasn't a good sign, but after I was swathed in a soft blanket and sipping warm tea, their antics settled and I was predicted a full recovery. According to the experts, if I had been out there any longer, frostbite would've no doubt happened. But, thankfully, I was getting any fingers chopped off today.

The rest of half-frozen agents, including Dr. Connors, followed me to the Med-Bay, each treated with the same hospitable care I was. A nurse replaced the drained cup in my hand with a fresh, steaming tea brew and settled me down with blankets and heating pads. For a few minutes, I sipped the tea wearily and watched the wonderful chaos of the Med-Bay ensue. Gradually, though, the cup grew heavy in my hand, and sleep probed insistently on my eyelids. I resisted as long as I could, hoping to stay awake long enough to congratulate the team for being so quick to answer the call for help - even if they were held back some with winter-wear - but my efforts were futile. Within minutes, I had settled the tea on the chair next to me, convinced I was only going to close my eyes for a second. But as soon as I curled up in the blanket, I knew I was gone.

_LINE BREAK_

I woke up to the sound of hushed whispering and pattering feet. I groaned, digging my face farther into the sunken pillow. "Go 'way," I mumbled into the case, too dazed to even wonder who was in my room.

"Well someone sure is Grinchy this morning,"

"Sam, M' tryin to sleep,"

"Which is weird," he replied, "I'd think you'd be the first one to wake up out of all of us,"

I groaned again, pulling myself up to look at him when I froze. This wasn't my room. This was not my blanket. And the plastic hospital gown I was still wearing was definitely not my pajamas. Startled, I took a moment to look around the room, taking in the bleach-white wall, linoleum floor, and crowd of teenagers bunched in front of the bed.

On a chair next to me, my Spider-Man costume was folded neatly and waiting, the lenses of my mask looking expectant and eager under the lights. Staring at the mask, my fingers barely grazed the bare skin of my face as I realize that all I had on was the hospital gown. Before I can freak out and lung for the mask - or the suit for that matter - the memories of last night popped into my head like a firecracker and I forced myself to relax. The storm, nearly getting frostbite - that explained the hospital room. And I showed the team my face, I told them my name - willingly - so I didn't have to worry about that. Which was okay. There was no danger here.

My thoughts turned back to last night's storm, and I lay back down in a huff.

"Some storm," I deadpanned.

Powerman, or Luke Cage, since his sunglasses were off, gave me a hearty grin. "You'd know, wouldn't you Webs?"

Ava, who was wearing her short and tank-top pajama's, stepped out from behind him. Since she was wearing her pajama's, that probably meant she was comfortable with the New Warriors and Web Warriors too. "Yeah," she scowled, "what was with being out in the snow last night? I thought you hated it."

"I do," I said. "I only went out there to help Dr. Connors."

"Oh really?" she planted her hands on her hips. "Well, according to Sam, he found you out freezing on a ledge before you went to help Connors."

I glared idily at Sam, who shrugged sheepishly. The rest of them looked at me expectantly.

"Okay, well...well, I just needed to clear my head was all." I insisted, arms folding over my chest. "Besides, I didn't stay out there that long,"

"You almost got frostbite," Amadeus deadpanned.

I cringed. "Oh...well...I didn't though, so..." I coughed into my fist. "So...uh...what are you all doing out here anyway?"

Miles blinked at me owlishly, as if I just told him to go groom his Goblins' horns. "You seriously don't know?" he gasped, affronted. "Dude, it's Christmas!"

It was my turn to blink. "Oh my gosh...oh my gosh, you're right!" I sat up, energy already buzzing back in my limbs. "Well, Merry Christmas guys! You guys wouldn't happen to know how deep the snow is, would you?"

Miles sighed, "Let's just say, I think New York as taking a snow day today," was all he said.

I mentally swore. That meant there was no going outside as-of this morning, which meant I'd have to wait to go see Aunt May. But that didn't technically mean I couldn't call her.

I reached for my phone which was beside my suit - thank goodness I hadn't brought it outside with me while I was moping - and found the speed-dial to her number. "Well, I need to call Aunt May," I told the team," I don't want her spending Christmas completely alone." and swung my legs over the bed.

A chorus of "Whoa, whoa"'s filled the room as every head averted.

"Uh, you might want to cover up first," Cloak said, staring at the ceiling. I glanced down, realizing I was in an open-back hospital gown, with nothing underneath. I quickly jerked the blanket back over me, flushing red.

"We-well get out your nasties!"

They shared a laugh and left the room. But before they were all gone, Dagger turned to say, "And, I just wanted to say, thank for telling us your story. And...and to be honest, I'm kind of glad you got us to tell our's." and with that, she left with a warm smile. When the door was securely shut - and I waited several seconds to make sure it was - I got out of the bed. I pressed the speed-dial to Aunt May's number. It picked up on the second ring.

"Hello? Peter?"

"Merry Christmas Aunt May!" I greeted brightly as I stripped out of the plastic gown and picked up the underwear left for me, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear. "Sorry I couldn't be there yesterday, or today. Weather kind of got in the way."

"Oh, Merry Christmas to you too. And, well, it wasn't all bad. Mary Jane did end up making it to the house and had to stay over because of the storm, so I'm not all alone. Don't worry. We're making wheat-cakes."

I paused my shimmying into my spandex-pants to whine, "Without me?"

"Well, unless you can make it back to the house within the hour, then yes."

I huffed, pulling the pants up and grabbing the shirt next. "Well, they don't call me the Ultimate Spider-Man for nothing, you know."

"Hold up now," her voice went low with warning. "Connors already called me about what happened yesterday. I want you to stay at the Triskelion till your feeling better. Got it?"

"Aunt May, I'm fine," I assured, rolling my eyes, though her concern still left warmth spreading in my chest. "I promise. Just got a little chilly is all,"

"Nope," she said, obviously not convinced, "not until I get an A-okay from Connors. I will not have my boy getting hypothermia."

I chuckled this time, pulling on my gloves. "Alright, alright. Can you at least save me a wheatcake? Please? In the spirit of Christmas?"

She hummed as if to think about it. "Fine, but you have to give me a Christmas kiss in return."

"As I've had to every year," I laughed. "But fine, deal."

After that, we chatted about a few other miscellaneous things before saying our good-byes. Dumping the phone into my boot as soon as it was pulled on with the rest of the costume, I peaked out of the room before stepping into the open-space of the Med-Bay, taking in the organized chaos of doctors, nurses, and agents. Connors was already waiting for me outside the door.

"Ah," he smiled. "The team told me you were up. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine," I repeated for the umpteenth time, " Just got cold, come on guys,"

"Oh, yeah, it's not like you almost got frostbite or anything," he retorted with a sardonic roll of his eyes. Dang, he's getting snarky.

I roll my eyes right along with him. "Says the guy who got trapped outside and fell off the side of the Triskelion," I shot back with a smirk. "I think I should be the one asking how you are doing."

"Oh, I'm fine," Connor said. "Just a little shaken. Anyway, I just came by to check on you."

"Thanks, I'm good. See," I patted my shoulder convincingly, "all fine."

"Good," he clapped me on the same shoulder. "Now, you should head down to the dorm rooms, the team is waiting for you."

I nodded and headed out of the Med Bay, but before I left Connors called after me, "Oh, and Spidey...thanks, for getting out there so quickly."

I smiled, "Anything for you Doc, I couldn't let you freeze and leave me in charge of the Triskelion. That'd be a catastrophe,"

"The worse," he grinned. "I mean, how would anything get done when you're wheeling around in Fury's chair all day?"

Oh, so that was still a thing. I winced, rubbing my neck, "So, uh, you're not going to tell Nick Fury about that, are you?"

Connors tilted his head in contemplation, "Oh...we'll see." with a final mischevious smirk, he turned his back and headed farther into the Med-Bay. I watched for a minute, wondering if I should be worried.

Nah. That's a tomorrow-Spidey problem.

Heart light and happy, I made my way out of the Med-Bay, greeting every agent with a smile and a "Merry Christmas" until I got to the dorms. As soon as the doors opened, however, I took a surprised step back.

The team was waiting in the dorms, just as Connor's said, mindlessly chatting in the center. But what drew my attention was the bunks hastily strung with small flashlights tied together as makeshift lights, and gun clips and small grenades as momentary ornaments. Before I would ask what military bunker replaced our beds, it hit me. The Secret Santa exchange we had a few weeks back - I almost forgot we planned on doing it today. Although, it was scheduled for tonight, but seeing how they were here with nowhere else to go, it made sense to do it now.

It was a good thing I had stashed my gift in my dorm closet before I went out patrolling yesterday.

I strolled over to the group, gesturing to the creatively-done decorations,"Looks awesome guys! 10 out of 10. Nick Fury would approve."

"Well, it's about time," Ava grinned, meeting me halfway across the floor. "We were almost ready to start without you," but the way she said it had me thinking otherwise.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologized, "There was this big storm yesterday that kind of set me back in my schedule, you wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?"

"Nope," she smirked, "Sorry, I don't accept excuses."

I played a hand over my heart. "Hey, I almost got frostbite you know,"

"Well, you were the one who went outside," Danny commented humorously.

"Well," I shrugged, "got me there. So," I clapped my hands together, "let's do this thing. Bring on the presents!"

The crowd momentarily dispersed to retrieve stashed presents. Some of the gifts were wrapped, but most were hastily covered in blankets and sheets since they all probably didn't have time to do some actual wrapping. Before I could retrieve the present I wrapped from in my closet, someone stepped beside me.

Ben stood there awkwardly, a blanket bundled in his arms. For a minute I thought he had gotten my name in the Secret Santa drawing until he instead hastily thrust the blanket into my arms.

"Connor's said to make sure you were covered up," he said.

I stared down at the blanket. "Aw, c'mon, I'm fine, enhanced healing factor and all that stuff. "

"Well, you're taking the blanket because I'm not taking it back," he snapped. I rolled my eyes, but smiled all the same and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, giving an exaggerated twirl to appease his mission.

"There, it's on," I said, then added, "Thanks, Ben."

He huffed, looking away. "Yeah, um...whatever, Punk," and stalked away. I watched him go, grin growing. Whatever it was that Ock did to leave Ben wound as tight as a cord, I was happy to see was those walls were breaking down. I almost dared to believe that Ben was finally opening up. He did seem to be getting closer. He didn't object to going on missions as often, and he was getting along with Miles and Amadeus really well. Although Flash was still adjusting to having him around, even though it's been months since Ben joined us.

Still smiling, I got my present from the closet. We all trickled back to the center of the room where Tiger and I organized everyone into a sloppy circle. The gift exchange was quick. I got the last comic book in my vintage collection from Powerman, who got tickets to whatever sports were happening next season from White Tiger. Tiger got a collection of new books to read from Sandman. Flint got a membership card to his favorite bowling place from Agent Venom. Cloak got Agent Venom a new football and basketball (after the latter was chewed up by Monkey Joe and company). Iron Fist got Cloak a rare artifact from Kun 'Lun, and received a new set of inscents from Triton. Triton got some much-appreciated bath bubbles and salts from Kazar. Kazar was got a knife collection from Dagger, Etc..

I gave my wrapped gift to Ben, the person I got for the drawing. Ben blinked, surprised, before taking it with almost delicate hands.

I beamed, "Merry Christmas, Ben!"

He stared at the bow adorning the top as if he had no idea what to do with it. "You - you actually got me a present?" he whispered as if he expected me not to.

I rolled his eyes. "Uh, duh. It's Christmas, Ben. Everyone gets a present!" He didn't look like he was entirely sure on that.

But then, almost timidly, he began to unwrap it. I bounced on the balls of my feet, gnawing on my lip. Inside, was a holiday knit sweater done in red and black with his spider insignis knitted in the center, beside it was a matching scarf.

Ben held it up in the light, squinting, "Gee, thanks."

I rubbed my neck shyly. "Y-yeah, it's actually from Aunt May and me. Flash, Amadeus, and Miles all get one too, but their's are at home, and I added a little something to the scarf."

Ben turned the cloth over to see a small charm dangling from the scarf tussles. It was a small Spider-Man figure painted over in red and black to match the Scarlet Spider suit.

"There were no Scarlet Spider figures yet." I admitted, "or else I would've used that instead - but don't worry, I'm sure they'll come into stock soon - but I, uh, just painted over one of the Spider-Man charm. I mean, I know I'm not the best painter, but it shouldn't wear off or chip if its not handled roughly. But, that's not to say you can't, like, do anything with, but I just- "

Ben interrupted my blabber with a strong, but sincere, "Thank you." He held the scarf and sweater in his hand, fingers lightly caressing the spider symbol. "I...I don't deserve this..."

I clapped him softly on the shoulder. "You do deserve it. And if you won't accept it as a Christmas present, then take it as a thank-you-gift." He looked at me. "It's a thank you for saving me the day Hydra took over. You could've stayed out of it, but you didn't. You saved my life. So thank you, Ben."

He swallowed thickly, and whispered, "Don't mention it, punk"

"And, it might not be of any consolation to you, but we WILL stop Doc Ock. I know he probably put you through some nasty stuff, but we'll catch him. He won't hurt anyone anymore. I promise."

Ben stared more intensely at the sweater, fingers tightening around the sleeve. "Thanks," he repeated, voice rough.

"Don't mention it," I grinned and added a sly. "punk." before I went off to join the others. My efforts earned me a light chuckle from Ben, which I definitely counted as a win. I left him to look over his gift and climbed into my bunk to read my new comic. As I settled in the blankets, I was suddenly aware of how much...lighter I felt. As if a hidden burden had been lifted. Maybe Angel Spidey had been right, and telling them really did help. I thought I was fine with Uncle Ben's death, and mentally, I guess I was. But, honestly, I don't think I'll ever really get over his death - but it's not something that will trouble me often.

I looked over at the rest of the team, who had spread around the room, laughing, chatting, and tinkering with the gifts they received. Well, all aside from Ben who sat on his bunk, softly touching the sweater in his lap, with the scarf already secured around his neck, the painted-over Spider-Man charm dangling freely from the tussles. I really hope he liked it. Aunt May and I had worked hard on making it, we even took turns knitting. I just wanted Ben to know that he had a family here.

They were all a family. And, now that most of us had shared our story, everything seemed a whole lot friendly. Smiles came more easily, there's was an authentic light in every eye, and laughter wasn't as strained or fake. It wasn't perfect, there was still a lot I didn't know about each of them specifically; names, favorite food, or origin stories, but it was something.

And it was nice, and I could tell they sensed it too.

Humming pleasantly, I opened the comic on his lap. But before I get distracted, I'd just like to say to all your lovely readers out there - yes, you, the one looking at the screen - while it may be a little creepy that you guys are watching me all the time, I just wanted to say...Merry Christmas! Love yourself, your family, your friends, and embrace mistakes. Bad things happen all the time, and it sucks, but there's always a chance to turn it around.

New year, new goals, new outlook - but same you.

And I love that.

Also, why do you guys enjoy watching me anyway? Kind of weird, don't ya think?

Just saying...

Alright Spidey, you're done. Down boy, the end credits are rolling.

Anyway, I am sorry this was late and didn't really get finished around the same time as Christma (almost took a whole month, holy crap!) Anyway, a lot of you have been wondering when I will be updating "Reticent Monsters", which I am pleased to say I will be working on an update for that as soon as this chapter is posted. Which it should be...if you're reading this...

Hi my future self who has probably posted this chapter already!

That's right, I just broke the fourth wall...in a way. BOOM!

Dudes, I got Writer's Block halfway through this chapter and literally wrote a 600 word long rambling of me arguing with Angel and Devil Spidey XD It helped...eventually. I got the chapter done anyway.

And I'm rambling now. Thank you everyone who has commented and supported this story! And I hope you are having a wonderful 2018 so far! I love you and all the love and support you guys send me whether its through reviews or messages! I don't think my fanwriter "career" would've lasted this long without you.

Love you all! 3

-OfficialUSMWriter signing off for 2017.