Peter's conscious now. Conscious in his mind as he listens to medics work around him. It's been the same to day in and day out. He's concluded they must not be at a real facility if this was the limited amount of staff offered to care for him. They were moving about, the small clinking of dedicated equipment being the only distraction offered for Peter's restless mind (ironically being he's in a comma) as they shot a concoction of potions and mysteries into his IV and arms he wouldn't be yet to know what they are. He probably wouldn't remember tomorrow anyway what any of this was. Everything that happened while in this state slipped away like water on duck feathers. He could only sometimes understand and remember small bits here and there. It took him liner each day to remember who's voice belonged to who while they entered his room and spoke softly to him or someone else. He couldn't even remember why he was here. Should he be worried? He didn't know, he didn't even know why he couldn't move or see, only that he hated it and wanted to escape his prison. That thought never dulled for was allowed to be forgotten. He knew there was something wrong ugh the idea of himself being motionless by he couldn't exactly place why, only that he needed out. He didn't get to dwell on that fact for long. Or at all. It was only moments before the common unexpected darkness consumed his mind and senses.

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"-You Peter." Someone whispers quietly.

The arachnids mind slurs the words he is hearing, unable to make out the speaker as he wakes once again days later. As far as he knew or care it could have been hours since he was last aware of his surroundings. Though... something felt different today. Something he wasn't quite sure how to understand.

"I wish you were here. Peter it's been so long. Why haven't you come back? Why can't I see you again. Not just your face, but the soul behind your eyes? I miss your eyes. Your big Hazel doe eyes. The way you can look at the world with such scientific and naive curiosity. Your so innocent no matter how you think of yourself. Peter you're not bad, or evil. You're not dark, wrong or a filthy person just because of what you've done in the past. You've tried to stop, and you did but you hurt yourself trying to save others in a way that isn't fair. This is suffering like nothing else anyone in the world is worth. Just please come back. Peter, they're going to give up on you soon. They think you're a lost cause and we don't have someone here to tell them that you're awake inside of you're mind anymore. Tony can't keep you alive forever here with such limited resources Peter. You're stronger then this, you have to wake up." The person says.

'No...' Peter thinks quietly. 'No they're crying. Crying because of him? For him?'

Peter takes a long time to digest those words as he listens to the persons heart beat. Wade's heartbeat. Longing flares through the young man's chest as he realizes the loneliness shared between him and the chances and desperate measures being taken for his sake.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I'm doing to you Wade. I want to be there for you. I wish I could hold you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. That it's just a bump on the long but far to short road of life and that we'll get through it." Peter thinks desperately, wishing he could speak. Wishing he could move it respond in anyway. The image of the Dream he had had a while before. Of Wade letting him go floods through his mind. 'I promise Wade I'll be there for you. I won't let you be alone, I won't let the boxes torment you anymore! Wade I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Just wait a little longer, I'll come for you, I'll show you I won't leave you. Wade I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what I did to you. For making you live like this when I promised to protect you from yourself and only kicked you when you were down and then weighted you to drown with my own weight. You were right and I'm sorry! I don't care if that was real or not, it doesn't matter if you've started looking else where for someone. I'll understand. I'm sorry Wade. I'm sorry.'

"I love you." Wade says quietly.

Peter tries to move. To say something back, to respond in any way.

His hand twitches before he is once again pulled into unconscious, leaving Wade hopeful for Peter to respond again, that maybe his Baby boy was actually maybe going to come back.

....He brutally punished himself for thinking that something only in fairy tales could happen for him as hours passed and his boy didn't move again. Not even the spider's heart rate changing within those legs long, pointlessly hopeful hours. Peter wasn't there to respond to him.

... but that didn't mean the arachnids healing factor wasn't preparing for something.