"IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. I-I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!"

I glanced up from my cross-legged position on the floor, a small frown tickling my lips as his words were leaving me filled with both anxiety and fear towards the boy. "Look, I'm sure that it was just a one-time thing - they were just frightened seeing you or something, so they ran. Anyone would, you're Spiderman, after all."

"No, it wasn't that," he interjected, still not looking my way. He had been like that since heading back to his apartment, and it was as though he wasn't truly talking to me in a conversational way, just trying to say everything before he went insane from curiosity. "This was different; they were watching me, Em. When they saw me, it wasn't that they were scared of me, it was that they were scared of me knowing who they were. Does that make any sense?"

"But how would you know that? You said there was a mask covering their face."

He sighed and sunk into his best, running his hands over his face and still not returning my sceptical gaze. "They were, yeah, but it was obvious - and I mean, the way they fought, too - it was like they weren't actually trying to kill me or anything, but I don't know why. If they wanted to hurt me, why did they run? If they wanted a fight, why did they act so...timid?"

I shrugged and looked back down at the pages sprawled across my lap. We had been having this argument for an hour now, with Peter babbling on and on about this mysterious figure who had attacked him and ran off, and me trying to think of the best way to get his mind off of this discussion. It didn't seem like a big deal to me, but for some reason, this had resonated with the boy and he couldn't stop talking about it. Which, unfortunately, meant I was stuck in the uncomfortable situation of listening to the boy talking all about how I had beat him up and hope that he wouldn't figure out that it was me. I never believed I'd be in such a strange position in my life - but, then again, this entire mission was a series of strange and, usually, unfortunate events, and one I hated having to discuss for so long and so soon after.

"The voice, it was so...I dunno, familiar? I know I heard it somewhere, I just couldn't figure out where."

My eyebrow raised at his words, and a teasing note flowed into my voice. "Hmm, your dreams? Is this your fantasy dream girl; beats you up and serves dessert an hour later?"

Immediately, his face went bright red and he chucked a pillow at my head, laughing through his humiliation. "What - no! That doesn't even make sense - no! Why would you think about this like that?"

"I dunno, just the way you talk about it seems like you've got a crush on your mystery friend. That, and you're obviously into some pretty weird stuff if you know what I mean...?"

Peter scowled and turned away from me, turning his tomato-esque face from view. "You're in a good mood today, aren't you?"

"Hmm, maybe - perhaps I just like being called out of nowhere and getting the chance to mock you." I tossed the pillow back at his turned figure, continuing the friendly taunt - with luck, I could mock his way out of his crazy delusions if I was careful enough. "Why are you so upset at this? It was probably just...I dunno, but it's probably not a big deal. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking about it!"

He sighed. "I know, I know, it's just...what if there is someone else out there? Someone like me? I could have someone who understood what I was going through, someone who could actually get and help me! I mean, I've been so alone in this, aside from Tony, but he's experienced and he's...Tony. What if this person was my age? I could finally have someone who understood and could actually help me."

My heart plummeted down to my stomach, and almost immediately, my smile warped into a messy frown, staining my cheeks with new anger and disappointment - mostly towards myself. However, I used that to manipulate the boy as well and gave a sad little frown that perfectly depicted what Emily should be feeling. "Yes, guess you've been pretty alone in this, haven't you?"

"Oh, shit, wait I mean-"

"It's okay, Peter," I mumbled, though it really wasn't okay, and I wasn't even sure the actual reason why. "I get it; I hope you have fun stopping crime with your new best friend. I'll make sure to stay out of it, okay? Good luck, don't die or anything - I mean, I'm sure your new partner in crime would help with that though - and have fun!"

Peter sighed and sank to the ground near me, hands fidgeting in his lap as he debated what to say. "I didn't mean I didn't appreciate your help - I do, I really do. I mean, I don't think I'd be alive if you hadn't come and helped me."

"Your new friend could have helped you."

He rolled his eyes at my petty remark but didn't lose his earnest sincerity, "Em, I swear I was just excited to know that there was someone like me out there. But you mean a lot more to me than whoever that was, guy, girl, or robot!"

"Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled, "so...thanks, for being there. I mean, most people would have just waved the webs in the air and told the world that I was Spiderman, but you didn't. You kept my secret and you didn't judge me for all the mistakes I made. Thanks for being so great, I guess."

I smiled and traced a design in the carpet, not meeting the boy's eyes. "Well, not like anyone would really believe me if I said you were Spiderman. And I still could say something."

"Yeah, but I don't think you would because you're just such a good person. You always are. Hell, you're like a superhero just without the, you know...superpowers part."

"I'm really not that great - please, shut up."

Peter, now a dull pink, just shrugged. "You are to me."

I didn't say anything after that; I didn't know how to say anything after that. The boy, once more, proved his sweet innocence and how trusting he was - albeit a little dumb - and how much he believed in me. Of course, if he knew just who had been in that black mask, and why I was here sitting cross-legged on his floor tracing designs in the carpet. Peter Parker believed in Emily Newman, and that was exactly what I had been trying to earn this entire mission; he trusted me, and I could finally begin doing what it was Inga needed me to do. I could be done with him soon.

Then, why did it hurt so much?

"Well, um...thanks." Looking back up, I forced myself to look happy, though I felt anything but. "I just want to help you, is all. Really."

An uncomfortable silence fell on us, with me staring at his floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, and him with his hands on a small object like always, fidgeting with it and only paying attention to that. I searched for topics, things to say, but came up with nothing; I could fake a lot of things, but small talk was not my forte, and I seriously doubted Peter would care to discuss the many ways to snap someone's neck or how to dispose of a body.

I finally glanced up and smiled, holding up the cue cards cluttered with our project's information. "Shall we go over this one more time? We're ready, yeah, but that-"

"-doyouwanttogetpizzawithmesometime?"

Any remnants of my forgotten sentence froze in my throat, and I stared at the boy, unsure what to say or do next. "Pardon?"

Peter, once again turning red, rubbed his neck and tried to force an awkward laugh. "I just...well, you said you hadn't ever had pizza, the good kind at least, and that you'd want to go - I mean to ask a lot earlier but then I just - never mind. Would you, um, like to do that sometime?"

"Uh," was the only sound that came out of my mouth, followed by the open and closing on my lips that probably made me resemble a fish. "Oh."

"You don't have t - I get it, it's weird, and I'm weird, and that would just be - weird, I guess? It's okay, we can just study and pretend like I didn't say that. I'm fine with that."

I forced my mouth to work, spitting out my words, in short, hoarse phrases. "It's okay. I'd like to. Go, I mean."

"You would?"

No. No, a million times no, I'd rather be anywhere but there - "yeah, I would. That sounds like so much...fun."

Peter's face brightened and he smiled, a real smile, lighting up his entire face. If I wasn't doing my best not to pass out, I'd think that was adorable, but as it were, I wanted to wipe it clean off his face. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. Cool. Cool."

"When?"

"Um...how about Saturday? Around one or so? Does that, um, work?"

"Sure," I nodded, words squeaking at the end. "I just...can I use the bathroom real quick?"

He nodded, and I practically sprinted out of his room, throwing the door shut behind me and promptly bursting into frantic, desperate but silent screams. The room seemed to close in around me, and my breath flew right out of my throat, leaving me gasping for oxygen or anything that would just get me through this moment. I wasn't sure what was happening to me, but I couldn't begin to comprehend it; all thoughts were on him, Peter Parker, and the fact that he just asked me to do that.

I ran my hands over my face and sank to the floor, resting the back of my head against the cool tiles adorning the walls. I shouldn't be freaking out; after all, this was what everyone needed. Once I got close enough like Inga wanted, she'd start her part of the plan - whatever that was - and I'd get the chance to go back to the Academy and be free of this all. I'd be able to forget all about Peter and his adorable puppy eyes and laugh and be recognised as a fighter, as a true assassin, as a Black Widow. 

That was what I wanted. Nothing else. I needed to convince myself of that fact; it needed to be the truth. It would be the truth - it had to be, else everything I had worked and tried for meant nothing due to my own stupidity. Peter Parker couldn't literally be the death of me; not then, not ever. I just needed to get a grip on myself and my emotions and accept the truth that would balance the equation out and give me what I wanted - what the world wanted.

Only, I wasn't even sure what I wanted anymore.

I wiped at my eyes and fixed my hair back into perfect position, rolling up my sleeves to scrub away at my hands. I would be fine; I needed to be fine; this would all be fine. Peter didn't think a single thing about me - or, at least, not Freya - and that would stay that way. I would do my work, extract him, and I could go home.

Dirty, pain-filled eyes met their reflection in the mirror, and despite myself, I smiled at how desolate and in pain I appeared to myself - how no one saw that in me, I couldn't even be sure.

"There you are," he smiled but quickly turned to a stare of shock and worry as he stared at me. As I closed the bedroom door once more, he moved closer and stared down at me. "E-what happened to you?"

"What?"

He didn't answer, instead, almost hesitantly reaching out and gripping my arm, which was littered with fading bruises - a move I winced at, though not just because it hurt. I had forgotten to pull back down my sweater, meaning all the wounds I bore were out in the open for him to stare at. They were faded, yes, but it didn't deny the fact that they were there.

"Where did you get these?" Peter mumbled, looking almost horrified at the scars. "Em...what is this?"

I almost couldn't breathe, I was so terrified of not saying the right thing or messing this up - one wrong phrase or movement, and this whole charade could collapse around my feet. "They're...it is okay, Peter, I...I do self-defence, classes?"

He stepped back a bit, frowning at me, seemingly processing my words. "What?"

"My mother and I do them - she thought it would be a good idea." The words were now tumbling freely from my lips, unfiltered and forced, leaving me with no control over whatever my mind was coming up with on the spot. "She said that it's good to defend ourselves, and I mean, she's right, right? I mean, New York isn't, you know...there are bad people everywhere, but...she just wanted to keep us safe."

"Really?"

I nodded, trying to force some emotion behind my empty movements, trying to convince him of the lies I was spitting. "Yeah, it's honestly really helpful - these were just from that. Trust me, it's nothing, really."

"Then..." he sighed, not looking at me. "Why do you cover them, if they're not bad?"

"Well - I wouldn't want someone to draw their own conclusions, I guess." I shrugged. "I mean, you did, right? I figured until those fade I'd just cover them up so no one judged me."

"And that's all this is?"

For a second, I almost debated telling him everything, right then and right there. I could, too; I could just tell him everything from the Red Room to my mission to Inga and the Lider and the strange man who injected something into my blood and made something better - he could know it all in a matter of seconds, minutes. I'd be free, and he'd know it all, and everything - maybe - could change.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "that's all that it is. Trust me, Spiderman, I'm not just...swinging around New York like you do or something, is that what you thought."

He smiled, though worry still shone deep in his eyes, and sank down onto his bed with a sigh. "I was just...I dunno. I just didn't want you getting hurt or something."

"Of course not. Not without my consent, of course."

They said the truth would set someone free. I supposed that was why I felt so awful about every little tale I spun; everything I was and had was chained to lies and deceit and built upon a relationship that had nothing real about it except for his blind trust and my breaking heart. Every time I looked at him, it got harder and harder to lie, and even harder to picture him lying still as stone on a cot while doctors with faces hidden behind bloody masks tinkered and turned him inside out. I had him dancing on the palm of my hand, and all it would take was a few more steps before I held his heart completely. I just wasn't sure if I could -

"Em?"

My eyes fluttered back upwards, staring at his serious ones. "Yeah-huh?"

"You just like, went to a whole new world there or something," he grinned, gesticulating madly with his hands as he spoke. "Whole other galaxy."

"Must be Star Wars taking an effect on me, I guess."

Or a certain boy in red blue, and a dazzling smile.

Wow, was that chapter a rollercoaster or what? As in, yes, I know that in those 3000 words, legit everything and anything possible was happening - sorry about that. Originally, this was going to be a part of the last chapter, as it's the continuation where she found Peter and they headed to the apartment - however, it was much too long, and I'd have to write in the awkward meeting between them, yada yada. Essentially, however, this is the important ish that you need. Peter and Emily are going on a date - though only one of them is thinking like that - and he is now even more suspicious, and she's feeling like a shitty person once more. Am I the world's most of awful of writers? Oui oui, cheri. Do I care, at this point? Non, non, monsieur. [what is that? who knows]. 

Thank you for reading!