Prompt: Light.

"Is there a heaven?" Peter had once asked him after a rather tragic incident involving Peter's pet hamster and Flash Thompson's pet dog. Richard hadn't been certain how to answer at first, because while he himself didn't believe in any sort of heaven (the scientist in him, no doubt, demanding proof of existence and thorough research before making baseless assumptions), Mary certainly did, and if there was anything Richard was terrified of, it was an angry wife.

Peter had been five. What do you tell a five-year-old when he asks whether or not his pet will go to heaven? Richard had taken the coward's way out and told him to ask his mother. A grave mistake on his part, no doubt.

There had been a moment before entering the airport when Mary had asked him what he wanted in life. It was a question that came up all too often between them, one that Richard could sense coming a mile away by now. There had been talk of divorce. Not outright talk, really more of a murmur between kisses that grew less passionate with each passing night, or whispered into pillows as they faced opposite directions on the bed. "What do you want out of life?" He could have answered that he wanted her to stay - not a complete lie, even if he too could feel the passion fading. He could have told her that he wanted her to leave - again, not a complete lie, even when he so desperately needed her warmth on that pillow, needed her hand in his own.

Instead he simply answered, "I just want a little light in my future."

They're firmly strapped into their seats and Mary has her head rested against the thick airplane window, dozing off with a book lying open on her lap. Richard takes the book, marks her place, and places it in the bag down at her feet carefully so as not to wake her.

"Is there a heaven?"

Peter had wanted so badly to come with them, he remembers as the first lurch is felt. The lights flicker for a moment and the seat underneath him is vibrating. The pilot's voice sounds over the intercom. "Please fasten your seat belts, ladies and gentlemen. No need to be alarmed. Just some slight turbulence." Peter had wanted to come with them and Richard had told him no, had kissed him on the nose and told him to behave nicely for Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and that they'd be back for him before he could blink.

"Is there a heaven?"

The plane lurches again, and suddenly they're dropping from the sky, and Mary's jolted awake and is scrabbling for something. He wants to tell her that he put her book in her bag. Something tells him that doesn't quite matter now.

There's the sound of engines failing, a noise he won't forget in the future if he makes it out of this alive. Someone in the back is screaming and soon everyone else is screaming too, and the oxygen masks drop from overhead and he helps his wife strap hers on-

Something tumbles from her gripped fist. Her wedding ring. She must have taken it off earlier, and now it's rolling down the aisle and out of sight, and he wants to get angry, tear off the mask and ask what she was thinking, but- but...

"Is there a heaven?"

Richard breathes shallowly into the mask, and closes his eyes tight as he feels Mary's hand grip his own.

No, Peter. No, there's no heaven. But there is a light at the end of a very long tunnel, if you look hard enough for it.