OH wow. First chapter and I got 15 Faves and 22 Alerts, thank you so much! Enjoy, Chapter two of Promises Unkept. Sorry if it's a little slow -.- Read and Review- take two seconds please. Your reviews make me write faster!
When Gwen first saw him, she thought she was dreaming. Scratch that, this was no dream- just a nightmare. He hadn't shown up at the bleachers earlier, so for that she was a little disappointed, since she really wanted to spend more time with him. She figured he had a good reason though. After the bell rang, she had a free period and decided to go shopping with her friend Mikeala, whose mother owned a clothing store downtown. On the way, they visited the shop and helped Mikeala's mother with some chores, mopping, swiping, dusting, fixing. Inevitably, this sidetrack caused Gwen to be late for her fourth class, which she had noted started about twenty minutes ago. Mikeala dropped her off near the gates before she was forced to leave as she got a call from the local hospital- there had been an accident, and her mother, whom they had seen less than half an hour ago, was involved.
Gwen offered to go with her, but her friend told her she had a class to get to and that she would be fine, leaving Gwen worried for her friend about a twenty-five minute walk from school. Gwen did a double take as she bumped into Peter. Her eyes became wide and her jaw dropped open.
"Gwen" Peter spoke, tiredly, as if he hadn't slept in days. She took sight of the deep bruises beneath his eyes and noted he probably hadn't. She didn't try to hide her shock as he stumble and almost fell- before she caught him. He hissed in pain as she held onto his shoulder to keep him upright.
"Peter what happened? Are you okay? Peter!" She yelled feverishly. Oh god, she noticed the dark bruise on his cheek. Her deep blue orbs trailed down as she caught sight of more dark, purple bruises hiding under his collar, in the shapes of hands.
He coughed as she steadied him, taking on most of his weight. His breath was raspy and he just looked perplexed, and guilty. Yes, there was a deep, unnerving look of guilt in his once innocent chocolate orbs. She recognised that look of self-loathing, that look she wished she never had to see on his handsome features ever again. It was the one he got when he blamed himself for someone's death. The look that had clouded his eyes when they spoke of her father, the look which now overrode his tired eyes.
"Gwen... I killed him... I killed Mr. Wells." He spoke softly, in a voice that was so haunted and exhausted. The first emotion that took over Gwen was fear. Fear of what happened to her boyfriend whom she loved so much. Fear for the danger he was in. Fear for the guilt that laced itself within his very core.
Mr. Wells, she thought. Was he... one of them? One of those villains who wanted Spiderman dead so much they cornered the teenager and vowed for his crimson blood to satisfy their lust? Gwen shivered before pulling looking back at Peter.
He didn't meet her eyes. He was looking at the concrete path with something mixed in with the guilt and self-hate. He thought she would despise him.
"Oh god Peter, what happened?" she eyed his wounds, then with a sharp gasp noticed scarlet blood trickled down his knuckles. She didn't wait for an answer, "Can you walk?" She asked softly. She felt him nod against her cheek as he slumped forward. "My house is just a block away Peter, okay?" She tried smiling at him, to hide her fear.
He didn't say anything at first. After the first few steps he stumbled, but she kept him steady. She wanted to know so bad what the hell happened to him, why his maths teacher was dead, and why he was convinced he killed him. She wanted to know why he was bleeding, bruised and battered. Why the love of her life looked like he could collapse at any given moment.
But she didn't. They were almost their now, just a few metres from her door. She didn't question him, because she had to help him, heal him. She wanted to call an ambulance so bad, because they could treat him expertly, better than she ever could, but didn't. Because knowing Peter he had his Spiderman suit underneath his clothes.
"Hey, just hang on there, Pete. We're almost there." She helped him up the stairs and forced herself to choke back a sob when she saw the odd colouring and positioning of his wrists and fingers. The blood that ran down his left arm now flowed past his knuckles in rivers and dripped onto her porch. Without letting go of him she dug into her pocket for her keys with her free hand. Eventually she managed to fish them out and unlocked the door.
She knew that if he wasn't about to collapse, he would have protested against letting her treat him in her own home. It had happened before, plenty of times. Her room was upstairs, which was far too far for him to walk. So she helped him through the main corridor as she limped, and led him to the large spare bedroom beside the dining hall.
He laid down on the bed, and as she got a better look at him, she wondered how he made it so far from school. She knelt beside him as he took deep breaths, too deep. As if he couldn't get any oxygen through his windpipe.
She removed his glasses, which had miraculously, not been too damaged. She carefully placed them on the set of drawers near beside the bed, before turning toward her patient.
"Gwen..." he murmured, his eyes only partially closed, "I'm sorry..." he trailed off. She managed a small smile,
"Shh, you can apologise later, okay?" Because he would explain to her why he looked half dead and claimed he had killed someone later. That didn't matter now, all that mattered was him. She saw him smile lightly and meet her eyes.
"Thank you" she paused, before realised she had to help him. Her father, being a police officer, had taken medical examinations on first aid procedures and such, and so taught her some of it. She slowly forced herself to focus, and reached for the zipper of his jacket. Calmly, well as calmly as she could, she unzipped it. Once it was opened, she realised she had to actually get him out of it.
"I'll get up." She heard him say. She looked up startled. He smiled cheekily at her. Sitting up, with effort, he groaned in pain when he grazed his wrist against the bed. He looked at her with a light red crimson blush forming on his cheeks. "I er..." he lifted up his broken and fractured wrists, "can't really..." he bit his lip in a manner that Gwen thought was all too cute, then she realised what he was asking her.
She blushed too. Kneeling forward even further, she gently peeled the jacket off his shoulders. When she came up to his wrists though, she hastily apologised and took it off quickly. She saw him grit his teeth in pain as his broken bones were disturbed even further. He was now in his long sleeve shirt.
He looked at her for a moment before lifting his arms up slightly. She helped him out of it, pulling past his head. He breathed deeply as she looked at him with concern, discarding his shirt on the floor along with his jacket.
He now wore his Spiderman uniform and jeans. The suit was going to be a problem. He just sighed before grinning cheekily at her.
"I guess I figured if you'd ever be undressing me it wouldn't have been under these circumstances." He said with a playful smirk, but she still saw that he was in pain. Gwen grinned, despite herself. She stood up, and then sat on the bed beside him. She inched closer to him, so that she was sure her breath was on his lips,
"Maybe later." She saw him blush slightly and stifled her giggles. She pushes a stray streak of silver-blonde hair from her face and behind her ear. She took a deep breath, before placing both her hands at the hems of his spandex shirt, the top part of the suit. "I'm going to take this off okay? And it's gonna hurt..." her eyes trailed to his wrist. There was no way she could treat him with the top part of the suit on, but she knew it would hurt his wrists.
He nodded. "'Kay..." he mumbled, leaning back slightly with a soft sigh.
Gwen began slowly peeling the spandex and took another deep breath when her boyfriend winced. Slowly, slowly, she thought to herself as she calmly- well as calmly as she could- lifting the red and blue skin-tight fabric from his skin. Her eyes widened as with each inch she removed she saw a new different scar, marring his toned chest.
He lifted his hands further, and she was almost done. The material was just at the top of his chest when she felt him flinch as it was removed from his wrists.
"Almost done..." she whispered to him. The spandex kept brushing tightly against his broken wrist, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She almost sighed in relief when the tight fabric was off and discarded on the floor. Almost.
That was when she noticed the fresh angry greyish-purple bruises in hand prints at his neck. God, they were so clear. She couldn't help it, she stared. Peter turned to face her, the purple remnant of the mugging last night ever so clear on the side of his face. He smiled at her cheekily, she shook her head.
That was when she remembered the blood running down his arm just before. She shifted feverishly to make sure it wasn't as bad as she first thought it was. No, it was worst. Much worse. He took a sharp intake of breath when she carefully brushed her finger over the webbing that was dissolving.
"Peter..." she bit her lip as their eyes met, an apology written all over his. She examined it further. "I have to stitch this." She mumbled, mostly to herself but she was sure he heard it. He did, apparently, because he nodded. She stood up abruptly, "I'm going to get the first aid kit." She said, before leaving through the door.
Once she was in the corridor and out of Peter's sight, she leaned against the wall and slumped forward. Oh god, she thought... damn it, she silently cursed and got up from her previous position, Peter was hurt, and she was here wasting time. She quickly walked, practically jogged, through the corridor and to the bathroom.
She hurriedly walked on the cold white tiles before realising she hadn't even taken her shoes of yet. She discarded the thought, and headed towards the cabin above the sink. Pulling it open, she took the first aid kit to the side, a small bottle of painkillers, and an extra roll of bandages. Collecting everything in her arms, she rushed to the kitchen, where she collected a bag of frozen peas, and one of frozen corn. From there, she walked back to the room, expertly balancing everything.
She nudged the door open with her foot and found Peter in the position she had left him in. He looked up at her with a small twinkle in his exhausted state. She placed the frozen peas on his right wrist so the swelling would decrease.
Then, she placed everything on the side table beside the bed, and then sat on the bed, facing his side. He didn't have to turn, because his bullet wound was facing her already. The shifted slightly and pulled the first aid kit, before taking out some alcohol healing wipes. Carefully, she peeled of what little remained of the webs.
Peter winced before giving her one his calm smiles. She didn't smiled back, just licked her lips and concentrated at the task at hand. She heard her father tell her that before stitching a wound you always had to clean in, so it wouldn't become septic. She began cleaning the streams of blood from his arm with as little pressure as she could manage. The good thing was that the bleeding seemed to have stopped.
As she cleaned the outer and inner edges of the wound on both sides of his arm, she couldn't help but almost wince as he flinched. She knew he'd rather be screaming in pain as the alcohol touched his wound, but resulted to grinding his teeth together and clenching his fingers on the quilt of the spare bed.
Once the wound was clean, she examined it further to make sure there was no excess blood or dirt or anything. Taking a deep breath, she placed the dirty wipes on the same side-table as before and pulled a needle and thread from the kit. She told him it would hurt, and he only merrily nodded, taking breaths as deep as he could through his bruised neck. When she finally inserted the needle into his flesh, he hissed in pain, but told her not to stop, that he was okay. She looked at him in concern before continuing.
About a quarter way through the stitching, he spoke. "Thank you, Gwen." He spoke so softly she almost missed it. She carefully inserted the needle again.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked him in a confused manner. He gritted his teeth when the sharp prick of the needle piercing the flesh of his arm came again and again. She kept up a slow but steady face, silently thanking her father so much for teaching her to stitch wounds and the basics of first aid.
Peter just gave her a 'you-know-why look'. "You don't... deserve this. You shouldn't have to do this for me..." He trailed of and Gwen almost rolled her eyes. She carefully took out the needle then put it back in, only further.
"Peter," she chuckled softly, startling him. "Peter, I love you. You have nothing to be sorry for" she said, smiling as she paused for a moment and gazed up at him. He looked at her with a look of love and warmth so intense it made her heart flutter. She returned it.
They didn't speak at she finished the last few stitches. She took a new alcohol wipe and carefully went over the slightly irritated skin. She was thankful the stitches looked right, and not slanted or too deep.
"There." She put the needle and thread away, before looking back at him. "That's done... how's your wrist?" she asked him.
"My right wrist just stings a bit, so it should be fine..." he replied as he nudged the frozen peas away and took a better look at it. It was slightly red around the edges, but thankfully didn't seem broken or fractured. "My other wrist though..." He laughed a deep, humourless hollow laugh, before pulling up his left hand.
His left wrist was purple and red, and had an odd angle to it. It was obviously broken. "I'll put a cast around it. With your Spiderman powers it should take about a week or so to heal..." she mumbled, mainly to herself.
She took the large first aid kit and pulled out some white powdery sheets from it. She inhaled and exhaled sharply. She'd never made a cast before. What if she done it wrong and his wrist didn't heal properly? What if he couldn't move it right afterwards? What if- what if...
She snapped out her thoughts when she heard him chuckle. "You'll do fine." He smiled at her, a smiled that wiped away all her worries and fears. She nodded back confidently, before taking a gentle grip of his forearm.
"How do you do that?" she muttered, asking him softly. He raised an eye brow as she began to peel of the thin layer of almost invisible protector paper, before lifting his forearm.
"Do what?" he said cheekily. A light smirk played on his soft lips as she lowered the back of his wrist onto the cast paper. He watched her gingerly.
"You know..." she began to wrap the cast around his wrist was tentatively and delicately as she could. "That thing where you know what I'm thinking..." she wrapped the paper all the way around before tightening it carefully. "Then you say something and smile and just... make it all better" she lifted her head with a soft smile.
She saw his right hand move, before he grazed her chin with her soft touch. Her eyes widened slightly, before his thumb brushed against her smooth cheek and pulled her close. Her eyes fluttered close as she moved lightly into his touch. Everything forgotten, both of them, leaning forehead to forehead, their lips only centimetres apart...
"Because I love you" he said, before drawing her in. Her lips met his in a calm, gentle, passionate kiss. Her lips were soft against his, his loving and gentle against hers. When they broke apart, they shared a look, a moment that neither of them wanted to leave. Gwen's lips broke into a small smile.
"I love you too, but..." she whispered huskily as she leaned into his ear, "I need to treat your other wrist." And with that, the leaned back and he smirked. She pulled the hand that was just at her cheek, and looked at it. "Doesn't look too bad, but I still need to bandage it."
"Right" he said, moving closer so that she could examine it better. "It should be healed in a day or so..."
Gwen pulled out some bandages, from behind the left over unused cast paper in the first aid case. She didn't have to cut it, because as she began bandaging his hand, looping the fabric over and around his thumb to stabilise it, she realised there was just the perfect amount.
She taped it in place with some medical tape then retreated with a sigh. She looked at him again, and then remembered the bruises on his neck. Peter leaned it, realising what she wanted to do. She scanned the wound. It was just as bad as it had been before, but it was only slightly faded and Peter's breathing was more calm, and even. More controlled. She took one of the fresh vegetable packs and held it to the worst part of the injury, on the right side of his neck. He winced at the contact but did nothing more than that. He just watched her.
"What happened?" she finally asked lightly. She didn't want to. Gwen wanted him to rest, but the look in his eyes told her he still had something on his chest. He blamed himself for whatever happened. She couldn't have that. Once she had the full story, she would make sure he knew he wasn't to blame for any of it. "Peter... what happened?"
He bit his lip. "I... it was in maths... and... he called me, after class. He seemed, you know, weird. Just- off. My senses were telling me something was wrong- but I just couldn't see it..." his voice broke slightly and he bowed his head. Gwen held the frozen food to his neck and inched closer in comfort. "He told me no one suspected me, he told me he knew. His eyes were- red. And he went really pale. He had super strength..." he looked at her with a certain uncertainty in his wonderful, chocolate orbs.
"I just... I don't know how. We... we fought. I kicked him through the window, but I held him up with me web- just so he would tell me what he meant. How he knew... but" he licked his dry lips and his handsome features slumped. "He just said they didn't know. But they will, soon. He said that they were after Spiderman. Then he broke the webbing." He stopped talking and looked at her.
"Oh Peter..." she saw the haunted look in his eyes. Only weeks ago he saved the entirety of New York and was labelled a hero. Now he was being hunted down by madmen with superpowers. "It isn't your fault."
He just nodded, not really believing her words.
"But Mr. Wells... You've had him for years. He's always liked you. I just don't understand. You've never said anything about your spider senses going off when he was nearby before... why would he just...? And how? How could he have possibly known?" She shook her head, perplexed.
"I don't know. I'm sure he's never had those powers before. He's never acted strange or... I don't understand. I'm sure he only found out recently, because he's never acted like this before. Someone hired him, but why? He said they didn't know I was Spiderman, there could've been so many others." He didn't say anything else, he just looked at her. She shook her head; she was just as confused as he was.
"All we know is that someone is after you. An organisation, sense he used the term 'they'. They hired him, without knowing he was Spiderman's maths teacher. But he knew you were Spiderman, but didn't tell them, why he didn't tell them, I don't know..." she said, meeting his eyes again.
"Maybe because if he told them, someone else would have a chance. They chased Spiderman, but imagine knowing who Spiderman was. There'd be no need to lure me out or anything. It'll make it a surprise. If he told them then they'd, meaning the others- because I'm sure he said they were hunting me- might've attacked, and gotten to me first, before him." He finished, sighed deeply. He shifted slightly, about to speak- but Gwen interrupted him.
"We'll figure this out later, alright? You need to rest" she told him, moving away from the bed, and standing up with both hands on her hips. Peter sighed and looked outside. The sun was beginning to set.
"I should get going- Aunt May will be getting worried..." But Gwen beat him to it. As he tried to stand, she gently pushed him back on the bed so that he was lying down, his eyebrows raised at her.
"You haven't slept, in what, three days?" She didn't wait for him to protest because she knew it was true. "I'm calling Aunt May and telling her you're staying the night. Today's Friday, so there's no school tomorrow, you don't have to worry about anything." She finished with a cheeky smile and bent down to peck his cheek.
"I... Thank you." He looked at her with a kind expression. She collected the first aid things but left the bottle with the painkillers, "I'll be back in a sec'"
Gwen hurried across the house and put everything back where it was supposed to be. It was, surprisingly, already evening. Once she put everything back, she went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water to go with the painkillers. When she made it back to the spare bedroom, she found Peter gazing up at the ceiling looking very tired and worn out indeed. Opening the bottle of pills, she took out two and handed it to him with the water.
Peter sat up and drank the painkillers, sighing in relief as they begun to ebb away the pain.
"Go to sleep." Gwen whispered to him. He really looked like he was going to protest, but was so tired he was asleep even before he hit the pillow.
It was rather hot inside, so Gwen didn't worry too much about the fact that he slept on the sheets rather than in them. She looked at him, when she noticed he was still wearing his signature black converse.
She sighed and moved to the bottom of the bed. Those shoes couldn't be comfortable to sleep in. Slowly, she let her hands trail over to them and began to untie them. It didn't take long before both shoes were off and discarded somewhere else on the floor.
That was when she really looked at him. She sat on a chair and moved it near the bed and away from the desk. She paid close attention to his toned chest; it was more scarred then she first assumed. There were old yellow-ish green bruises, whilst some where a red, grey-ish purple tone- the fresher ones. There were slashes crisscrossing basically every part of his torso. Horizontal ones, vertical ones, ones so deep it was hard to believe he'd survived all that. She traced a particular one on his side, it was long, and ran from his waistline to just under his arm. Some were even stitched, knowing Peter, he'd stitched them himself. There were knife wounds and bullet wounds, not just the one she had just treated on his upper arm. The discolorations on his neck were both fading and darkening, into different vivid angry shades.
"Oh Peter..." Gwen whispered, as for the first time that day, allowed a single crystal tear to break through her long lashes and cascade down her pale cheek.
SOMEWHERE ELSE, SAME TIME
"Sir, John Wells died this afternoon" the man clad in a formal black suit said as he stood before his master. He stood in a stiff stance, his voice without a single hint of emotion. The man behind the desk in the fancy well-furnished office turned to look at him, with an indescribable glint in his eye.
The man had short jet black hair and a distinguishable hideous scar running down his eye. He trailed it with a single calloused finger as his lips turned in an evil smirk. His eyes lit up and he let out a loud bark of laughter.
"He was found on the concrete grounds of a school. He is believed to have fallen or pushed from a four-story window. The classroom from which he fell from was dishevelled, as if a fight had just taken place." The other lesser man continued, searching his superior's eyes for a hint of anything.
"So he's found him." he let out another animalistic bark of laughter. "He knew who Spiderman was, didn't he, Simon?" he didn't wait for an answer, "And then what? I'll bet he confronted him. I'll bet Spiderman was in that class." He turned again to the other younger man.
"Sir, there is no way Spiderman is a teenage high school student." Simon said, disbelief etched onto his features. "You sent him to capture and kill Spiderman, but perhaps because he was getting close to his true identity that someone forced the information out of him then killed him" he finished, believing his words far more than the other's.
"Perhaps..." the superior said, though did not look convinced. "That is more likely, or it may have been a fellow teacher whom designated the meeting." He replied, no longer smirking. "Nevertheless, I want a name of every single student in that class, Simon."
"Yes sir. Anything else sir?" Simon asked, ready to leave.
"Oh yes. Prepare our experiment. When there is chaos, Spiderman is there to save the day, Simon. Let us make chaos."
Sorry if it's a bit confusing! R & R for a COOKIE! A COOKIE! Seriously, reviews encourage me to write more and make me smile! Thanks to all those who have reviewed chapter one, I LOVE YOU.