Margarite brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face with her arm. It fell back and stuck to her sweaty forehead. Even though it was snowing outside, her basement apartment was always hot when she did laundry for her customers. While closing the steam press on a pair a trousers, she felt the floor shake and instinctively dove under the old metal desk fearing an earthquake. As a young girl she had survived several large quakes in her beloved Mexico. But the movement stopped faster than she anticipated. Climbing out from under the desk, she greeted her 16 yr old son as he emerged groggy from his bedroom.
He rubbed one eye, "What was that?"
"I think it was an earthquake. But it was so short, I'm not sure."
She turned and reached for the door to check outside for any clues as to what that was. With her hand hovering an inch away, the sound of a large object landing on the metal trash cans in the stairwell outside startled her back. When her heart slowed down to normal, she smoothed her skirt, then cautiously opened the door.
She cried out, "Madre de Dios!" then blessed herself.
"What is it, Mamma?"
X x x
Mary Jane sat stunned in her seat at the Pub. Where would be the first place Peter would go to or call? She should be there. She looked at her purse. Of course, he would call her on her cell phone. She pulled it out to check the battery. Now was not when she wanted it to be low. She let out a small sigh of relief. It was fully charged so she placed it within easy reach on the table. She knew she would hear from him as soon as he was able to contact her. Which had better be soon!
She fought to look up at the TV. She knew Peter had been there. That boatload of firefighters leaving the freighter proved he was there. He's the only one that could have gotten them out. But no one was saying anything about seeing him or knowing his whereabouts. They were too busy looking for those men in the tug that had been caught up in the blast.
When her phone rang, MJ snatched at it with such alacrity that she knocked it off the table and onto the floor where it slid under the benchseats. Cursing as she went crawling for it, "Please don't hang up. Please don't hang up." Her fingertips tagged, then snagged the small fliptop and she hurried to answer it.
"Hello? Peter?
"Oh, hi Louise. Yeah, the Pub that Pete and I went to tonight has two TVs which are both focused on the fire."
She sat and listened, wishing her friend to hurry up and finish. She wanted to leave the phone line free for Spider-man to call to say he was alright."
"Yeah, it's something isn't it? Listen Louise, our desserts just arrived. I'll talk to you later, ok?" She hung up before Louise could get another word in. She hated lying to her close friend, but she wanted…no make that needed her off the phone. Then with dismay, she realized that she had answered the phone asking for Pete. She hoped Louise didn't pick up on that since she just insinuated that their desserts had just been brought over.
She placed the phone back on the table and stared at it, wishing it would ring, willing it to ring. Ever since she showed up at his doorstep almost a year ago, he had been so good at letting her know he was alright. A few times she had a fright, but within minutes of the media plastering the news all over the airwaves, he had called. It would be quick, especially if he had more work to do, and it would be collect, with no pockets for his own cell or change for a payphone. But he proved to be responsible about that aspect of his life. So there she sat willing her phone to ring.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when it rang again, "Hello?"
"Oh, hi Aunt May. No, Peter's not here right now."
She listened to a worried May.
"Actually, I think he is down at the docks, taking pictures for the Bugle," she lied. But she felt, just in case, don't think that! But in case something did happen, at least Aunt May knew he was in the area. When the elder woman sounded stressed over the news, MJ hid her own anxiety, "Don't worry Aunt May. I'm sure they're keeping all reporters out of harms way. The police are good like that. I'll have him call you as soon as I hear from him. Ok?"
She hung up and looked to the news again. Bodies were being pulled out from the water. Bodies of firemen who thought they had made it to safety. Will no one say anything about seeing Spider-man? The newsman kept droning on and on about all the damage, the raging inferno and the possibility that there were still more chemicals to explode. But from the looks of what was left of the ship, she didn't see how. Attention shifted from the freighter which had started sinking, to the docks where several warehouses were now on fire. Focus switched to what explosives or harmful chemicals existed in those buildings. The brotherhood, having no time to mourn their dead, concentrated on putting out the new infernos.
Mary Jane wished she had someone to talk to. Someone who knew. Unfortunately she never met any of the people from the Spider-man Anti-Defamation League that Peter had talked abouti. She knew a few first names but that was all. Even if she did know how to get hold of any of those people, she would have felt awkward leaning on them for comfort when she had never met them before. She thought of Harry. Tears shimmered as she thought of her dead friend. So, she sat alone, in the booth at the pub, waiting for a call.
X x x x
"Mother of God," Margarite said again in English as she stared at the source of the ruckus.
Being a foot taller than his mother, Juan Pedro peered over the top of her to see what she was looking at. A smile quickly flashed across his face, "Do you know what this means? We'll be rich! We can leave this hell-hole of an apartment. You won't have to do laundry eighteen hours a day anymore."
She looked at him puzzled, "What do you mean this will make us rich. All I see here is a dead man."
"But don't you see? See what's left of his outfit? Don't you know who that is?"
She looked back at the bruised, battered, and broken body of a young man crumpled beside the trash cans, snow forming a frigid blanket over him. She then noticed the still smoldering remains of his red and blue outfit it's which she had seen adorning the front page of the Bugle so many times. The mask was gone as was most of his top.
"Spider-man. I read the papers. But how does his body make us rich?" Anger weaved throughout her voice.
"We sell his identity to the highest bidder before we turn it over to the police. It's not like he's going to have to worry about it anymore."
She turned back and studied the still figure, sadness leaking into her heart. Such a young man, one who did so much for the city, should end up like this. His body being auctioned to the highest bidder. It didn't seem right. It was not dignified. It was not moral. In fact she considered it sacrilegious.
She pondered the dilemma, and it was a dilemma since they really could use the money. While looking at the young hero, she thought she saw something. Did his eye just flicker when a snowflake landed on his lashes? She stepped closer and leaned over the body. Where there thin tendrils of plume escaping his lips? Trembling, she reached down and put her fingers on the inside of his wrist. Immediately, upon feeling the odd texture of skin she dropped his hand as if she were holding a hot poker searing her flesh. Without touching it further, she studied the bizarre webbing patch. Still queasy, she opted to take the pulse from his exposed neck.
Motioning to her strapping young son, "Hurry, he's alive. Get him inside out of this weather."
Obeying his mother, Juan Pedro only succeeded in lifting the heavy hero by the shoulders to drag him inside.
"Bring him to your bedroom."
"My bedroom? Why? What if he dies on my bed?"
She knew it was unfair to ask her son to vacate his own room, especially if Spider-man did expire on Juan's bed. She looked around the cramped space, and sensing how cold the injured man must be, pointed to where the space heater radiated warmth. "Let me set up some blankets over there on the floor. You can put him there when I'm done."
Once that chore was completed, she turned to her son, "He's smaller than you, go see what clothes you have outgrown. Maybe something will fit him." Her attention focused back on Spider-man. He was badly injured and burned. He needed a hospital, that she knew, but she also realized that he needed to keep his identity a secret. She would wait until he woke up, and hopefully he would let her know if there was someone special he trusted. Until then she would dress his wounds.
Juan Pedro returned with a sweatshirt and sweatpants. She looked up at him and commanded, "Bring me some hot water and soap. Then go get the antiseptic from the medicine cabinet." Before he could leave to follower her orders, he saw her pulling off the remains of his outfit. "Mamma! What are you doing? He has nothing on under that"
"It is not like I haven't seen what makes a man, a man, Juan. These threads are about to fall off him anyway. Besides, I need to dress his wounds. I am doing nothing more than nursing him. Now get your mind out of the gutter and do as I ask."
Although professional when she spoke to her son, underneath, she still couldn't help but admire the sculpted body of the young man.
When Juan returned with the antiseptic, he stared uncomfortably at his mother working on the naked male. His trance was broken when she asked, "Help me turn him over, I need to work on his back, too."
Margarite looked up when her son did not move at her request. "What's wrong? I asked you to help me roll him over." Sensing the teen's unease at watching her work so nonchalantly on him, she pulled a blanket over the bottom half of her patient. "Better?"
Still awkward, he obeyed his mother and turned him over.
"Oh my." She gasped when she saw his back. "I have never seen so many holes in one person before. What do you think caused this?" She examined one particular wound, and pulled out a large, odd shape chunk of metal. "Well he wasn't shot."
"Shrapnel," the boy stated flatly.
"What?"
"It looks like shrapnel. Pieces of metal that go flying when something explodes. It's in our history books. Mines are made with extra metal, so that when they explode, more damage is done. Kills more soldiers in one bang than with bullets."
She looked at her son and saw how somber he was when he spoke of such carnage. "But there is no war here. How would he get hit with something like that?"
The boy thought for a moment. Shrugged his shoulders, then brighten when he did think of something, "The earthquake. Maybe it wasn't an earthquake."
"Something that big would be on the news." He turned on the TV.
They had the set on but a few minutes before they received the answer. "I was right…look at that!" Juan pointed at the screen. He then looked at the man with puzzlement and awe. "He survived that? The dock is over a mile away."
"So, do you still want to sell his identity?"
Young Juan Pedro looked down and shook his head.
"Now, do you think you can help me dress his wounds?" She saw the queasiness cross her son's face. "That's ok, just bring me what I need when I ask for it." She bent over her new charge and started pulling out the smaller bits of metal and debris.
Juan needed to look away. Once his mother had finished cleaning and dressing, she struggled to put the sweatpants on her young patient. There was just something about watching her work that close to a naked man. Although he himself has been without clothes and with a girl before, seeing his mother like that… he just couldn't handle it. He walked into his bedroom.
Before Margarite could put the sweatshirt on, the wall-crawler's eyes fluttered. "Spider-man? Spider-man? Can you hear me? You're safe, here. Can you hear me?"
He blinked, and slowly focused on the tired-looking woman talking to him. "Spider-man. I have given you first aid, but I think you should go to a hospital. Is there someone you trust? Someone who can help?"
Juan came back out when he heard his mother speak.
"What happened?" Spidey slurred.
"You were in an explosion. The large freighter in the harbor went up like fireworks. Spider-man, you landed outside our door. That's over a mile away!" Juan volunteered eagerly.
"Spider-man? What's a Spider-man?" the young hero asked before slipping away again.
The woman and her son looked at each other.
i See other Spider-man fanfic "We All Can't Keep Secrets"
