Well, after that not-so-earth-shattering cliffhanger last chapter, I hope you enjoy this a little more. Things won't really start getting interesting until chapter five/sixish, so be a little patient and bear with me. You might even like it when we get there ;) B-) Anyway, as always, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…
The Legacy of a Hero
Chapter Four
"Every day of my life," Peter Parker said, quietly answering his wife's question. "I hate doing this to you – to the kids, but I can't give it up. The city needs a hero. They need me."
MJ sighed and looked away, "So do we, Tiger. So do we…" She cleared her throat after a moment and looked at Peter expectantly. "You better make sure though that nothing – and I mean nothing – makes you miss Heather's birthday. Not even if another 9/11 happens, I want you here with us. She's seen enough disappointment as it is with you gone so much. And Peter, I hate to admit it, but she's growing up. She won't be here with us forever – don't let her slip through your fingers."
Peter smiled sadly and gave his wife a light kiss. "I won't I promise. I love you," he murmured.
MJ smiled back. "I love you too… always will. Come on. Let's get some sleep."
Heart pounding, Heather backed up quickly into her room and shut the door silently, thanking any higher power that the hinges didn't creak. She backed up even more and sat on the bed, breathing deeply as she tried to process what had just happened.
This is impossible! Her mind screamed. Peter Parker wasn't a super hero – he wasn't a super anything. He was a news photographer and an assistant professor at Empire University. Spiderman was totally different than her father. Spiderman put his life in danger every day to save people; he jumped in burning buildings, stopped carjackings, and caught thugs, thieves, rapists and murderers.
He'd even saved Heather herself once.
She'd been on a school field trip, heading home on the bus after a day at the city zoo. Suddenly a Hobgoblin bomb had exploded in front of the bus on a bridge. The bus driver had swerved to avoid it, spinning the vehicle until it was hanging a little less than half way off the edge, the suspension cables barely keeping it in place.
Heather had been ten and she remembered clearly the chaos of it all – fire burning on the asphalt and quickly spreading to the tires, acrid smoke filling the bus, kids screaming and coughing, the driver trying to keep them all calm as car drivers fled their vehicles and ran away. Above them, through the window, Heather could see Spiderman and the Hobgoblin fighting on top of the suspension bridge, yelling incoherently at each other.
It all seemed to go on for an eternity as the bus wobbled half on, half off the bridge, tipping back and forth with every movement from the frightened children within like a seesaw.
Finally, Hobgoblin got in a good punch and fled while Spiderman had been dazed. With the villain gone, the superhero had swung down to the school bus, using his webbing to try and better anchor the back of the vehicle. The front axle was still hanging off, so he quickly and decisively got everyone off the bus until only Heather had been left.
She remembered she'd been sitting in the front, behind the driver to avoid the bullies in her class. As everyone else had fled, Heather had hunkered down in her seat, terrified to move even an inch. Spiderman climbed back into the bus to retrieve her, his costume darkened from the smoke of the growing fire. In the distance, she could faintly hear the sirens of fire trucks and police, but everything seemed so surreal, she'd wondered if she was just imagining the sounds.
"Come on sweetie, you're the last one," Spiderman had entreated her from a few rows away, holding out a gloved hand. "You can do it. Just stand up slowly, walk towards me and take my hand."
Heather frightfully shook her head, twin braids flipping around her sweat and dirt streaked face. "I – I can't!" she'd stuttered.
"Yes you can, just focus on me," Spiderman encouraged her in a calm tone. "We're getting out of this together. We're going to get you home to your family, but first you have to stand up and take my hand."
Hesitantly and ever so slowly, Heather uncurled her body and put her sneakers down on the floor of the bus, eyes locked on the hero's red mask. Still moving slowly, she put one hand on the back of the bench seat and stood, whimpering in fright as the bus wobbled again.
Her first mistake was looking behind her, out the shattered front window and seeing nothing but the blue sky and the river. Shuddering and clutching the seat, she took a tentative step out into the isle, then another. Four steps later, she was completely in the isle, backpack slung across her shoulders.
"That's it! You're doing great, just keep coming," Spiderman said, voice positive and calm.
Her second mistake was pausing and looking back over her shoulder at the sky – the sky that looked so very big and so very empty. "Spiderman, I can't do it!" she cried, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks.
"Yes you can! Look at me sweetieand only me," He implored, stretching out his hand a little farther.
She shook her head, grasped one of the support bars tightly, closing her eyes tight. She kept furiously wishing that this was just a nightmare she could wake up from. If only she could pinch herself and awake in her warm bed, everything would be all right!
"Don't quit on me now," Spiderman pleaded. "Can you tell me your name?"
Heather opened her eyes a little and licked her cut lip, tasting dried blood. "He – Heather. I'm Heather."
"Okay, Heather, listen carefully. I'm going to take one step forward, and I want you to do the same. Then I'll go and then you go until we meet in the middle. Then we're both getting out of here, okay? Can you do that for me, Heather? Can you be brave?" She couldn't be sure, but she thought he was smiling a little beneath his mask – it seemed that way by the stretch of the fabric.
She nodded ever so slightly, swallowing and trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. "Okay."
Spiderman cautiously slid one foot forward, and beckoned at Heather who obligingly advanced a pace. He then quickly moved ahead and, trusting herself a bit more, Heather moved without being prompted. The process was repeated until finally she slid forward one more pace into reach.
Spiderman swiftly picked her up and turned, about to exit the bus, when his keen spider senses kicked in and he turned his head the opposite direction. Flying towards the bus was the Hobgoblin, apparently not done with his game. Laughing madly, he pulled out a fresh pumpkin bomb and threw it at the bridge – specifically the portion that was just beneath the front of the school bus.
Things seemed to go in super slow motion after that. The bomb had exploded. The bus tipped forward and fell. Heather had screamed. Spiderman ran forward and jumped out the emergency back door, flying through thin air. Then suddenly, quite suddenly, they weren't flying or falling, but merely hanging from a strong web line beneath the bridge. Beneath them the school bus splashed into the river and slowly sunk into its murky depths.
For a few seconds, Heather greedily gulped in air to quell her racing heart, clinging desperately to her savior. Spiderman gave her a quick squeeze. "It's all right now, Heather. You're safe."
She closed her eyes gratefully as the words sunk in. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Don't worry Heather everything's going to be fine," He said soothingly, slowly pulling them upwards. He shot off another line and swung them up and back onto the bridge.
Once back on solid ground, Heather very reluctantly released the superhero's neck. For a moment they merely gazed at each other, she in awe while his expression remained in obscurity. Blinking back tears of relief she threw her arms around his waist and gave him a wobbly smile. "Thank you Spiderman. You saved my life."
Spiderman returned the hug gently, "Just doing my job, short stuff."
"I don't care what anyone says," Heather told him solemnly, staring intently at his reflective eyepieces. "I'll never see you as anything but what you really are – a hero. I promise, Spiderman, you'll always be a hero to me."
Spiderman seemed at a loss of words for a moment. Softly he said, "Thank you, Heather. That… that means a lot." He looked up, spotting a couple of police officers and paramedics heading towards them, as well as a handful of reporters. Turning back to the young girl, he gave her shoulder one more squeeze. "I have to go now. Be good for your parents – they must be real proud of you… I know I am."
And just like that, he swung away and was gone. After that day, Heather had kept her promise – Spiderman was a hero in her eyes, and always would be. That was when she'd started the scrapbook, chronicling the hero's career in New York from his first day to the present and every day in between.
Now, nearly eight years later, she sat in her dark room with what she'd just witnessed running through her head on a permanent loop. She wondered if it was fake after all, simply an act. Had the last twenty plus years been a performance? A hoax? All the supposed lives Spiderman had saved, all the battles he'd won against crazed super villains who'd threaten the city – was it even true? Had the entire city been duped?
Heather ran a hand through her hair, reeling from the implications. It wasn't possible. Her father couldn't really be Spiderman, could he? She remembered the way Spiderman had held her as they dangled in the air, the way he'd hugged her and talked to her… it didn't add up. Those feelings were different when she compared them to things her father had done for her. She could recall hugs with her father; they were brief and while he meant well, they'd felt stiff. Her dad didn't often show a lot of outward affection, and when they talked his mind always seemed elsewhere.
She shook her head and closed her eyes. No, it wasn't real. It was some kind of hallucination… someone must have spiked my beer, probably Josh. Or maybe I'm already asleep and I'm dreaming. Either way, none of it was real. There's no way.
She took a deep, calming breath. I'm going to go to sleep now, and tomorrow morning when I wake up, I'll probably be sick from whatever Josh drugged me with and that will be my proof. By tomorrow, all of this will be nothing more than a horrible nightmare my brain thought up.
Heather pulled down the covers, cleared away the excess pillows she'd used in her deception and climbed beneath the sheets. She closed her eyes, already feeling sleep creeping in at the corners of her consciousness. However, sleep couldn't come quick enough to squelch one last disturbing thought.
If I'm wrong and this isn't a dream, then what the hell am I supposed to do now?
