-Hey-o! I'm here again. Still loving this story, it's a bunch of fun! Getting back to the main mystery at hand…

Noon- Daily Bugle Skyscraper, Foyer

After an adventurous, productive, and an admittedly actually-none-of-these-things morning, I go back into the bedroom to change into nicer, more dressy clothes. When I can, I go meet up with Peter and Rachel for lunch during his break. I put on my blouse and skirt and put away my pajamas that'd I'd been loafing around all morning. I'm putting on my nicer clothes because JJJ (Peter's Boss) insists that anyone who works in his building be dressed well and business like, to give off a good professional vibe. I know I don't work there, but, to be respectful to JJJ's rules (and in hope that, if he thinks well of me, he'll be good to Peter), I still dress up. Peter appreciates the gesture too.

As I step outside the Sanctum, I take a moment to appreciate how huge New York is. I mean, I have a Hawkeye view (get it? Like bird but like superhero too? Yes, I realize it doesn't make a lot of sense) of everything when I go swinging, but from down here, it just kinda strikes you as huge. The buildings are huge. The cars are huge. The stores are huge. Even the personalities are huge. Speaking of, I've arrived at my destination: JJJ's Magnus Opus, the Daily Bugle building.

I walk in and go to the front desk, my flats making no sound as I walk. Ms. Brant, the receptionist, a brunette in her mid thirties who wears way too much perfume and not enough anti-frizz hair spray, knows exactly what I'm here for. "Mr. Parker?" she says into the ancient phone system they have installed. "A special someone is here to join you and your daughter for lunch. I'm sending her up now."

"Thanks, Betty," I call behind me as I head for the elevator. I press the button for the thirtieth floor, and wait for the elevator to get moving. Peter told me once that Jameson hasn't updated his elevator system since the '90s, which is why the elevators sometimes stop moving after leaving random levels. This happens twice before the elevator actually stops on the 15th floor to pick someone else up. I scoot into a corner to let whoever it is in. To my surprise (and distress), it's the Big Man Himself, Peter's boss, the editor in chief here at the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson who walks in. Great. This is going to be awkward.

I try to not make eye contact, but JJJ is at least chivalrous enough to acknowledge another person in the elevator. "Oh, excuse me, intern. I didn't see you there," He says to me, his voice lacking the usual warm, apologetic tone people usually use when greeting one another. Jameson is a big man, who, despite his gray hair that gives off a sense of old age, looks like he could wrestle you to the ground. I try to keep my face out of view, because I really don't like having conversations with JJJ. Back when I started as a superhero, JJJ would use his newspaper to sing the praises of just about every hero but me. For me, he would use his editorials and front pages to rant about how much of a menace I was to society. Fortunately, the hate didn't last too long. Once I became an Avenger, the public eye's view softened as did The Daily Bugle's editorials (I'm pretty sure it's, like, illegal to hate an Avenger.) And even though I'm not an Avenger anymore, my good public standing has thankfully stayed. But, despite all that, I'm still very wary of him.

We spend a half-minute in silence before he takes a second glance at me and realizes who I am. "Wait. You're not one of my interns! Hello, Mrs. Stacey-Parker. I'm somewhat surprised to see you here, considering how little you ever seem to actually support your family. Every day it seems that Peter walks in with your daughter, and he still manages to be the most productive member of the DB team. What do you contribute to your families lives? While Peter works so hard, and takes care of Rachel, are you doing anything to help support your husband and daughter?"

I shrink farther into the corner I was already occupying. Suddenly,the elevator seems to shrink until I can barely fit inside anymore. "Honestly, what kind of a mother just leaves her daughter during the day, never once-Oh, here's the 29th floor. Bye, Mrs. Stacey-Parker. And, Please, rethink your life a little?" JJJ asks, still emotionless, as he leaves the compartment.

I just stand there for a second. And then I sink to the floor and feel my eyes grow hot and wet as the elevator goes up once more to the thirtieth floor. I mean, it's not like I don't struggle with being away from my family most of the time as it is. I hate being unable to really get to be around during the day to help raise Rachel. But having JJJ say it makes it so much more real, somehow.

As the elevator door opens, I stand and walk as quickly as I can to Peter's desk, avoiding the other desks and people in my way while looking down so as I don't catch anyone's eye, as mine are a bit red.

"Gwen! I was wondering when you'd get here." Peter greets me with no sense of anger at what happened this morning in his voice as I walk up to his desk where he's rocking Rachel next to his desk. He's wearing his dark blue suit and tie today. In an effort to take my mind off what happened today, I briefly flash back to when we went shopping to get it fitted for him. It helps a little. "Where do you wanna eat….Are you OK, Gwen?" Darn. He noticed. Really quickly. He gets up from his desk and comes and holds me for a second. "Hey, it's OK. It's OK. Hey, look I'm sorry about this morning. Here, let's go down to the Silver Spoon Cafe and get a quick lunch, and we can talk all about it, OK? Here, I have Rachel's stroller right here, so we can walk down there together and talk this all out." He takes Rachel out of her seat, unfolds the Stroller and carefully makes sure she's comfortable as he sits her inside. He looks at me and asks, "Do you wanna push her?" I nod, wordlessly. He hugs me again, offers me a tissue, and pushes the black and white baby stroller towards me. "Let's go, then." I take hold of the stroller, we enter back into the elevator and Peter presses DOWN.

12:30 PM- Outside The Daily Bugle Skyscraper, On 2nd St

"...And so he told me how poor of a mother I was and he ragged on me until we got to the floor he was heading for. So, yeah. In addition to our fight this morning, today I've just been a bit of an emotional wreck. So….yep. That was my morning."

By the time I finish telling Peter about the other half of my morning, I had mostly stopped being so sad. Accompanying your family to your favorite lunch place can do that to you. My eyes had stopped being red, I didn't sniffle every time I talked, and had generally calmed down.

We walk down 2nd St as we talk. There are people hustling and bustling all over the place. All kinds of people walking around, only interested in their own business. I suppose I can't blame them. I don't really want any of them interested in my business right now.

"Wow. I am sorry about him, Gwen. He means well, most of the time, but he's really good at speaking his mind, and sometimes that leads to him overstepping his boundaries a little. Sometimes, when he sees what...what he thinks is an injustice, he just can't, y'know, not say anything about it. It's OK, though. You know it's OK. I am completely OK, as you know, with your...Your day job. Don't worry about it." Peter quietly tells me. Goodness. I can tell he means every word.

"Thanks, Peter. I know how you feel about the whole thing, believe me, I do. But sometimes, it's just hard for me to keep doing this when I feel like I'm constantly reminded what I'm missing in our lives." We arrive at the Silver Spoon Cafe. Peter holds the door open for me, and I push Rachel inside. The Cafe is quiet and not very full, which is OK with me. The place is more of an acquired taste, with its retro feel and look (it was built somewhere circa the 1960's). We get in line to order, which is just a walk up to the ordering counter. We order our food (Soup for Peter, Salad for me), and Peter pulls a jar of Mixed Berry Blast (I wish my food had cool names like that) out of his Baby Care Bag for Rachel.

Once we had about finished eating for a while, Peter brings up what we're both probably dreading talking about. "But...Listen Gwen. I love you, and I always will. I don't believe you'd ever do anything to hurt Rachel or me. But….well, I will admit to feeling a bit of discomfort at waking up to you chanting in dead languages again. I know that you said you have this gut feeling that you shouldn't tell anyone, but, well, I have a gut feeling about this, too. I think someone's trying to go after you, and somehow they're going to get their shots in by getting at me or Rachel. I know you've been super careful to keep your day job under wraps, but that hasn't stopped...particularly nasty people before from figuring it all out in your line of work." He's got a point. This wouldn't be the first time a villain has been studious and creepy enough to figure out a superhero's identity before. While we continue to talk it over, I finish feeding Rachel and we head back to The Daily Bugle Building.

I kiss Rachel on her head as Peter takes the stroller back from me. I give Peter a quick peck on his cheek. He laughs, turns, and they go back to work. I stand there for a second, slightly confused by Peter's laugh. Maybe he was just amused at how I looked on my tiptoes trying to kiss him. Or maybe he was chuckling because he realized how crazy weird our life is. That's probably it. I put away the idea and hurry back to the Sanctum so I can get dressed and get back to work.

8:17 PM, That Evening- Swinging Above Lafayette St

I go swinging around for a couple hours, only to find: a) no crimes to fix, b) no enemies to stop, and c) no answers to questions that I have been debating all day. Oh well. After one last sweep around the city, I head back home to Peter and Rachel. It's already evening time, about 8 PM. The city always looks so beautiful at night, with so many lights all over the place. I look around and it still boggles my mind (admittedly, not hard to do) how huge NYC is. I stop and land on the rooftop holding the Teleportation Platform. I quickly text Peter that I'm coming as the I step onto the platform. I feel a buzz and look back up from my phone and suddenly I'm back in the Sanctum. With seemingly no one around.

"Peter? I'm home! Where are you? Is Rachel in bed? Is everything OK?" I walk on into the huge foyer looking for Peter. The foyer is huge, with large and intricate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the various lights giving off an almost unnatural feel to the entire building. Which, I suppose, is how Strange likes his place to be. There are weird paintings all over the place. The only one I can recognize is "The Persistence Of Memory" by Salvador Dali, but the rest of the paintings fall into a similar style. Other than that, the place is frankly quite abandoned looking, which, again, is how I assume the Good Doctor wants his place to be. It's just….It's a little empty.

My inner home decorator is interrupted when Peter finally shows up. "Hey, Gwen. Yes, Rachel is in Bed. Yeah, we're all good. I was just wondering how, you know, you're feeling."

I'm confused. "Uhhh… what do you mean? I've gotten over what JJJ said. Of course I have." Why would he still be wondering about that? I thought for sure we had gotten through that at lunch.

"No, no. I meant about … you know, the whole dreams thing? You've had them twice now, I mean, so I figured maybe now we could tell Stephen about it?" Peter asks, somewhat sheepishly.

Oh. That's what he means. "Peter, I told you. It's fine. I'm fine. We're fine. It's totally no big deal, Peter. Just...don't worry about it. You have bigger things to worry about, like your new job duties, and being safe,and your aunt and uncle, even though they don't live in this side of the country, and, of course we have to constantly worry about Rachel, and-and-"

"And you? Who's going to worry about you?" Peter suddenly interjects. "Look. Gwen." He sighs before continuing. "I knew from the moment I met you that you were adventurous. I had figured out that you preferred to be self dependent by the time I proposed to you. And after being married to you for 4 years now, I discovered that your adventurosity and self dependency sometime blinds you towards doing what's best for yourself. I mean, You always do what's best for others, of course. But sometimes you really need someone else to take care of you for you. Which is why….well, it's why I decided to tell Stephen about your dreams myself."

"You did What?!" I suddenly become very aggravated again. "Peter, I thought we had agreed this wasn't a big deal! I've been doing this superheroing thing for a long time, and I know what I need to share and what I don't! This is a Don't! It's no big deal, and now you've made it a huge deal, Peter!"

"No, Gwen, we didn't agree on anything. I told you, I'm not feeling good about… well,anything that's happened to you the past three days! Telling Stephen is what we need to do right now. This'll help you! Look, I'm sorry about going ahead and telling him without your agreeing, but-" He stops and collects himself. "I knew you would never tell Stephen. I could see how adamant you were to not tell anyone else. But...I worry about you, Gwen. I know you've been doing this for a long time now, and I've only been supporting you in your endeavors for a handful of years. But….well,I think I understand this business better than you give me credit for. For some reason, all you superheroes figure that you'd be better off fighting villains by yourself. Well, let me tell you something: You're not. Most people understand that when you find something you can't handle, or explain, you don't try to keep it to yourself. You share and ask for help. That's how friends work. That's how a partnership works. That's how Marriage works. You keep an eye out for each other. You respect each other's ideas, but help out even if the other says they don't need it, because, deep down, you know, in your heart of hearts, that they need you. That's what you do when you love some one. You know what they need, even if they don't. Or don't want to admit it. I love you, Gwen. That's why I did this. I hope I made the right decision." He pauses and turns to look at me. "Uh...Gwen? Are you OK?"

While Peter was giving the most beautiful speech this side of Independence Day, I had started to feel very woozy. I laid down on the bed while he continued being the best person ever. By the time he finished, I felt like I was about to lose my lunch. Great, I think to myself, NOW what's wrong with me?

Peter rushes over to help me. "Gwen? GWEN? What's wrong? What's happening? You look about ready to faint!" As I begin to lose consciousness, I can hear Peter take me into his arms and yell for Strange to get down here and help me. But I'm on my way out….I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my mind though. Like a fog leaving a field…

Why on Earth am I being so Philosophical? Is the last thought I have before losing it.

I'm gone.

Seconds afterwards, Gwen and Peter's Bedroom

Peter is freaking out. His wife just fainted in his arms. Obviously, this has started to worry him. She usually has very good stamina, even after a solid day of super heroing. He's screamed to Stephen to get down here, but he is only now just making his way down the stairs.

Unfortunately, it's too late. To Peter's horror, he watches on helpless while Gwen lapses into Latin incantations once more. For the final time, but this finality is not a good omen. Strange explained to him earlier when he finally told Strange what was happening to Gwen, he mentioned how many times this had happened. Strange suddenly turned still and grave. Peter, he said, under no circumstances can she fall back under. If I'm right, if she falls asleep one more time she will summon...Well, an unspeakable evil. One that will cost the two of you dearly. I need to talk to her immediately. Notify me as soon as she gets back.

But, of course Peter knew he needed to talk to Gwen first. He needed to explain what he had done first, in hopes that he could break the news softly, and explain why he did it as well. Unfortunately, his approach was either too fast or too soft. So they spiralled into another argument, one that went on too long. And while he was busy trying to vocalize his concerns in a caring way, Gwen was falling sick and unconscious again. And he couldn't stop it.

"I told you, I needed to talk to her as soon as she got back. Now you have doomed either humanity or your wife!" Strange yells at Peter, snapping him out of his thoughts. "And I bet you can guess which option she is going to choose."

"No…. NO!" With a scream, Peter releases all of his pent up anger within a word. And just as he finishes, more words create havoc. However, they are not yells but chants, as Gwen voices what Peter figures must be the last part of the "summon", as Strange called it. The room begins to shake and a fire suddenly starts in the corner as the windows burst open with a ferocious wind.

Strange looks on in horror until his eyes suddenly light up with an idea. "Except...maybe I can make it less….Bad. Maybe not fix it entirely, but not doom either…" He turns to Peter and shouts over the wind, "You stay here and protect Gwen from the Fire Guy coming out of the fire over there. I'll go help her isolate the link from her conscious and tell her my idea!" Quickly, Stephen crosses his legs, holds his arms up and connects his forefingers and thumbs, closes his eyes and begins to levitate. He is now oblivious to the outside world.

Peter was quickly becoming utterly confused. He had no idea what the fire guy was, or how Strange was going to help Gwen though she was unconscious. What he did understand, however, were the words 'Protect Gwen'. And he planned on doing that until things make sense again.

Even as he could hear roaring flames and a voice laughing it's evil flaming head off.

Thank goodness for magic room protections, he thought, or otherwise we'd have to deal with Rachel too, and then we'd all be in trouble.