Jasmin2333 : Thanks very much, I do hope more people will take to my story, but I'm already very glad you guys like it!
Daenery86 : Well I hope her reasons won't disappoint you :]
DarkShadow0131 : I really hope she doesn't transform herself either, one lizard monster is quite enough!
Squidgy78 : Thanks :) I'll try to. Let me know what you think.

Here's the next chapter, I hope you all like it! Thank you for the kind words, it's really encouraging to hear/read :)


The girl sat quietly, staring down at her phone, headphones on full blast. She filled her head with loud thundering music. She forced out the vocals, only hearing the instruments, slam and weep and cry into her ears. Her hand darted over the page, searching for something. Her focus darted over the words, she muttered to herself as she read to herself, a lock of hair stubbornly sticking into her eyes.

She eyed the piles next to her, the ones covered, and the ones unread, each as hench as the other. She knew these books, and knew them well. She had spent her entire school career reading them over and over in hopes to find some answers. It had taken her years to gather this many, some she had bought, some she had borrowed, some she had stolen, and some still had their library tags stuck to their spines. She grunted to herself, frustration stuck in her throat as she once again found nothing she didn't know already. Nothing of relevance whatsoever. She had tracked down every lead, every formula, and every scientist that might offer and explanation, and had ended up with nothing except wasted time and effort.

Her apartment had started to light up, sunlight creeping through her drapes, beckoning her towards a new day. She rubbed her temples, as a song ended, and an even rougher one began. Her heart was steady, her legs shifting beneath her duvet. She was used to the sensation of ignorance by now. But every time she was left empty handed, it stung, and she was sure it was the worst each time.

She thought she had it, having the spider-man seated at her table. Doctor Connors was the only real lead she had left. He turned himself into a Lizard for goodness' sake. He's bound to know a thing or two about cell regeneration. He simply has to!

She fought the urge to call her sister, and only eyed her phone as it lay beside her pillow. It was black, the screen shimmering tauntingly, as if it knew that it wasn't going to light up. It knew that there weren't that many contacts in her list, and it knew that she hardly ever got any messages or calls. There was only her sister, and she wouldn't call at the break of dawn, she had no reason to. She looked at her phone, angry with herself, she needed a stupid little gadget to tell her that she wasn't completely alone.

She pushed the books off her lap and freed herself from her duvet. She turned around and reached for the handle of her window, pushing aside the drapes. It was beautiful outside, colourful, it could even be described as serene. It smelled like rain, though there wasn't a cloud in sight. The city was slowly awakening around her, a strangler or two out on the pavement, having to leave early for a job in a different town. The bakers and paper boys of the world were locking their doors behind them and went on their way.

How envious she felt, seeing them go. They had purpose to their life, and knew exactly what to expect when they got out of bed at the start of the day. What was her purpose? What was her calling? She had held different jobs through out her life, but none of them felt right. She had worked in a restaurant, waiting tables, cooking food, serving drinks. She'd worked in retail and florists, and even in mental and elderly homes. It was rewarding sure, helping people or serving them, but there was nothing there. At least, not for her. It was a way to earn money and keep her way of life, that was all.

She wanted nothing more than to make a difference, and she knew she could. If someone would just let her. She could be the remedy for so many diseases. She was the cure. She was their cure. And it was going to be wasted if she didn't figure something out very soon. This was up to her, no madman in a police box was going to show her the way forward.

Peter had left her apartment in a daze. He had bolted out her window when her back was turned. His chest felt light, his limbs tingling. The way she had touched him, the way she had calmed him was...something else. He felt cradled by a mother, by his mother even. He could remember her, vividly when he closed his eyes. Aunt May had repainted most of his memories, but he could still see her face, hear her voice when he thought on it.

This had been the second time he had left her mid sentence, hanging. There was dependence in her eyes, and he had simply walked out. The mist she had cast on him, had lingered all the way home. It had drawn him back to reality, and back home. His aunt was furious when he stumbled in through the window, barely enough time to change out of his suit. She had shouted with tearing eyes, and he had nodded and held her. He simply cried and wrapped her arms around him, like she always did. Whispering concerns and holding him. She had smelled like cinnamon.

He shifted under his sheets, eyeing the mess that was his room. The sun was rising, colouring the sky in a orange pink glow. "so..." She whispered, sitting by the side of his bed. "What are you going to do now?" Gwen was speaking slowly, squinting her eyes and smiling. He turned to her, somehow more irritated by her presence than blessed. He made a noise at her and turned to his side. "Aren't you going to help her?" She whispered, earning herself another sound.

He muffled her, forcing pillow to his ears, muttering to leave him be. She leaned towards him, taking her place on his bed. Leaning over his side, tilting her face with a pout "you like her, don't you?" At that Peter whipped his head around, sending the pillow flying dramatically, forcing her to slide off him. "What-no!"

She smiled even wider. "You so do!" she said accusingly, prodding him in the stomach. His eyes grew wide, his head shaking sideways with an enormous tempo. "No no no no no. I do not!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. Her expression fell, as she suddenly turned serious. "It's okay you know."

Peter's fingers twitched, wanting to reassure her as her expression showed something he could not place. Was she upset that he had spent time with another girl? Why did she think he liked that girl? She was a figment of his imagination for crying out loud, why did she think anything. Did that mean that he thought he liked her? Was his subconscious trying to trick him? Trying to tell him it would be okay to like someone again? Or was his subconscious telling him that he did have feelings for her? And even if he did! What then?!

He let out a deep sigh, his hand firmly squishing the thoughts out of his head. Having a mind-like projection thingie hanging about was doing serious numbers on his brain. He couldn't tell which thoughts were his and which thoughts were a reaction to her thoughts. … even that very sentence was confusing.

Gwen stared at him lazily, apparently bored by his reaction, or unconvinced at least. "go ahead, beat yourself up some more." She called, angrily. Knocking him against his shoulder. Following up with only silence. She had faded in a blink of an eye, literally. In a single second she had gone, the place on the bed where she had been was empty, the sheets not even wrinkled.

She was definitely all in his head...

He eyed his window as the sky turned blue again, the new day was here and he found himself with no purpose to get up. He had graduated already, and selecting a college was the last thing on his mind. He couldn't even focus his mind for that long. How was he going to help out his aunt? She had money problems enough, and his pictures were hardly selling for as much as he'd have liked. He had to think of something, but his mind remained blank. He had never felt more useless in his life.

He wondered what she felt like, she had told him that she did odd jobs for her landlord, was that all she did? Was it a for filling life? Did she feel as useless as he did, or was she at peace with who she was? She did not seem ill-content with her life, yet she did seem very eager to discuss doctor Connors. She had numerous books on genetics and other varying subjects of meagre and great difficulty.

Peter grew increasingly worried with how little he actually knew her. And even more worried when he found himself wanting to know her better. Wanting to be the one who knew her better than all others, the one who knew every little thing about her. How many freckles she really had, what flavour toothpaste she used, what made her smile, what made her cry, summer or winter, what her favourite time of day was, if she had scars, if she had pets as a child. Who was her first love? How did she hold her pen? Had she worn braces or glasses? What was the song stuck in her mind?

He pictured her, her lips curled, her eyes squinted. She had freckles, and lots of them. Her nose was small, like a button. Her playful brown hair. Her skin pale, and flawed. Dark circles beneath her eyes, course eyebrows above. Those eyes... the colours were uncountable, yet he would gladly try. He sighed to himself, glad that Gwen had vanished for the moment, as he felt his cheeks colour. He was in trouble.