Her finger taps impatiently on the rubbery surface of the bed as the man in the white coat slides the contraption across her lower abdomen.

The monitor displays a river of black water with little blue splotches shine through the darkness. A bit of hope begins to lighten her each time the blue flashes onto the screen, but the blue only seems to appear than disappear within seconds.

Each time this happens, the doctor utters a curse and tries to reexamine the area that exhibited promise. After fifteen minutes, the blue splotches finally connect to form the silhouette of a beautiful infant.

The doctor smiles and relief and fiddles with the keyboard, clearing the pixelated image. He then presses a few more buttons, but something about if facial expression tells everyone in the room that it comes to no avail.

He asks the nurse to hold the device in place as he looks closer at the monitor, presses several keys, and checks the speakers to ensure they're intact. Without another word, he leaves the room as worry settles into everyone's heart.

"Everything's fine," says the nurse, "just some technical difficulties."

Gwen nods, but there is distrust in her eyes. Deep down, she feels that it's more than some computer issues.

The doctor reenters with another man in a white coat, both displaying concern as they quickly ambulate over to the computer next to me.

"Did you say that you were ten weeks along?" asks the doctor.

"Well," says Gwen, "Monday will be ten weeks... it's still nine."

The doctors sigh in regret and turn to the young couple.

"There's not heartbeat, Gwen," begins the doctor, "sometimes these things just happen, but we don't know why."

Of course, both Peter and Gwen knew exactly why, but confessing may get them into trouble.

Gwen nods as a tear falls from her cheeks. Peter places his hand on her shoulder as he, too, fails to hold back his tears.

However, his tears are not only tears of sadness. They're tears of anger.

Peter is angry. No, he is livid.

He's livid at letting himself impregnate Gwen in the first place, livid at Gwen for not remaining in the bathroom as he had instructed her to do, but most of all he is livid that Harry Osborn is his worst enemy.

Harry was once his friend.

He even attempted reconciling with him that fateful day. But nothing can extinguish the flames of betrayal, and nothing can quench the thirst for revenge... except for retaliation.

And that is exactly what Harry intended to do. Little did he know that he already did.

So, as Peter and Gwen sat alone in the room sobbing after the doctors and nurses left, Peter knows that Harry is the enemy.

Gwen's POV

The pungent smell of whiskey and smoke charge into my nose as we step into the cab.

"Where to?" says the driver with a strong accent.

Peter replies to the driver our new address, having just moved last week.

So much has changed in the past few weeks: Aunt May recently moved to a new apartment complex. For the most part, we were relieved that she was safe; that Harry is clueless as to her whereabouts.

But sentiment crept in slowly as the last boxes were unpacked in her new place; after all, she and Ben had lived there for 37 years together, 13 of which with Peter. In the end, it was sad to see them leave their home after being the for so long. But so many things are changing so quickly, it's almost as if there's no time to try being sad about the past leaving.

Peter and I moved, too, just on the other side of Central Park. I knew that neither I nor he could continue living in my old apartment, but that was home; I grew up there, I shared my first kiss with Peter there (and some other things), and I planned on raising my own family there with Peter. But, the risk of Harry returning, as he always does, outweighed the possibility of staying.

As the cab speeds down the street, I stare out the window with glassy eyes. Longing to hear my mother's voice saying "it'll be OK" and seeing her give me a reassuring smile. But, due to further complications with my grandmother's cancer, they've made England their permanent residence.

I remember the day I told my mother the news of the baby. Her voice seemed shocked at first, but immediately turned to joy as we cried tears of happiness together on the phone. But there will be no tears of happiness; not today, not tomorrow, and not in nine months.

"My baby is gone" I think to myself.

My baby is gone.

The cab suddenly comes to a stop as he pulls to the curb of our apartment. Peter hands him the cash and reaches for my hand as he steps out of the vehicle. I follow behind, our fingers intertwined, as we walk towards the lobby doors.

I should have ultrasound photos in my hands.

I should have joy bursting out of my heart.

I should have my baby. But I guess that's not how the world works. Not when Harry Osborn's in it.

As Peter and I open the door to our little home, I solemnly stare at the extensive amounts of boxes cluttering the space. Only the living room is left to unpack, but I can't focus. My mind runs aloof as I aimlessly wander through my new home. It's actually a really nice place to live for a very affordable price, but I feel as though I left all my memories on the other side of Central Park.

If I had just stayed in my taxi that fateful day on the bridge, I could be in England with my family, going to Oxford, meeting new friends, not worrying about my new powers or my miscarriage, or Harry. I'd be safe...

But I wouldn't be happy.

I make my way to our bedroom and plop myself onto the bed, feeling tired, deflated, and depressed. I look over at the name tag the sits on Peter's nightstand. He works as a senior photographer and editor for the Daily Bugle. Despite his feud with J.J., he was promoted when the news of my pregnancy surfaced. I don't like to think of it as a pity promotion, but if it puts food on the table every morning, noon, and night... I'm satisfied!

I am currently working a part time job at a genetics lab near here. I do similar things I did for Dr. Connors a couple years ago, but I finally can receive a paycheck for my work.

I'm putting the pieces of my life that shattered into a million pieces that night at the clock tower back together again, but after today I feel like I dropped it again.

I know everything will be OK soon, but right now, no amount of optimism can lift my spirits. Like my mother always said "It's OK to cry."

It's OK to cry. So, I let myself cry away my pain.

Peter's POV

Night slowly falls upon the city, yet the lights still shine brightly through the dark.

My heart aches for Gwen, for myself, but most of all... for my sweet baby that I never got to meet.

I need to clear my head.

I quietly slide the window in our bedroom up and slip into my red and blue costume. Without a noise, I hurl myself from the fire escape and swing away from my worries, even though they'll be back when I return.

I glide through the city for what seems like hours as I make my way back to Gwen. I land on the fire escape once again and place my fingers on the window... and that's when I hear it.

The clanking of metal rings from behind me as I slowly turn my masked head towards the source of the noise. A woman in a black, skin-tight suit stands before me. She has hair as white as snow and lips as red as blood. She wears a mask that only shields her eyes to protect her identity.

"A black cat has just crossed your path... Peter Parker," says the woman.

And I know exactly who she is: Felicia Hardy.

A/N:

Wow, I suck at updating! Sorry for not posting in a while, but I'm NOT finished with this story yet! Thank you to all my followers and favoriters, and I hope you remain loyal to me as the story unfolds. I promise to be regularly updating, but probably not close together (expect a new chapter every few weeks or so). Remember to Favorite, Follow, and Review!

In Christ,

The Exceptional Author