Whew, almost to the end! This chapter is mostly set in Episode 12: Intervention, but there are some canon changes I made. They are somewhat minor, and don't affect the story too much. Aunt May, for example, is asleep for most of the time while in the hospital, and Spider-Man briefly passed out after pulling off the symbiote. I imagined it took a lot of emotional and mental energy to get it off, and since it's his first time dealing with it, he probably needed a minute or two of breather. Either way, Falcon shows up about ten seconds after the fact and he's already getting up, so I don't think it weakens the character.

Anyways, I know this was the chapter a few of you were anticipating - I'm looking at you WinterRain36 and Knightmare1986 - you especially wanted to see a certain scene come to fruition, so here it is! Hopefully, you're both still reading this, as well as everyone else who has reviewd in the past :)

Reviews and responses are always welcomed! Enjoy!


Chapter Twenty Eight

Attachment

We are strong.

We are powerful.

We are one.

Falcon shook, dropping to her knees. Through the pounding headache, she opened her eyes and looked down on the city below. Rain pelted off her helmet, soaking through her suit. She shivered, but not because of the cold. The metal of the eagle below her felt so soft, so pliable beneath her fingers. She wanted to clench her fists and watch it crush and crumple beneath her feet.

The Chrysler Building. In the wee hours of the morning, no one was here, no one would noticed Falcon talking to herself, fighting with herself. It's why she landed there in the first place. She needed the isolation, the sheer height to regain what she was surely losing her mind.

Don't fight it, the Voice said, soft and soothing, like her mother's voice when she had suffered a nightmare as a little girl. We are a part of each other, we are stronger together. Why do you want to go? It hurts to be alone.

It was right. Falcon didn't want to let go, but something inside her head wanted to run as far away as possible. It didn't want to secede into the tempting bliss the arms of the Voice offered towards it. They were not the welcoming arms of a friend, but that of a poison. A toxin. Something that would eat her alive, from the inside out.

You're not thinking clearly. The Voice told her, admonishing. Even though it was separate from her mind, Falcon could sense it's emotions, it intentions with absolute clarity. It was disappointed in her. It felt betrayed. I have so much to give you, so much to repay. You have taught me so much about what it is like to live – really LIVE. Love, anger, fear, all the things that make you strong. We can be stronger still. Please. Just accept it.

She could feel it. The quivering muscles, the massive power she held in her hands. So easy to control, so easy to lose it. It would help Falcon. She would never lose control again.

She would never have to be afraid again.

Never again.

But Falcon still could not do it. Even as she could feel it crawling over her arms and legs, she couldn't quite give in.

The Voice was getting impatient. It had waited so long – an agonizingly long time – for just this moment. Falcon was ready, she was weak and needed the bond, and yet she refused it. It didn't like it when she disagreed, when all it wanted was her best interests. Everything it did was for her, all it wanted was for her to be happy and safe. Did she not see that?

Maybe Falcon did, but was seeing something else. She couldn't make the final step, the one where she removed her last boundaries, did away with all morality and conscience that kept her from effectively reaching her goals. That very conscience was keeping her from going through with it completely. Ignore her. She knows nothing, doesn't know how much you want this. How this will be good for us.

Falcon could feel it. She had little willpower left, something that her even conscience couldn't help. She was sick, she was tired, she just wanted to go home. She just wanted her mother back. Because of her conscience, she saved the wrong person, and that person betrayed her. What good was a conscience if it only got her hurt? The Voice never did that. It never would, either. It would take care of her, make sure everything is all right.

There you go. The Voice said with a smile. Falcon didn't feel the cold rain anymore, didn't feel the pain in her fresh cuts and bruises. It melted away, leaving only warmth and comfort behind. We are perfect together, don't you see? Why must you always make it hard on yourself? This was meant for you.

Yes. Oh, this was so much easier. Falcon sighed, letting her head fall back. It covered her skin, a protective sheath from everything that wanted to do her harm. Yes, all it wanted was to keep her safe, keep her alive.

We are not Amelia Fletcher anymore, the Voice told her, triumphant in its victory. It enjoyed the control, the use of her limbs and powers. And who was Falcon to complain? It would keep them in check. And we are no longer Falcon. We are...

"Toxin," she murmured with a smile. She could feel the Voice, in its physical form, enveloping her.

Her red-orange crest turned white – removing the last of her origin, the last of her traitorous namesake. She welcomed the change, the silver-rainbow wings turning as silky and inky black as a raven's. The metal was stronger, her suit tougher. Sentient. Alive. Better.

Toxin wanted to hurt, to kill. She wanted to go back and finish what she started. The White Rose weren't afraid of Falcon, but they had no idea just how ruthless Toxin could be. She wanted to end this petty battle between them.

But she still had unfinished business.

Spider-Man, the Voice spat with jealousy. He will try to stop us. He doesn't understand what we are, what we can be. We must stop him first.

But why be hasty? Toxin wanted to relish in the peace while she still could. She didn't want to get involved in any unnecessary fights, at least not until the time was right. In due time, we will act. But first, we have something to take care of.

OoOoO

In the hospital waiting room, I waited. A small part of me continued to fight off the urge to speak about myself in the plurality – I couldn't very well say that 'we' were going to see 'our' Aunt May when there was only one of me standing in front of the receptionist's desk. My secret identity was still a priority, no matter how much the Voice complained.

It seethed and writhed when I discovered Peter to still not have arrived, to find Aunt May still comatose. It wanted to grab the nearest doctor and slam him into a wall, demand he fix Aunt May right now or else. I have suffered far too long to lose someone else, someone so close to saving only to have them ripped away at the last moment.

Even now, watching Aunt May sleep several hours before the sun would rise, I could not stop thinking about Mom. And Smoke, but mostly Mom. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have fallen for what was so obviously a trap? Why did I have to chose Smoke? What compelled me to save a life not worth saving?

I cried. For a lot of things, but mostly for Mom and the way my life seemed to be taking a downward spiral. The Voice was supposed to help, but all it wanted to do was smash and destroy things. The scientist in me was what kept me from losing myself to my emotions – at the very least, I had to remain composed. I had to keep it in. I just had to.

Peter didn't show up until well after 8 o'clock. School started almost an hour ago but I didn't care. Neither did the Voice; it cared less about school than the thugs I almost killed last night. It meant nothing now.

Although my radar was off, I could sense Peter's approach. His anger, his resentment – how, the Voice didn't tell me. Why he stood out, above all others, I wasn't sure. But even as he walked in, the surge of emotions had me itching and unsettled. It was too much. I couldn't take it. It filled the room, so thick I could almost feel it.

I stood, so abruptly my chair almost fell. I stalked out of the room, Peter frowning at me and my silent exit. No hellos, no formalities. It wasn't like me but I felt no reason to be polite or relay information. When our eyes connected, I felt a surge of anger and scowled. Without meaning to but certainly not regretting it, our shoulders hit each other.

Peter was a lot more solid than I expected, certainly not from a geek who spent most of his time on the computer. Yet the Voice, having become part of my clothing as protection, writhed at the contact. It wished to expand, to prepare for battle. It liked nothing about Peter, and I almost wished to start the fight. In fact, I was already turning around, ready to throw the first punch.

Then the doctor walked in and I unclenched my fist. Another time, then.

As Peter waited in the room, being filled in by the doctor, I waited outside. I briefly considered going to school, but I knew I would only be bored. It was a waste of time – the classes were pointless, and there was no one there I wanted to see.

Several minutes later, Peter walked out again. He didn't quite notice me at first, sitting in one of the chairs with my arms crossed. I had been thinking about what I wanted to say to him, expecting Peter to make the first word, since he hadn't been here in almost two days. When he passed without a glance, I demanded, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?" Peter turned around, surprised to see me there. His face was drawn into a scowl, no doubt upset at what the doctor told him. Aunt May would be fine; it was the bills that would be the problem. They bothered me, too, but not as much as Peter did.

"You heard me," I said, standing up and crossing my arms. I didn't know whether to be insulted he didn't notice me at all or pleased I'd got the drop on him. Maybe a little of both. I noticed he was wearing a thin black shirt – something I didn't even know he owned. How long had he had it? I wanted to tear it off, rip it to shreds. He shouldn't be wearing that. "Where. The. Hell. Were. You?"

Peter tossed his head in irritation, turning back around and stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "Does it matter? I had places to be. Besides, Eddie's already given me the lecture. I don't need it from you, too."

He started to walk away from me, as if that were the end of it. The Voice didn't like that. For that matter, neither did I.

"Hey, I'm not done talking to you!" I shouted, clenching my fists. How dare he dismiss me like that?

I lunged forward and grabbed his arm. I used more strength than necessary, startling Peter. He whipped around, his other hand going to my shoulder in surprisingly adept countermove – only he froze before commencing, for a moment looking startled that he was about to attack.

"Do you know how many people have called, asking where you were?" I demanded, spitting out the words. I couldn't keep the contempt from my tone, couldn't stop the emotion from spilling through. Already I could tell this wasn't going to be a logical argument between two rational and sane human beings. "You vanish off the face of the earth without telling anyone, and you think you can just walk away from that? I waited hours for you to show up, and it's not till twenty-four hours after the fact until you finally do!"

We were starting to attract attention. Other patients and guests were starting to stare and a nurse was edging towards a phone, watching us with wide eyes. Even though I saw this in my peripheral vision, I didn't pay attention. The problem at hand was right in front of me.

"Well, maybe I've been busy!" he snapped, yanked his arm out of my grip. In the back of my mind, I had been worried I'd might leave bruises, but Peter hardly seem fazed, must less hurt. He shook his arm, trying to get the circulation flowing again, throwing me a dirty look as he took a step back. "Because, if it hasn't already occurred to you, there's a gigantic bill to pay, and I'm the only one in the house who has a job! What the hell do you think I've been doing?"

Of course! I felt stupid for not guessing, but pushed it aside almost immediately. That did not excuse Peter from his faults. "So? Is that supposed to make me feel better when you didn't bother to check in with anyone? Eddie and Gwen knew this before you did, you know that?"

"I've got enough things to deal with right now, I have other stuff I need to do," Peter growled, backing off. He gave me a final look, as if daring me to act out in front of the entire hospital. I did not like being challenged. I hesitated, and he smirked, but it held no humor. "Hmph. That's what I thought."

Kill him, the Voice hissed.

That wasn't exactly my intention, but I didn't have too much in mind when I slammed both hands into Peter's chest, uttering an incoherent cry of rage.

"Oof!" he stumbled and fell backwards, but was back up in a second. It was clear in Peter's stance that he did not intend to walk away from this fight. He struck out with his fist, hitting my arms as I brought them up to defend myself. But he was still coming, and I was knocked back as he slammed me with his shoulder.

I heard the gasps, the little screams of alarm. The nurse shouted, "Orderly! Orderly! Break them up!"

We weren't done yet. I regained my balance within the second and swung my own fist. Surprisingly, Peter managed to catch it, but I was still faster. I didn't hesitate to think on his quick reflexes before bringing up my other hand out of the feint, catching Peter across the face.

I hit him hard enough to let go of my hand. I wanted to finish it, but just then two large arms looped around mine, hauling me back with sudden ferocity. I screamed, but I might have already been screaming, I couldn't tell until now. All I could see was red and Peter's face as he was pulled back as well. The orderly who had grabbed him had the misfortune of being shorter. Peter put up a good fight, ready to get back into the fray, but the orderly held on.

The orderlies held us back with straining muscles, trying to keep two surprisingly strong teens from tearing each other apart. The air between us crackled with tension. There was a bloody scrap on Peter's cheek where I had hit him, and I could feel the bruises forming on my arm and chest. Damn, he had quite a punch.

The Voice still wanted to rip his throat out, but even as we panted and fought against the orderlies, I could feel my strength waning. Even Peter seemed to be calming down, if by calming down you mean clenching your fists and shifting your shoulders for another fight. When it seemed clear that we wouldn't try to kill each other again, the orderlies' loosened their grip.

Peter shoved his human restraint away. The orderly grunted as he was slammed against the wall, sliding to the ground in a stunned heap. Peter wiped at his bleeding cheek before giving me a look that could melt icebergs. He sniffed, giving me a look as if by the intervention I had gotten the better end of the fight, and stalked away without a look back.

I could hear the chatter around me, even as Peter disappeared around the corner. Snickering and whispering, a crowd pleased with what they saw; almost disappointed it had been interrupted. They enjoyed the scene, relished in its raw and crude action, the lack of choreography and skill usually seen on TV.

The orderly had let me go some time ago, but I hadn't noticed. I had barely managed to stop myself from tearing after Peter, to finish the fight.

I heard someone chuckle behind me. "Well, you know what they saw. Blood is thicker than water. Heh."

The hell did that mean? I whipped around to find that man who said that, but couldn't pick him out in the crowd. Everyone who was looking at me looked away, as if expecting me to go after them next. The talking ceased and the hall fell quiet. I could sense actually sense the fear in the air. They were afraid of me.

Still panting, I shook my head. What the hell had gotten into me? I had never wanted to hurt someone so bad in my life – and never someone I cared about. I liked Peter – even now, I couldn't find a legitimate reason to hate him. He was family and he had his own issues, so what? I couldn't accuse him of not being perfect. Following Spider-Man around at all hours of the night, that couldn't have been easy. I shouldn't have been so harsh.

But that didn't quell the Voice's bloodlust. I still wanted to hit something, to break something. I couldn't go back to school, not in this state. So easily provoked...I might actually do something I'd regret.

No. No school. If someone there got hurt, then there was no way I could ever forgive myself.

The Gym would have to do.

OoOoO

I went against that punching bag for hours.

No matter where I went, I couldn't avoid the attention. I supposed it wasn't every day those guys got to see a tiny girl hammering a punching bag with unrelenting determination. I imagined some of them to be quite intimidated. Surely the look on my face welcomed no questions to the matter. I didn't care, I wasn't asking for the attention. I just wanted time to myself. Time to think. Time to sort this out.

Wham! Thud!

As exhausted as I felt earlier, I couldn't seem to stop going here. I couldn't stop punching. I wouldn't stop. I wasn't done, I wasn't tired, I wasn't sad yet. Just angry that I let myself act out of control, afraid of what I could've done.

Whumph!

What if the orderlies hadn't gotten there on time? How badly would I have hurt Peter before I finally stopped myself? If I stopped myself? If I had gotten on long enough, would I forget what I was even doing? Would the Voice take over, gleefully finishing the job for me?

Thud!

The Voice had no compunctions towards other human life. I didn't need anyone to tell me that. It was telling me it right now. It was there for me and me only. Anyone who got in the way was fair game as far as it was concerned.

Thump! Whuff!

And it made me scared. Angry that it wouldn't listen to me, but more frightened that I might start listening to it.

Wham!

I couldn't help myself. Whatever it wanted me to do, it felt good doing it. I wanted to do it, even though I knew it was wrong. Like every time someone walked by and splashed water on me when they dunked their water bottle over their heads, I wanted to grab that water bottle with my mind and rip it to a million pieces. It wouldn't be my fault – they should've been more careful.

Whump!

I loved it. I loved the feeling of getting my way. I didn't want that to change. For once in my life, I wanted something good to happen to me. It was even better what it was because of my doing. That triumph, that success. It was the best feeling in the world.

WHAM!

I watched, fist still outstretched, as bag broke beneath my knuckles. Sand exploded from the wound, scattering across me and the floor. It wouldn't stop – like a waterfall it piled up, twenty pounds of punching bag deflating. I heard the catcalls and laughter, but didn't really listen. I just stared at the mess I made, wondering if I had really done that.

"Clean it up, Amy," I heard Danny call. I looked up at him, saw the disapproval on his face. I expected him to lecture me, like he did last time, but the man only shook his head and closed his eyes. "The broom is in the closet. When you're done with that, you can go home."

There seemed to be something silent he implied with that. And don't come back until you've had an attitude adjustment.

That just made me angrier.

I cleaned up like he told me too, but didn't say a word about to anyone else. I was glad that no one tried to approach me, but surprised that no one seemed to care. I was in trouble, didn't they see that? Didn't they see I needed help? How could they not care?

Maybe they did and were too afraid. Maybe it wouldn't matter anyways, because all they had to offer were assurances and empty words. I had bigger stuff to worry about, anyways.

I had to hold back tears, because I could feel the urge to cry again. Cry at the mess I made, cry because everyone was staring and not speaking to me. I didn't hide, I didn't fit in – I was standing out, and everyone was talking about it. Like I was the Freak again.

Freaky Amy. Ugh.

I nearly broke the broom when I threw it back into the closet. A part of me wanted to make it up to Danny, but the Voice said: don't bother. The past is the past. This place was a dump anyways.

I expected Eddie to be waiting for me on his motorcycle outside, as he always did. But today, the street was completely empty. I waited five, ten, twenty, forty-five minutes and he never showed. No gunning engine, no leather jacket. Where the hell was he? On some sort of date? What would he do, take some pretty girl on a joyride on his motorcycle? I couldn't imagine too many people liking the crazy way Eddie drives. Besides, he never mentioned anything like that. He would've told me.

We can't rely on anyone. The Voice told her, scathing and smug to be proven right again. It's every man and woman for themselves. We don't need anyone else.

The anger was back. Even as the sky grew dark, I could see red. Despite everything, I wanted to hurt someone. Not a punching bag, not a lifeless piece of canvass and sand – I wanted to feel and hear their pain, relish in it. Know that someone out there was having a worse day than me. Just to know that I wasn't alone in my helplessness.

The Voice was ever ready with an answer to my problems. For the first time, I didn't reject it.

Find Spider-Man, it whispered, its tantalizing touch inside my head urging me to take flight. After all, he could've saved your mother. He could have saved you. But he didn't – and where are you now because of him?

It was right. Spider-Man was supposed to save the innocent, protect them from harm. But where was he when my mother was taken, when I was thrown out that window? Why wasn't he there to keep my life from falling apart?

I could feel the tears breaking over my cheeks. This was Spider-Man's fault. And he would pay. We will make sure of it.

OoOoO

Sensing him was so easy, Toxin should have done this a lot sooner.

But her timing was absolutely perfect. So perfect, in fact, that she wondered if the Voice had planned this out beforehand.

Even without the Voice's help, Toxin could have located Spider-Man easily through the ruckus he was making. The ringing bell tower of midnight, although it had struck several gongs too late. The Voice drew her nearer and she could already taste victory on her lips. This would be so simple, so easy – Spider-Man wouldn't stand a chance.

Landing within the bell tower, Toxin did not expect to find an unconscious Spider-Man lying on the wooden floorboards. She came here for a fight, not some mercy kill. Stepping over his prone body, Toxin noted he had his old red-and-blue costume back. Hmm, odd. Where did the black suit go? Surely it was nearby. She could sense it, yearning to be whole again...

Ah, there it was...

As Toxin extended a hand to reach for the creeping, crawling black symbiote from its bucket – unceremoniously dumped, in her opinion – she heard Spider-Man groan behind her. Then his startled shout, "No, Falcon, don't!"

"Shut up!" she hissed, swinging her other hand at him. Spider-Man grunted as he was suddenly lifted into the air and slammed against the stone wall, before dropped to the floor in a heap. "That's not my name anymore. You can call me Toxin now."

She felt it – all of it – slide across her body. The symbiote welcomed its reconnection, two parts split for so long. Toxin could already feel the burst in power – saw before her own eyes. Never before had she been able to lift a human body before, never before had she such control over sentient beings. She didn't have to lift them up by clothes any more, have to worry about losing her grip. Everything was hers to command, to do as she pleased. Nothing could stand in her way anymore.

"You have no idea what you're doing!" Spider-Man exclaimed, scrambling back to his feet. Although she could not see his face, Toxin could taste his fear. So funny, so enjoyable. She loved to watch him squirm. "Falcon, I know you're still in there! You have to believe me when I saw this, but that symbiote is evil! It feeds off your negative emotions! You have to let it go!"

"We don't have to do anything!" Toxin shouted, swiping her hand through the air. Spider-Man was tossed aside by an invisible force. However good his supernatural reflexes were, they stood no match against an unstoppable, unavoidable force. "You have no one but yourself to thank for this. After all, if you're the reason we are Toxin."

"You aren't Toxin!" Spider-Man was agile enough to flip around the wall of the bell tower, sticking to the side as she tried to grab him again. He stuck his head around the side, skirting about the outside wall as she went after him. "You're Falcon, you save people's lives! You protect the City!"

"Forget the people!" she spat, clenching her fists and punching the air. The rock of the tower wall cracked and crumbled, shaking the entire building. Toxin could hear Spider-Man's labored breathing, the result of fighting off the symbiote. He hadn't wanted to let it go either, and it had taken its toll. This shouldn't take too long. "I was never in this to protect your stupid City! It was merely a means to an end! I could care less what happened to New York so long as I get what I want!"

Spider-Man cried out as she yanked him back down, pinned by the same invisible force that once meant him no harm. Spider-Man still squirmed though, even as she brought him back inside and slammed him against the wall. Toxin watched as his head cracked against the stone and he flopped against the cold wall, exhausted and injured.

Spider-Man was completely unable to move as Toxin drew nearer. She extended her hand and he winced, expecting another blow. But instead she bended at the knee, rested her hand on his head. For a strange moment, he relaxed, as if this were a motion of comfort or kindness.

But that idea was quickly abated when her fingers tightened and pulled, ripping off the mask that had hidden Spider-Man's expression for so long. "Falcon, no!"

Too late. She had seen his face.

For a moment, Toxin remained absolutely still, staring with her black visor at his face. The Voice in her head couldn't quite comprehend it, but the recently adjoined symbiote was quick to fill in the details. But Toxin didn't need their help in telling her who he really was.

Even though he couldn't see it, Toxin grinned. "Well, well. Of all the people, we should've known it was you, Peter Parker. Who would've thought it was the nerd to be the hero behind the mask? Bravo."

"H-how do you know my name?" Peter stared at her, completely at a loss. It was one thing for someone to see your face, it was another matter entirely when they recognized it. "Wait, do I know you? Who are you? Falcon, tell me!"

"I said!" she stood up and kicked him in the stomach, hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. "that is not my name!"

Even through his coughing fits, Peter squinted up at her. "Not a 'we' anymore, Falcon?"

"Shut up!" she hissed, cursing herself for her own mistake. The Voice wanted to strangle him, but Toxin had better ideas. She chuckled, dropping the mask beside body. Spider-Man/Peter Parker tried to reach for it, but she still had his arms pinned to his body. "You know who would really benefit from this, Peter? Someone else's life you ruined? Imagine what Eddie Brock would do with this kind of information, hm?"

Peter paled, his eyes widening. "You wouldn't."

"Who's going to stop us?" She shook her head, kicking him aside as she made her way to the ledge of the window. She cast one last look at him before unsheathing her black wings. "I was always faster than you."

She didn't stay long enough for him to point out her second mistake. It had been an instinct response, but Toxin knew that if she kept doing as the Voice told her, it wouldn't care. It would stay, and it would relish the anger and hatred of Eddie Brock once he finally understood the one person who was behind all his misery.

And there was only one place where he would be at this hour. Empire State University.

She laughed to herself. This was going to be wonderful.