The Legacy of a Hero

Chapter Thirty-One

"You really didn't need to walk me home," Heather said for what felt like the fifth time as they walked along the sidewalk.

"You shouldn't be alone right now," Rhi said, pulling her friend closer to her side with the arms they had linked. Mike squeezed her other shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile when she looked up at him.

"Sometimes, I don't think I deserve you two," Heather said honestly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Probably not," Rhi said, purposefully light and playful. "But that's alright, we'll stick around anyway. I'm just really glad you've found someone on the other side of this who cares about you."

"Robin's a good kid," Mike said with the same affection he had when speaking of his own siblings.

"Little punk did still hack my phone," Heather complained, but her words lacked any heat. "I'll have to get him back for that."

"He said he was sorry," Rhi reminded her, "and he picked up the tab. That right there is a gentleman in the making." Heather caught Mike raising his eyebrow from the corner of her eye and the unspoken joke between them made her smile.

All too soon, they'd made it to Heather's building. Staring up at the brownstone, she thought very seriously about spending the night with Rhi. I have to face him eventually, she decided. "Thank you, again, for everything," she said, turning to give her friends a group hug.

"We're always here for you, Heather," Mike said sincerely, surprising her with a brotherly kiss on the head.

"You can call me anytime you want to talk about your dad," Rhi added, wiping at her watery eyes. "Seriously, after the support you gave me when I went through it with Mom, I owe you. We'll do everything we can to help you remember."

Heather gave her a sad smile. I doubt it will help, but… "Thank you. Night guys."

"Night."

Heather took the stairs slowly to her home, internally trying to map out the conversation that lay ahead of her. Peter told Mom he took me to visit someone, but did he explain any further than that? Did he tell her what happened? What am I supposed to say to Harry and Audrey? Harry might be able to understand all this, but Audrey's barely older than a baby. How on earth do you say, 'I'm actually your half sister, my dad is dead and he was your dad's clone' in ASL? My teacher definitely never went over that in class.

Before she was really ready for it, she was in front of their door, her hands shaking as they slid the key into the lock. Opening the door, she wasn't sure what she was expecting to find - screaming, crying, anger - but it sure wasn't the sound of laughter coming from the living room. She closed the door slowly behind her, setting her bag down and following the happy noises through the apartment. She turned the corner and found her brother and sister sitting on the couch with Peter and her mom, watching a movie. Someone had made popcorn, a half empty bowl lying on the coffee table.

Heather stared at the scene of domestic bliss, something hard and cold growing in her gut. "Mom?"

Mary Jane turned her head and smiled at her daughter, shifting Audrey in her arms so the sleepy toddler was still comfortable. "Hi, honey. Do you want to sit down? We're only a little bit into the movie, we can catch you up."

Peter turned to look at her, something like a warning in his face even as he smiled. "Come on and join us, kid."

That cold feeling seemed to swell inside her, and she shook her head. "I'm tired," She heard herself say. "I'm going to bed."

She didn't wait for a reply, and when she finally closed the door of her bedroom, blocking out her siblings giggles, she collapsed on her bed in utter exhaustion. He didn't tell them, she thought, that cold hard thing in her guts slowly snaking its way through her limbs. She pulled a pillow to her chest and hugged it, curling up on her side. She should be angry, and in a way she was angry, but she was also just so tired that the most she could muster was this cold, hard numbness filling her body.

She laid in the dark for a while, exhausted beyond belief but unable to drift off, her thoughts becoming ever tightening spirals. At some point she heard the TV turn off and her family getting ready for bed. Eventually the noise level quieted again and she was sure she was the only one still awake until there was a soft knock on her door.

The thought of speaking, let alone getting up to open the door, seemed to deaden her limbs and she laid in the dark mutely.

After a few seconds, the door opened and Peter stepped inside, clutching something dark in his hands. The flood of anger from earlier filled her again, but having no energy to direct it she just settled for turning her back on him, facing the wall and hoping he would get the point. A moment later, his weight settled onto the end of the mattress. Guess not, she thought bitterly.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see," Peter said slowly, and she sighed impatiently. "But I need you to understand, I never meant to hurt you. Your dad and I… we were friends. Maybe not at the start, but the more he tried to live his own life, strike out on his own path, the more I realized what a good person he was. The only thing we ever really disagreed on was your mom. We both loved her," his voice grew softer, and she found herself paying more attention despite her anger. She focused her enhanced hearing on his voice, blocking out the sounds of the building around them.

"We wanted the best for her but, I think we had different ideas about what that was. I thought it was better to keep her at a distance, to keep her out of danger. He felt like it was better she knew what she was getting into. It was more than that though. I was… scared. Mary Jane wanted a family and that thought terrified me. MJ could keep herself safe, she could even look after Aunt May, but kids?" He shook his head, and something in his voice made her turn towards him. In the dim glow from the window, his eyes looked like they were staring twenty years into the past. "It was a deal breaker. I couldn't in good conscience have children, not with the enemies I have. I think I was so worried about the future that I'd stopped living in the present. Ben wasn't like that. He was one of the most optimistic people I've ever met, and it felt weird to see someone who looked so much like me - who essentially was me - have so much hope."

Peter seemed to remember suddenly that she was there, because he turned and looked in her eyes, sad and remorseful and desperate. "You remind me of him every day. It's torture, sometimes, to look at you and just see him. I promised him, the very last thing I said to him, was that I would protect you. I've tried, Heather, believe me when I say I've tried."

"If this has been you trying, I'd hate to see you when you don't," she murmured icily.

"I know," He nodded. "You deserve better. You deserve to have him here, not me. I thought I could get better with time and practice; that maybe this parenting thing would just, I don't know, click finally?" He paused, "I think… Even though you didn't know why, you always knew that I was the wrong one. I felt like I could never break through that barrier."

"Oh so it's my fault now?" She narrowed her eyes, curling fists into the pillow.

"No! That's not what I meant," He denied, shaking his head. He rubbed his eyes. "I've always been shit at explaining myself."

"Is that why she still doesn't know?" She asked, sitting up in bed so she could glare at him properly. "Because you suck at explanations? You have to tell her the truth! She deserves to know the man she married is dead."

The pain in Peter's face almost softened Heather's heart. Almost. "There's never been a good time."

"Ever heard the phrase, 'no time like the present'?" She asked sarcastically.

Peter rubbed his eyes again, and she could see the bags there were even heavier tonight than they'd been this morning. "I'll tell her the truth. When the time is right."

"By that logic, it's never going to happen," Heather argued. "I swear to god, if you don't tell her, I will."

"No," Peter said, voice suddenly firm. "I need to be the one to do it, it should come from me. I want you to promise me that you won't say anything."

"Why the hell should I promise you that?"

"Because it's my responsibility, not yours," He said and she rolled her eyes, knowing he could see them in the dark.

"If I hear you say that stupid phrase one more time, I'm going to strangle you," She growled, gripping her temples against the headache she could feel beginning to pound there. "You're so fixated on keeping the world safe, of living up to your 'responsibility' to everyone else, that you never think about us! Aren't we supposed to be your responsibility, too? Isn't that what it means when you become a parent, you accept caring for your children whenever they need it, even when it's not convenient for you?"

"It's not always that simple. You're still young, Heather, there's a lot you still haven't learned," He placed a gentle hand on her arm, but she jerked out of his grasp.

"Don't touch me," she growled. "And don't give me that 'you're too young to understand' bullcrap! I'm almost seventeen, you got your powers at the same age. You don't get to act like it was so different for you."

Peter let out a long-suffering sigh and gave her a small smile. She bristled, knowing he was placating her. "Okay, maybe it wasn't. But you have to appreciate that seventeen was a long time ago for me. Listen," he continued, obviously changing tracks. "It's been a long couple of days for both of us. Try to get some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

"With Mom," Heather insisted.

"Yes, with your mom," He relented. He started to stand up, then seemed to remember the item in his hands. Now that he was closer, she could see it was the worn-in backpack he'd been carrying earlier in the day. He smoothed out the fabric with his calloused hands. "This was Ben's. I dug it out of the back of the closet earlier today. I meant to give it to you at the cemetery, but… well, you needed time," he smiled even as her mind flashed back to her screaming at him to leave. A flash of embarrassment tempered her anger, and she dropped his gaze to stare at the backpack. He handed it over carefully and she took it.

"Good night, Heather," He said, looking like he wanted to squeeze her shoulder, but stopping his fingertips just short. His hand curled into an awkward fist and he left, closing the door behind him.

Heather very slowly unzipped the backpack, a fluttering feeling of unease and excitement filling her. Inside were a handful of spiral bound notebooks, almost filled to the brim with neat block handwriting, some pencils and pens, and at the very bottom was a red and blue costume.

She adjusted her black out curtains to let in more light from the street, examining the suit. The whole body was a solid bright red, and there was a blue sleeveless hoodie with a modified version of the spider logo on the front. It was clearly a little more homemade looking than Peter's, but the fabric seemed to be made of that same style of flexible kevlar as his.

She held the suit close and pressed her face to it, breathing deeply. The suit mostly smelled like her parents' closet, but beneath that was an extremely faint scent of smoke and men's cologne that she was sure she could never smell without her enhanced senses.

A memory niggled at her thoughts - just the faintest whisper of heat on her skin, of choking on smoke, clinging close to someone, arms wrapped around her protectively. She reached for the memory desperately, but it faded just as quickly.

"No," She whispered, hugging the suit to her chest. "Please, come back. Please…"

When Heather was awoken the next morning by bright sunlight streaming through the window, the suit was still clutched in her hands, like a security blanket.

She folded it carefully and laid it on the end of the bed. She then reached under the bed and felt around until she found her memory box. Pulling it out, she grabbed the scrapbook out and flipped back through the newspaper clippings. It took her a couple of minutes, but she finally found the page she was looking for.

A very grainy photo, clearly taken in the rain and at a distance, of Spiderman grappling midair with another man in a similar suit, this one featuring a sleeveless hoodie. She traced the figure with a light touch, her heart clenching in her chest. There was very little news coverage of Ben's alter ego, Scarlet Spider, during his stint protecting the city. This photo wasn't even taken by Peter, but was credited to another photographer from The Bugle. She flipped through the pages, hoping to find another article or photo, but there was nothing.

In a flash of irritation, she threw the book to the end of the bed, knocking the backpack onto the floor. The notebooks and pencils scattered across her floor, and she took a moment of breathing deeply before she got down to start collecting them back up. As she picked up the second notebook, this one having flipped open, her eyes scanned the writing automatically and froze.

Her name was written inside in several places. She flipped to the front page of the notebook and found a small inscription noting the dates that were written there.

Journals, she realized, He wrote journals.

She curled up against the bed and grabbed the oldest notebook from the pile. With knees supporting the journal as she read through the entries, each one dated a few weeks apart from one another, she took in her father's writing hungrily.

My name is Ben Reilly... Or it's Peter Parker. It sort of depends on who you ask? I don't know how to start this, to be honest. A good friend of mine said if I wrote out my thoughts it would help me sort my feelings. I don't know if they're right, but it's not like I can tell my life story to a professional, there's too much at stake.

Alright, so, my name is Ben - because it's the name I'm choosing, not the one I was given by the Jackal - and I'm a clone. I think...that part is a little unclear. I don't really want to get into that today, it gives me a headache to think about.

The original guy (probably) is Peter. He's a nice guy I think, even if he does seem a little lost. Who wouldn't be? We're still trying to sort everything out, and Peter has been a little cagey with me, but I can hardly blame him. I think we could be friends if he gave me a chance. We both need all the allies we can get.

Alright, I think I'll call it for today. I don't know if I'll keep up with this, but the doc says it could help and I'm going to trust that they're right.

I don't get it, Peter won't talk to me. I mean, if there's anyone who should be able to understand him, it would be me right? He won't even talk to Mary Jane and she's, like, kind of the best? I know it's wrong, but I adore being around her. She's smart, kind, confident… She knows what she wants out of life and she goes for it. Then there's me and Pete, constantly plagued by self doubt. What a trio we make. Well, we would be a trio, if she knew there were two of us. Peter hasn't told her the whole story, which I think is bullshit, but I'm trying not to start a fight with the guy.

Alright, I can't take it, I have to say it even if I'm the only one who will ever read these. I'm in love with Mary Jane. I tried to fight it for so long but I just can't deny it anymore.

But, she's in a relationship with Peter. Do I have any right to say something, when I've already taken so much from him? I mean, they both seem happy, so I should be happy for them… right?

The thing is though, I'm not. I'm jealous. I can't tell if it's a good thing that I can admit to being jealous, or if it would be better if I didn't feel this way at all.

I don't think Peter is good for her (which, again, could be the jealousy talking). I hate how much he holds back from her. I understand his reasoning. He doesn't want her to worry if she doesn't have to. But I mean… okay if you see someone about to walk into traffic because they're blind or distracted, you shout to warn them or push them out of the way, right? It's just the right thing to do. I don't see why this is any different.

But Mary Jane isn't my girlfriend and I don't have any right to meddle in their relationship. I'll just try and push Pete a little harder to talk with her, and I'll keep my distance. I can try, right?

Yeah the whole distance thing? That didn't work. When Pete's otherwise occupied, I find ways to spend time with Mary Jane. I'm really careful to make sure I don't catch myself in a lie. It's not easy, but, wow it's worth it. MJ is… I mean, amazing feels like it doesn't cover it.

I don't know the first thing about acting or Broadway, but I could listen to her talk about it for hours. She's so passionate about her craft and it's inspiring and adorable and… okay, I'm rambling. She loves hearing about my classes too. Oh, I guess I didn't mention, but I decided to finish out Peter's classes at ESU.

At first, I started attending to cover for him so he didn't fall behind, but as the weeks have gone on, and he's gotten more and more wrapped up in his hunt for the Jackal, I started to really enjoy it. I've always loved science. That's why Peter - or me? It's still unclear who's the original even after all these months - declared his (my) major as biochemistry when he (we?) were still freshmen.

Originally, the idea had been to find a job in a laboratory, maybe with Oscorp or Stark Industries, but the longer I spend in the classroom and the library I just feel… I don't know, at home? I'm making money by tutoring, but I think I'm going to go for a position as a teacher's aide or something. Who knows? Maybe I'll be a professor someday.

I mean, as long as I don't melt into a puddle of goop like some of the other clones have. That image is definitely still giving me nightmares, I don't know how Peter's coping with it. I want to ask him, but anytime I ask anything about the Jackal or what we found in that abandoned lab, he just shuts down on me. How am I supposed to help him when he won't talk to me?

The Jackal is dead, and this nightmare is finally over. I'm so relieved, but I can tell Pete isn't. He thinks it's a trick - one final grand escape plot. He keeps saying to be vigilant and that the Jackal will return, but honestly? I think all the stress of the last year has just finally gotten to him. He's retreated into a shell. He's paranoid, snappy, he and MJ fight constantly, which makes it even harder for me to see her when I'm constantly having to apologize for him.

I suggested we take a break for a while, find somewhere safe to go and just really talk about everything, but he refused. He thinks the moment he lets his guard down, the world will come crashing down on his shoulders. I just don't understand when he turned into such a pessimist. We have the same memories - I know everything he's gone through intimately, but I don't view the future with the same dark outlook he does. Maybe it's because… whenever I'm with MJ, all I can feel is hope.

I can't take it anymore! Lying to MJ is the worst feeling in the world, and I refuse to be a part of it. I told Peter either he tells her the truth or I will. We had a fight, and it got… ugly. He started accusing me of being a spy for the Jackal and it's like the last year never happened, we're back to square one with each other. I didn't like giving him a black eye, but he left me no choice. He attacked me with everything he had - I was only defending myself! Doesn't make me feel any less guilty, but I could have done a lot more damage if I wanted to and he knows it.

Peter's spiraling and he needs help, but he doesn't trust anyone. I tried to get him to talk with me, with MJ, with Aunt May, heck any of the Avengers would have sufficed, but he wouldn't listen.

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I have to make a decision soon. This can't go on forever. It's not fair to MJ, or me, but I'm more worried about her. She deserves someone who trusts her with the truth. Whether that person ends up being me or someone else doesn't matter.

Peter has finally lost it. That's the only explanation. He told me that he's finally figured it out. He's the clone, he's sure of it. I'm… I don't know, maybe he's right? It feels like such a moot point by now. What does it really matter? We're both people, we have our own thoughts and feelings independent of each other. Honestly, if he wasn't so insistent on being a stubborn paranoid ass, I would be happy to call him my long lost brother and let it be. Nothing is ever that simple though.

Because he thinks I'm "the real Peter" he says he doesn't belong with Mary Jane, that we should be together. A part of me thinks that's stupid and crazy… but another secret part of me doesn't want to argue with him.

I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, whether it's five minutes or fifty years. I hate myself for thinking it but, I don't think he deserves her. Do I, though?

This shouldn't be a decision between just Peter and myself. Mary Jane should get to make her own choice. I will admit, I'm worried she'll reject us both. We've been lying to her for more than a year, she has every right to never speak to either of us again. If she does feel that way… I can't say it won't break my heart, but it will still be her choice to make, and I'll respect it.

Peter's disappeared - I think he's gone underground to search for the Jackal. At least I hope that's why I can't find him. He's not in any of our usual haunts, and no one says he's seen him - me - in the last week. With him gone, it's like a weight lifted off my chest. I didn't even realize how much his stress and paranoia was rubbing off on me. That probably sounds terrible, but for the first time in what feels like ages, I feel like I can actually breathe.

I told her. Mary Jane knows everything now. She was angry, of course, I knew she would be. After she slapped me (which hurt but I deserved it) she kissed me. That was wonderful, and confusing, and confusingly wonderful.

She was mad we'd lied for so long, but now that everything was out in the open, she admitted she had a hunch something weird was going on. She says she could tell a difference between us - I figured it was because he was always fighting with her and I wasn't, but she says there was more. We seem identical to me, but she says… I mean, I guess if there's anywhere I can get personal it's in these entries. She said I was more gentle, less pessimistic, maybe even younger in a way. It reminded her of how Peter was when they first met. I think it was the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.

We're still searching for Peter, of course, neither of us wants to leave him out in the cold when he needs help. But in the meantime, she wanted me to move into the apartment with her. She says she gets lonely at night all by herself. I'm sleeping in the second bedroom, even if I want to be with her, but I don't think either of us is ready for that. For now, we're focusing on finding Peter, and hopefully we'll figure us out along the way… I mean, if there even is an 'us', but a guy can dream.

"Heather? Honey, what's wrong?" Mary Jane stood in the open doorway, hand still on the knob. She frowned as she took in her daughter's red pinched face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes flicked to the notebook on Heather's lap then to the costume folded on the end of the bed. "Heather?"

"You knew?" Heather whispered, clutching the notebook to her chest so tightly the aged paper crinkled in protest.

"Knew what, honey?" MJ slowly approached, sliding down to sit on the floor beside her. She gently wiped her daughter's tears away with her thumb, cupping her cheek. "Tell me what's wrong, Heather."

"You knew about Ben and Peter?" Heather sniffed, wiping her wet cheek with the heel of her palm.

MJ looked confused for a beat, then her face filled with understanding. "That your father's name is really Ben Reilly, not Peter Parker? Of course I know sweetie. He told me so a long time ago, before we even got engaged. But we had to keep up pretenses, so he started using Peter's name. And then," she grimaced, "Well, then Peter died, but so much time had passed by that point that it seemed ridiculous for Ben to start using his old name again."

Now Heather felt confused. She'd been sure her mother had no idea who Ben was. But her father's journal said he'd told her the truth. So why did Mary Jane sound like she thought Ben was still alive?

"Everything okay here?" Peter asked, poking his head in.

"We're okay," Mary Jane reassured him. "I told you we should have explained the name change years ago when the kids were little. I know the story is a lot to take in, but you know Peter wanted us to be happy. He wouldn't have cared that you kept using his name, Ben."

"I know," Peter said smoothly, but Heather caught the split second of panic in his eyes. "But still, it was confusing for us, and trying to explain it to the kids would be-"

"Fuck you!" Heather shouted, jumping to her feet and surprising both of them.

"Heather!" Mary Jane said sternly, "Language!"

Heather ignored her mother, clutching the journal with one hand while the other pushed Peter back a step. "You're a coward, Peter! You didn't tell her who died in the warehouse - you let her think you were her husband! What is wrong with you?" She gave him another shove, this one pushing him into the wall.

"Stop it!" MJ grabbed her daughter's arm. "What has gotten into you? What are you talking about?"

Heather's tears had turned hot and angry, and she struggled to take in a deep even breath for a moment. "He's not Ben. Dad died ten years ago in that warehouse. Peter couldn't save him-" she stopped as a sob wracked her shoulders.

Understanding dawned in MJ's eyes. "Peter?" She asked, looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time.

Peter opened and closed his mouth several times before he found his voice. "I - yeah, MJ… it's me."

MJ slowly shook her head, pulling Heather back by the grip she still had on her arm, but much more gently than before. "All this time?"

"I'm so sorry, Mary Jane," He said, voice thick with remorse.

He moved to touch her shoulder and she jerked back, pulling Heather to her chest protectively as her daughter continued to cry. "I think you should go," She said firmly, even as tears stung her own eyes.

"I-"

"Now, Peter," she repeated more harshly.

He sighed and backed up. "I really am sorry," he said, looking at both of them in turn before turning and walking away.

Mary Jane didn't move until she heard the front door open and close shut. "Baby, are you okay?" She murmured, cupping Heather's cheek to turn her face towards her.

Heather shook her head miserably.

"Oh, honey," MJ pulled her into a tight hug, a tear slipping down her cheek.

AN: It is at times like these that I seriously consider changing the title of this story to "A Series of Unfortunate Events... but like, not that one", I think Lemony Snickett would approve. I would have to guess that most authors have a moment of 'is this too much angst? Hmm, maybe just a little more? *accidently drops the entire bottle into the bowl* ...oops' So um, sorry? If you're still here for this hot mess though, thank you. We're getting closer to the end, I honestly feel like there are less than ten chapters left. Reviews are always appreciated, have a great weekend friends ^_^