A/N: If you're at all squeamish about the whole labour and birth thing, you might like to skip the rest of this story. Don't say I didn't warn you!
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Chapter 2:
As he swung fast through the air high above the streets and avenues of Manhattan, Spider-Man hoped he would be on time; he also hoped that the emergency services will have dealt with the trouble and he could see Mary-Jane and then head back home to Aunt May. She had been very understanding about his sudden need to depart - she had got Peter to pass her the phone while he changed, so that she could call Anna, who luckily was home and had promised to come over at once.
Peter was all suited up as Spider-Man when she had finished her call, and he stood in front of her, feeling somewhat awkward. This was the first time she had seen him as Spider-Man, and known that it was her nephew underneath that mask.
She regarded him for a silent moment; Peter couldn't tell what she was thinking, her face was expressionless. Then she shook her head.
"It's hard to believe it's you. You look so different…"
"Yeah well, webbing does that to you - it has a very slimming effect."
"Silly, that's not what I meant," she smiled. "Now shoo and help Mary-Jane and that poor woman, and I want to hear all about it when you get back!" She raised her voice as Peter leapt up the stairs to leave through his bedroom window, like he had so many times before.
Flipping onto a roof top on West 85th, Spider-Man surveyed the scene before him.
A fresh dump of snow the night before had left the streets still hazardous. On his way, he had noticed that traffic was even more congested than normal, but this part of 85th Street was strangely quiet. And then he saw why. A fire hydrant had been damaged, whether on purpose or by accident it was hard to tell, and the resulting spew of water had solidified to a huge sheet of ice right across the street. Cones and road barriers had been erected, warning signs placed at either end of the stretch of street between West End Ave and Broadway, but no other action to clear the ice was evident. Not many pedestrians were around either, but a few children were taking the rare opportunity to slide on the ice with make-do toboggans from cardboard boxes, having great fun. Peter grinned briefly at the sight, then turned his attention to the Wallis Building across the street.
It was a small eight storey apartment block, built at the beginning of the Twentieth century, all red brick and iron facade. At this time of the day, it was not at all evident that the power was out. The building also appeared to be deserted; occupants mainly out at work, or shopping, Spidey guessed.
Spider-Man shot out a webline and quickly reached the roof, and more importantly, the elevator conning. There was a small, locked door at the side, used to give maintenance workers access to the single elevator. Without hesitation, Spider-Man punched through the lock, pulled the door open and entered. It was pitch black inside the elevator shaft in contrast to the outdoors; he crawled in a short way down, then stopped briefly to let his eyes adjust to the small amount of daylight coming in through the door above him. As far as he could tell - and he could only just see the top of it - the elevator car seemed to be stuck about forty feet down.
A groaning sound, which grew in intensity to a high pitched screech, suddenly filled the shaft, echoing eerily as it died away. Spider-Man quailed slightly at the noise.
"Man o man, I sure hope that's old Phil Urich, or maybe even Shriek, but I don't think I'll be so lucky…" he murmured to himself.
But he recovered and crawled down swiftly, feeling his way over protruding outcrops of concrete and brick, noting the doors to the floors on the right-hand side of the shaft, and counting them.
As he reached the car, he had worked out it had stopped half-way between the fourth and fifth stories. So; it would be slightly more difficult to get them out, than if it had stopped at a floor, but not too bad. He gently jumped from the wall onto the top of the elevator car, and as his fingers found the edges of the trap door panel and proceeded to pull it off, he saw a dim light from inside. He crouched down and poked his head through, just as a loud scream issued from one of the two frightened faces below.
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Mary-Jane drummed her fingers on the floor; she hoped that Peter would arrive soonest. Although she was no trained medic, she knew enough about pregnancy and labour to know that Amelia was advancing through the first stage of labour pretty quickly. In between contractions, Amelia, a dark-haired, olive-skinned woman, admitted that she had been having niggles all morning, but had thought they were only Braxton-Hicks, 'practice' contractions, not the real thing. Now though, there was absolutely no doubting it.
Amelia's fingers tightened again around MJ's own as she felt another one coming on. MJ wiped at her brow with a damp hanky; now she knew why she kept all that junk in her large purse.
"You're doing well honey, you're doing just fine," she told Amelia, as she watched her face contort with the pain, and another moan start.
This was bringing back painful memories of her own, of the baby she had given birth to and lost; worse than that, they hadn't had May's body returned to them, they had never been able to put a closure to their grief. Although she tried not to show it, Mary-Jane felt scared and inadequate, alone with this woman. What if the baby was stillborn too? With no proper medical care, anything could happen. 'I don't think I could cope..' thought MJ.
The grip on her hand relaxed and loosened. MJ helped Amelia up.
"Try moving around a bit," she said, remembering her birth classes. "I know there's not much room in here, but it's got to be better than the back of a taxi," she joked.
"Thanks." Amelia gave her a wan smile and started pacing while MJ fished through her purse, searching for anything else useful. She was so grateful when the little emergency light had came on in the elevator; at least this wasn't all happening in the dark. 'Hot water and towels would be real nice right now.' She pulled out a purse pack of paper tissues and placed them next to her water bottle. Her pashmina was already laid out, ready as a receiving blanket should it come to that.
Just then, she felt the elevator move slightly; had it started working again? No. MJ tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling close above them in anticipation and hope.
Amelia came over to Mary-Jane and held her hand, then changed her grip and grabbed both MJ's forearms, as yet another contraction began. She looked up in panic as with a scraping noise a ceiling panel was removed and a pair of reflective white eyes peered down at them. She screamed, a mix of fear and pain.
"Spider-Man!" Mary-Jane wanted to jump up and hug him in relief.
He lowered himself through the gap and jumped down lightly, touched MJ's shoulder in acknowledgment.
"Which one of you wanted to go to hospital by Spidey ambulance?"
Amelia, hearing the note of happiness in MJ's voice, and the flippancy in Spider-Man's, calmed down once her contraction had passed.
"I… I don't think I'll get there in time…" she panted, exhausted, "They're coming closer together."
"She's right," MJ turned to face Spider-Man, "And the cold out there…"
"Tell me about it! I wish I had a winter-weight outfit! What can I do to help?"
"We need towels, blankets - warmth. The worse thing would be if the baby got too cold after birth. Hot water too, if there is any. And a piece of string and scissors."
Spider-Man grimaced under his mask, but nodded, and prepared to leave.
"Wait," said Amelia, "There's a like a sick-bay in the basement. Some of the tenants in the past have been sick and elderly…"
"Right. I'll be back soon. Just hang in there, O.K?" He sprang up and through the hole in the ceiling in one fluid motion and was gone.
Amelia looked at Mary-Jane. "Will he be able to help? Will he be back in time?" she asked.
MJ smiled comfortingly at her, "He'll be back before you know it."
She hoped she'd be right for once.
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