While ending the conversation with her doctor's receptionist, M.J. looked
down next to the phone with at a piece of paper that said 'Call Harry' and
his cell number. She furrowed her eyebrows together once she was put on
hold by the receptionist.
'What is this? This isn't my writing . . ." she questioned the piece of torn paper.
Then realization dawned on her . . .
. . . a terrifying realization that could bring her whole world collapsing down around her. No. Not collapsing. Her world would be wounded beyond repair . . .
The young woman gasped, trying not to catch Peter's attention, which transformed into a taxing sigh. When the receptionist came back on the phone, she asked with more urgency then before if she can have an appointment as soon as possible.
Once all was resolved on the phone, she got up and walked over to Peter, who was still looking out over the city.
"Pete?"
"Yeah?"
'I need to tell you something . . .' she thought to herself, but restrained it from becoming words and said, "I got an appointment at one."
By then, she had joined him at his side and only turned her head to talk to him. He regarded her with a gentle smile, "Great, I'll take you then . . ."
"No," she shot quickly, but calmed herself in hopes for Peter not to get suspicious, "No, I rather go by myself."
The hero regarded her awkwardly and slowly, "Okay . . ."
Mary wanted so badly to give Peter an reason for her going to the doctors alone, and one not quite so legitimate but reasonable excuse came out quickly, "I don't know how long it's going to take, so the doctor might think you're an irresponsible father if you running off to save New York."
He sighed, "I guess you're right."
'That worked well,' M.J. breathed in deeply and straightened up, leaning back while holding onto the railing.
That's when she noticed little, miniscule lines of dried blood standing in rows on Peter's back.
"Oh my gosh, did I do that?"
"Do what?" He felt her trace a line tenderly, "Oh. Yeah you did that last night."
"Oh Pete . . . I didn't mean to . . . do they hurt?"
"No not at all . . . well, actually; it's kind of invigorating."
Mary Jane smiled down at him as she slid her palm over to his side and give it a little squeeze, making him jolt up.
"Hey!" He masked a laugh, "How'd you know I was ticklish?"
"Learned it last night," she smiled at the lovable man before her, "Well, I better be going now, my appointment's in thirty minutes and it'll take me at least twenty to get over to the doctor's."
She gave Peter a quick kiss on the lips and said goodbye heading out her bedroom door . . .
'What is this? This isn't my writing . . ." she questioned the piece of torn paper.
Then realization dawned on her . . .
. . . a terrifying realization that could bring her whole world collapsing down around her. No. Not collapsing. Her world would be wounded beyond repair . . .
The young woman gasped, trying not to catch Peter's attention, which transformed into a taxing sigh. When the receptionist came back on the phone, she asked with more urgency then before if she can have an appointment as soon as possible.
Once all was resolved on the phone, she got up and walked over to Peter, who was still looking out over the city.
"Pete?"
"Yeah?"
'I need to tell you something . . .' she thought to herself, but restrained it from becoming words and said, "I got an appointment at one."
By then, she had joined him at his side and only turned her head to talk to him. He regarded her with a gentle smile, "Great, I'll take you then . . ."
"No," she shot quickly, but calmed herself in hopes for Peter not to get suspicious, "No, I rather go by myself."
The hero regarded her awkwardly and slowly, "Okay . . ."
Mary wanted so badly to give Peter an reason for her going to the doctors alone, and one not quite so legitimate but reasonable excuse came out quickly, "I don't know how long it's going to take, so the doctor might think you're an irresponsible father if you running off to save New York."
He sighed, "I guess you're right."
'That worked well,' M.J. breathed in deeply and straightened up, leaning back while holding onto the railing.
That's when she noticed little, miniscule lines of dried blood standing in rows on Peter's back.
"Oh my gosh, did I do that?"
"Do what?" He felt her trace a line tenderly, "Oh. Yeah you did that last night."
"Oh Pete . . . I didn't mean to . . . do they hurt?"
"No not at all . . . well, actually; it's kind of invigorating."
Mary Jane smiled down at him as she slid her palm over to his side and give it a little squeeze, making him jolt up.
"Hey!" He masked a laugh, "How'd you know I was ticklish?"
"Learned it last night," she smiled at the lovable man before her, "Well, I better be going now, my appointment's in thirty minutes and it'll take me at least twenty to get over to the doctor's."
She gave Peter a quick kiss on the lips and said goodbye heading out her bedroom door . . .