Chapter 7

Spiderman stood outside of the window, ignoring the biting cold and the snow that fell on his costume. Below him, traffic continued moving at a steady pace as a car suddenly skidded on the ice, causing a fender bender as both occupants of the car emerged, yelling at one another as obscenities and a constant stream of honking ensued. An ocassional tourist would point up at Spiderman, amazed at seeing him in person. Spiderman stood near the window, head peeking in as he looked at the occupant, standing so still that a passing bird mistook him for a statue, landing on him for a moment before Spiderman shrugged it off.

Behind the costume, nobody could see the tears welling up in his eyes, fighting them back as he pounded his fist against the granite wall in frustration. Laying there on the bed was the love of his life, dressed in a simple hospital gown now, with all sorts of tubes attached to her body as her every vital sign and heartbeat was monitored as IV tubes brought her precious medicine.

Spiderman leaned against the wall as he looked at his wife, listening to the steady beat of the heart monitor as he smiled softly, noticing how beautiful his wife was even as Mary Jane Watson was fighting for her life. It was a brave smile as he brought up his hand to wipe away a tear that was forming, that was followed by a soft chuckle as he realized that his Spiderman mask was in the way.

The tear fell down his cheek unhindered as Peter leaned against the wall, quiet in reflection as he listened to the steady beep of the monitor. For each heartbeat MJ had, there followed a beep. That steady beep was the only indication that his wife was alive and so, in some small way, he found the constant beeping comforting. As long as the beeping continued, his wife lived. With each beep, there was hope.

Listening to that beeping, he allowed his thoughts to drift away to the past for a moment as he remain firmly perched upon the window ledge monitoring his wife.

The indelible image was stamped into his mind of the girl standing on his doorstep, giving that winning smile that had stolen his heart so many years ago. This red-haired beauty stood, leaning against the doorframe as she said those words that he could never, ever forget.

"Face it, Tiger." Mary Jane watson had said, hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips, "You just hit the jackpot."

Peter thought back to his expression of shock and surprise as he could only stutter out the words,managing to stammer "You're Mary Jane Watson?" at the same time he tried to close his mouth. MJ didn't meet any of the expectations that he had in his mind, from the moment that Aunt May had suggested the blind date with Anna Watson's niece. In fact, he had quite rather pictured her as a nice girl, with good friends, knows how to knit and can even make homemade soup.

The truth was that Mary Jane didn't fall into any category that he could've imagined. In that moment, everything changed. Before he opened the door to greet Mary Jane Watson, all that he could think of was, "How long is this going to take?" As it turned out, the answer would be a lifetime.

The beeping stopped. With no warning, that steady beep had been replaced with one long beep. Within seconds, this was followed by a steady stream of doctors and nurses in to make sure that beeping resumed. A flurry of frantic activity ensued. It was a testament to how busy they were that didn't notice Spiderman standing at the window.

Commands were shouted throughout the room as that long, slow beeping sound became a hateful sound. Scared and angry, Spiderman resisted the urge to dash into the sterile room, demanding to know what they were doing and what was wrong with his wife. The only reason he didn't is because this was one area that Spiderman couldn't help with.

His powers weren't allowing him to see through the sea of the doctors and nurses fighting to get his wife back to normal. His spider strength or agility certainly couldn't make her heart start beating again, no matter how hard he wanted to. His spider sense certainly didn't warn him of this tragedy befalling his wife. In fact, he was virtually helpless like MJ was. He moved away from the window, saying a silent prayer for his wife as he leaned against the ledge.

It seemed like an eternity before the beeping resumed. In fact, it had been just ten minutes. That same ten minutes Suddenly, he found he was able to breathe normally once again as he peeked into the window. The doctors and nurses all stood nearby, watching for a second as they all breathed a collective sigh of relief and then, one by one they filed out of the room until they were only two left – a doctor and a nurse.

After checking the monitor and the tubing, the doctor moved to the end of the bed, flipping through the the chart at the nurse, whose name tag read Kittiwake, looked up to the doctor and asked softly, "Dr. Stone, can you tell me exactly wrong with her?"

"Well, we don't know.", Dr. Stone looked up as he frowned a bit, "The patient was attacked in her home, but there's only mild bruising, indicating a struggle but that doesn't explain her condition. We did find a needle mark on her neck though, which would suggest a poison of some sort."

"Did they find anything in the blood tests?" Nurse Kittiwake asked hopefully.

"They haven't come back yet." Dr. Stone replied as he scribbled yet another notation on the chart, "But, we're hopeful."

The conversation continued as Dr. Stone and Nurse Kittiwake exited the room, heading to visit other patients undoubtedly as Peter didn't really hear any more as his mind was racing. MJ was poisoned? A million thoughts were swirling through his head, all with the common theme of why somebody would poison MJ, but none of them made any sense at all.

Of course, that would be fitting in with the overall pattern of this day. Nothing about this day made sense at all. MJ lay there in a hospital bed, in a coma. Here he was, unable to visit her in her hour of need because he was the one accused of putting her in there in the first place.

All of those thoughts in his mind came forward to form one common goal: One way or another, he would find out who did this to Mary Jane. When he did, he would make them pay.