Spider-Who? Chapter 46, a spider-man fanfic

Chapter Forty-Six

Assumptions could be a dangerous thing.

For example, he assumed that he would always have Mr. Stark as a guide - to help him to become a hero in his own right. To go to in order to get advice or when things got too difficult to handle on his own. Somewhere along the way, Peter had come to see Mr. Stark as his own personal safety net, there to literally catch Peter whenever he happened to fall.

But Mr. Stark was gone now… they would no longer be able to exchange witty banter or work together in his shop ever again. Mr. Stark would no longer be able to bail him out of any of the trouble that Peter would inevitably cause.

He also assumed right after he first came back from being dusted, that despite how everything had turned out on Titan, that life would somehow return to a semblance of normalcy. That he would return to school, play video games with Ned and Harry, connect with Mr. Stark on occasion, and meet Mary Jane at Delmar's after school. But nothing about his life now was remotely familiar to him.

And finally, he had assumed that Mary Jane Watson would reappear safe and unharmed in Italy if she happened to be one of the dusted… and if she hadn't been? Then he assumed that she would be safe in New York, five years older and living her dream life as a model, moving on from any thoughts of Peter Parker in the process... That wouldn't have stopped Peter from showing up at her doorstep, flowers in hand, as he tried to convince her that age was just a number, especially since he was just on the cusp of being seventeen and legal. Because he had foolishly assumed that a potential five-year age difference would be the most difficult scenario that he would have to overcome with Mary Jane post-Thanos.

He had assumed wrong.

Never in his wildest nightmares did he ever think that Mary Jane would end up missing.

"Wha-What do you mean she's missing?!" Peter rasped out. The world around him was spinning, honing in his focus on Annabelle Watson's face as he waited for her answer, hoping against all hope that she would deny her previous statement. That she would, in fact, tell him that Mary Jane was actually home and safe in her apartment.

"She hasn't called at all since all of the dusted came back…" Annabelle Watson shuddered as fat tears escaped her eyes, confirming Peter's worst fears. "I-I've waited days to hear from her, and nothing. Five years ago- I assumed… I assumed that she was one of them when I didn't hear from her. Now, I'm not so sure that she was dusted at all. What if- What if something terrible had happened to h-"

"No… no!" Peter anguished as he interrupted. Not Mary Jane… not her too! He couldn't handle this. He couldn't breathe. He fell to his knees, doubled-over, and started to dry-heave. There was nothing in his stomach to throw up. He still hadn't really eaten anything in over a week, being too plagued by grief. Instead his stomach clenched painfully around nothing as his body's natural response was still to hurl.

"Peter!" Aunt May gasped as she ran up behind him, her hand immediately stroking his back - trying to be comforting. But nothing could comfort Peter in that moment. The only thing that could make things right was if Mary Jane walked through that door right then. Happy. Alive…

That was when something snapped in his mind. It was bound to happen since his mind had already been fragile before he heard about the news of Mary Jane being- No. Mary Jane was going to be fine. She had to be. Peter was going to ensure it. She couldn't be dea- his thoughts broke off as he forced the ugly idea out of his head.

Mary Jane will be fine.

Mary. Jane. Will. Be. Fine.

With his whole body still shaking, he looked up at Annabelle and locked gazes with her. His jaw was set stubbornly now as she peered down at him from her seat, completely shaken to the core as she sobbed quietly. At some point, a cold sweat had broken out all over his body, and he could feel his eyes blaze with both craze and purpose. He must've looked wild and manic to her onlooking gaze.

Only taking a moment to compose himself and to swallow down the bile that was still in his throat, Peter shuffled closer on his knees toward her and took her hands in both of his. He didn't break eye contact as he solemnly swore to her, "I promise… I'm going to find Mary Jane and bring her home."

Annabelle blinked at him. Her tears slowed as she peered down at him in blank confusion. "No offense, Peter dear… but what can you do? I already called the Italian police and they opened an investigation, but they warned me that there was little chance of finding her now. They are so busy with the dusted having returned and the trail on Mary Jane's disappearance may have gone cold-"

"None of that will be an issue for me," Peter interrupted her horrible speech, his expression earnest. He could only pretend in his mind that Annabelle Watson had somehow fallen prey to vile conspiracy theories… it was the only way to keep himself sane.

Mary Jane is fine. She had to be.

Repeating the mantra in his mind, Peter then took a deep breath and willed for the nanotechnology of his new spider-suit to form into place. Behind him, he heard his Aunt May gasp as his secret was revealed to the older woman before him. But Peter paid her no mind. He no longer cared - the importance of his secret identity could hardly compare to the importance of Mary Jane Watson. When the last of the nanotechnology snapped into place, Peter gazed up at Annabelle through the lenses in his spider-mask. "I can assure you, I'm very capable."

Annabelle Watson's eyes were the widest that he had ever seen them to be - and he's known her ever since he was seven years old. One thing that he's learned about the woman before him over the years was that not much could shock her. She was too brazen, too bold. But that assessment of her character was completely turned on its head in that moment; when Annabelle Watson learned the truth that Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

"Peter… you're-you're-"

"Spider-Man, yes," Peter said as he let his mask alone retract so that she could see the emotion conveyed in his eyes. "And I'm going to find her, Annabelle. I'm going to go to Italy and bring her home."

Annabelle was quiet for a long moment, seeming to weigh Peter's words in her mind. Trying to decide whether it was worth the risk of hoping by believing him. Then, her gaze softened and she squeezed back the hands that held hers. "I believe you."

A bit of tension released within Peter at the small amount of confidence the woman put in him. If she trusted that Peter could do this - find Mary Jane - then that was exactly what he was going to do. Because it wouldn't just be himself that he would be destroyed if he failed, he would also severely disappoint the woman sitting before him. The stakes were beyond him at this point.

"But where in the world will you even start?" Aunt May piped up from behind him, her voice calculating as she worked on a strategy. Peter turned to look at her, his eyes shining with emotion. May believed in him. She was letting him go out to Italy and do this. "Italy is a very large place, you know."

"I know." Peter confirmed. Italy was a large place indeed. But there had to be a way to narrow it down a bit. At least to a single city… he couldn't quite remember what it was that Mary Jane had told him… so much has happened since then.

"And…" Aunt May seemed to hesitate a bit before she took a deep breath in order to trudge forward. "I'm not sure how we'll pay for your plane ticket, Pete, but we'll think of somethin-"

"Leave that to me," Annabelle interrupted as Peter's attention whipped back to her. She was staring down at him again, her gaze now set with determination and hope. "Just be sure to bring her home to me, Peter."

Normally, Peter was dead set against accepting charity. But this was Mary Jane they were talking about. He wasn't about to let such pesky things like being unable to reclaim their finances yet keep him from reuniting with her. So, Peter gave her a firm nod. Then he looked between the two women. "And as for where to start… I think I have an idea."

….

Swinging through the sky didn't bring him as much joy as it normally did. There was too much weighing him down in his heart for him to truly feel weightless through the air.

The Lincoln Foundation building ran on pure solar energy, an amazing feat to accomplish in such a smoggy city like New York.

It didn't take him long to surmise that Mr. Lincoln's office was at the very top floor - the penthouse office.

As he crawled up the side of the building to the window, he managed to peek through the floor to ceiling glass to find that Mr. Lincoln's office was empty. Perfect.

Using the stickiness of his fingers, Peter put the smallest amount of pressure to open one of the windows from the outside, just enough for him to be able to sneak through. As soon as his feet were on the solid mahogany flooring, he swiveled his head around the large oval space and immediately zeroed his gaze on the desk that housed an impressive computer. It almost looked like something that would come out of NASA.

"The amount of storage on that thing must be ridiculous," Peter breathed as he took the necessary steps closer to the beast. Pressing the power button, Peter flexed his fingers together as he waited for the thrum of the waking fans to settle and for the screen to come to life. It's been a while since he's tested his hacking skills - that was usually Ned's domain while Peter took more enjoyment out of building the actual computers as well as coming up with other new inventions. But Peter was no stickler when it came to hacking, either. It would just take a bit of time… a luxury that he didn't really have but there was no other choice to be had.

In what felt like no time at all, his fingers were dancing across the keyboard as he tried to bypass firewall after firewall… they just kept coming. What was really on this computer that was so important to protect? Wasn't this the desk of billionaire L. Thompson Lincoln - Environmentalist and Humanitarian? Why did someone in that line of work need so much security?

A sudden gasp across the room had Peter freezing his fingers over the keyboard. His gaze shifted upward, over the top edge of the large monitor. Across the large room, standing in the opening of the heavy door, stood a woman - who Peter could only surmise to be Mr. Lincoln's secretary.

She was staring at him with wide eyes, her hand was up and clutching at her heart in an effort to slow its speeding pace. How had his spider-sense not sensed her? Did she not pose as a danger to him?

Peter's mind was processing at a mile a minute. How exactly should he proceed with this? Threaten her? Run? No… he should try to gauge her knowledge by playing it cool. He couldn't leave now. Not yet. Not when he didn't get any of the information that he needed.

"Sorry," Peter apologized, though he was far from sorry - not for his presence, at least. "Don't mind me. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"S-Spider-Man?" The woman gasped as Peter lowered his gaze to the computer screen, his fingers drumming on the keyboard once again. "What are you… Why are you here?"

Peter paused long enough to shoot a gaze up at the terrified woman before deciding to trudge forward… "Looking for a girl - Mary Jane Watson. Have you heard of her?"

The obvious widening of the woman's eyes was confirmation enough for Peter that she had, in fact, heard of Mary Jane. He could sense that his eye lenses were shifting to narrow a level look at her. "Something tells me that I will find information on her possible whereabouts here?"

The woman's dark face looked ashen as she swallowed thickly and gave him a shaky nod. Peter couldn't say that he was glad that his hunch was correct about the Lincoln Foundation knowing something about Mary Jane's disappearance, but he was glad that he was looking in the right direction. It was one step closer to finding his Mary Jane. His fingers danced faster across the keys, trying to crack the code through the endless barrage of firewalls that he encountered on the screen.

"You won't want to waste your time trying to hack into Mr. Lincoln's database," The woman's voice suddenly spoke up, now a little closer than it had been previously. "His system is highly encrypted with the highest level of security that I've ever seen. Trust me, I've tried."

"You don't know how smart I can be," Peter persisted, his fingers and concentration not letting up once.

"What I'm trying to say is… if you need information, it's actually at my desk."

Peter's head snapped up to look at her, his fingers finally pausing on Mr. Lincoln's keyboard. The woman stood a lot closer now, just on the other side of the desk, staring at him over the top of the monitor.

"W-What?"

"Who do you think got Miss. Watson that extra plane ticket?" She asked softly as she tucked her curly black hair behind her ear. "I knew that they were interested in her because of something having to do with Spider-Man. And… I was worried for the girl. She seemed sweet."

There was a definite constricting spasm in his throat that Peter tried hard to swallow against as he blinked rapidly against the stinging sensation in his eyes. Forcing out a cough to cover the sudden emotion he felt at the thought of Mary Jane, Peter tried to reply casually, "She is."

The woman looked at him in a way that Peter could only equate to as pity. She was seeing right through his forced facade. "I got her the extra plane ticket to Italy- hoping that she would give the extra ticket to Spider-Man if she did happen to know him… so that you could protect her. I had a feeling that something might happen to her overseas."

Peter blinked rapidly behind his mask. Wait… did she just say that she gave Mary Jane an extra ticket for Italy? Not Paris?

"But the ticket wasn't for Italy. It was for Paris." Peter felt the need to clarify.

The secretary frowned, her expression confused then turned contemplative. "She must have exchanged the one that I gave her then for a ticket to Paris. I'm not sure why she did that…"

Peter knew why. Mary Jane had practically told him in the note that she left him along with the ticket. She hadn't wanted to pressure him on returning her feelings, so she gave him a week to decide before joining her on the second part of her trip.

He now wished that he had gotten on that plane with Mary Jane to Italy, that she had never exchanged the ticket for one to Paris. Peter wished for a lot of things actually… that he had been strong enough to stop Thanos from even snapping his fingers in the first place. Then perhaps none of this would be happening. Mary Jane would be safe and Mr. Stark would still be alive.

Or better yet, if he had been honest with Mary Jane about his feelings for her from the beginning, then she wouldn't have felt the need to give him space and go to Italy without him.

"Let's go into the lobby to my desk… I have the files that you're looking for there." The woman turned and started to walk back toward the heavy office doors, fully expecting Peter to follow her. And of course, he did…

"You're being… incredibly helpful." He said, suspicious. He couldn't help it. Everything in his life was practically in shambles and he felt that perhaps he needed to be cautious while trying to navigate this new world of his. Five years was a lot of time to catch up on. He had to reevaluate who it was he could trust, especially with matters as important as his mission to find Mary Jane.

The woman sighed as she slipped past the thick, wooden doors as Peter followed her out into the small lobby. "Miss Watson didn't deserve to get caught up in all of this. She was innocent, was just trying to follow her dreams."

Peter nodded, accepting the answer. Though in the back of his mind, he couldn't help being resentful toward the woman. If she knew so much, then why hadn't she tried to warn Mary Jane? Why hadn't she tried to steer her away from traveling to Italy? The question was at the tip of Peter's tongue, but he relented… he couldn't risk the woman rescinding her help just from the chance of Peter potentially offending her.

"My name is Glory Grant, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Grant."

Ms. Grant sat at her computer and typed in her password before digging through her many files that were stored on her desktop… she scrolled until she landed on one labeled 'MJW'.

She double-clicked on it to open up the long list of documents.

"Talk to a man named Eddie Brock - he was Mary Jane's photographer that Mr. Lincoln hired specifically," Ms. Grant was telling him as she did a quick skim of the files, trying to make sure that everything was there. "When I met Mr. Brock, he seemed like the seedy type of character - the kind that's usually involved in Mr. Lincoln's… other business."

"Other business… you mean, the shady kind?"

Ms. Grant nodded. "I don't know much, but… I couldn't help noticing some things over the years. Like how some rough-looking men from the streets sometimes walk through these doors and never walk out…" Ms. Grant gulped and shivered slightly as she recalled. Peter couldn't help feeling bad for her… and also for his past thoughts of resentment towards her. It was clear that the woman before him was terrified of her boss and what he could do to her, and those were actual fears validated by the many people that she's seen disappear through those doors. She was going out on a limb just helping him out as much as she is, and Peter couldn't help but be grateful.

Ms. Grant pressed the button to print the documents from her 'MJW' folder, the printer beside her started whirring to life as it spit out page after page.

"I've got the details for the flight numbers she took, where she landed, the hotel she stayed at in Rome, and the hotel she was supposed to stay in for Venice - she never checked in."

Venice. That's where Mary Jane was supposed to be… and that's where Peter would start his search. And if not there, then he would check Rome.

When the pages finished printing all of the files, Ms, Grant stacked them, put them all in a manila envelope, then handed it out to him. "Good luck, Spider-Man. I really hope that you find her. I… I'm sick of seeing innocent people get hurt."

Peter gingerly took the envelope from her grasp, basking in all of the sacred information that would help aid him in his search for Mary Jane. He tucked the envelope under his arm, then reached out to gently rest his hand on the woman's shoulder. "All I can say is thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me… I promise, when I get back, I'll look into the Lincoln Foundation. You won't have to worry about innocent people getting hurt for much longer."

With emotion misting her eyes, Ms. Grant gazed up at him and made eye contact with his eye templates. "I'll hold you to that, Spider-Man. Even if it would get me out of a job, I'm here at your disposal for any information you need."

…

Before Peter left the Lincoln Foundation, Ms. Grant allowed him to use her desk phone to call Annabelle to update her on a bit of what he's found out so far. He told her to buy him a ticket to Venice, and to book it for as soon as possible.

After that, Peter swung out of Manhattan and headed towards Queens. His first stop was to his old apartment building - where on the rooftop, in a hollowed out cinder block with a concrete slab resting on top of it, was where Peter kept some of his spare web fluid cartridges. He felt a bit of tension release from his shoulders when he saw that it was still there after all these years, albeit covered in a thick layer of dust and - ironically - spider webs. He couldn't afford to make new fluid right now, nor did he have access to any of his lab equipment, so he had been banking on this still being here. What he had here was about a six-month supply. He would have to make it count. He stored all of it safely in the backpack that he brought with him, tucking it in next the the manila envelope full of the information he has managed to gather so far.

Tracking down Ned as his next stop had been fairly easy, as he still had his grandmother's apartment that his entire family stayed at before… Thanos happened. When Peter peered through Ned's bedroom window, he could only slump in relief to find that, not only was Ned alone in his bedroom, but he was also safe and still the same age that Peter last saw him to be. It probably made Peter selfish to be glad that his best friend had been dusted and died alongside him, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to dissect that bit of psychology so he chose to ignore it.

Instead, Peter knocked on the outside of the open window frame to get Ned's attention. "Pssst!"

Ned's head nearly swiveled all the way around away from the video game on his computer as he jumped in his seat at Peter's unexpected arrival.

When Ned's gaze made purchase with Peter's mask through the open window, he beamed a dazzling smile as his shoulders slumped in relief. "Peter, thank God you're alright! I was so worried!" Ned said as he stood rapidly for his desk chair and approached Peter toward the window. "Last I saw you, you were going off to fight that space ship. I've been scouring the internet for any mention of Spider-Man since we've been brought back, but all that I've seen are articles recounting that you were seen fighting Thanos' army at the Avengers Compound and-"

Peter made his way through the window as his mask retracted from his face and cut his friend off by wrapping his arms around him in a strong embrace. "It's good to see you too, Ned."

Ned wrapped his arms around Peter as well and they each gave each other brotherly pats on the back before they let go.

"And I'm sorry that I didn't come sooner," Peter apologized, feeling the slight prick in his eyes as he recounted why he couldn't come to see his friend sooner. He was so sick of crying. He's done it a lot lately, but he also couldn't stop. "A lot has happened since… Thanos. Mr. Stark, he- well… he's gone now. And-"

"I'm so sorry about Tony Stark, Peter," Ned said as he rested a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder in awkward comfort, "As soon as I heard, I wanted to call you but I realized that my phone no longer works because we don't have a data plan anymore-"

"Same here. I would've called if I could. But with the funeral, and finding out that we no longer have an apartment, I've been busy…" Peter sniffed and looked down at his boots for a second, then forced his red eyes upward to meet Ned's once again. There was a purpose to him being here other than catching up with an old friend. "But there was also something else."

Ned waited as Peter paused and swallowed to compose himself.

"Mary Jane is missing, man," Peter managed to force out in a breathy rasp, just barely keeping from breaking down again. It was difficult to hear, but near impossible for him to actually say the words aloud. "She went missing in Italy and I need to go over there to search for her."

"Sh-She's missing?" Ned gasped as he fell back into his computer chair in shock. He lifted a heavy gaze up at Peter, so full of pity that Peter could barely even stand to look at him. "Oh my God, Peter, I- wow… I'm so sorry."

Swallowing, Peter did his best to push through the emotion. He was on a mission. He had to stay focused. "I need your help, Ned. From the 'Guy in the Chair'."

Ned blinked in response before he seemed to perk up slightly at the prospect of being able to help. "Of course. I'll do anything I can."

Nodding his head toward Ned's computer, Peter replied, "Can you try and look up a guy named Eddie Brock? He took Mary Jane's picture in a photoshoot and he may know something. Try and find an address and maybe dig up a little bit of dirt on him if you can?"

Ned turned toward his computer, his fingers already flying over the keyboard.

"I'll try my best."

…

Peter waited around in Ned's room - pacing, randomly throwing a rubber ball against the wall, and pacing some more - all the while, Ned was scouring the internet, looking through all of the search results that popped up for 'Eddie Brock'. Until…

"Peter, I think I found him."

Peter turned from his pacing toward the window and jumped into the spare swivel chair that Ned had next to his desk. "Dude, really?" His eyes eagerly scoped the page that was on Ned's screen.

"Yeah, he works as a photographer for the Daily Bugle now." Ned's expression morphed into one of distaste. "So… we hate this guy?"

Peter nodded. If Eddie Brock worked for the Daily Bugle, then he was a worse guy than Peter had originally thought. The newspaper/internet talk show was always making up blatant lies about Spider-Man. It was like the Editor-in-Chief, J. Jonah Jameson, had some sort of personal vendetta against him. "Uh, yeah. We really hate this guy."

"The Bugle sucks," Ned agreed as he went back to looking at the screen, clicking through the pages of information. "I dug into his personal records, and he was arrested back in 2016 for an attempted robbery by… no way!"

"What?" Peter asked immediately, craning his neck closer so that he could better see.

"You got this guy arrested, Peter! Back when you first started being Spider-Man. He was breaking into someone's apartment and you webbed him up.," Ned gushed before he broke off with a vindictive chuckle. "Heh. Nice."

"Really?" Peter asked, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead as he tried to recall the exact occurrence that they were speaking of. He honestly couldn't remember. He's stopped so many attempted robberies over the years, they all just sort of blended together. "You think he holds a grudge?"

"I think that would be a safe assumption…" Ned mused with a sideways glance in Peter's direction. "You could always confront him in front of the Bugle?"

He didn't even have to think about it before immediately vetoing that idea.

"No, knowing J. Jonah Jameson, he would probably try and find a way to spin it so that the headlines read that I attacked an innocent Bugle employee… you got an address?"

Ned nodded and grabbed a notebook that was sitting nearby in order to tear off a scrap piece of paper - which he wrote the address down on. "Be careful, Peter," He said as he handed it over.

"Always am…" Peter stood and took the paper from him, his suit already navigating the coordinates for the fastest route there. But he found himself hesitating before leaving, looking down at Ned with a grateful glance. It was a shame that they didn't have more time to talk. For Peter to vent out his frustrations and anguish over what happened with Mr. Stark. But Mary Jane needed him. He couldn't linger in New York for much longer… "Thanks for your help, man. If I don't see you before I leave, can you make an excuse to Harry if he comes looking for me?"

Ned nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. I'll think of something," He paused, before, "I really hope that you find her, Peter."

Making his way over to the window, Peter released a web.

"Me too," He replied before jumping out into the dusk of the summer night.

…..

Edward Brock lived in Brooklyn, down in the Bushwick neighborhood. His apartment was a bit run down but Peter had honestly seen worse - his and May's current living situation came to mind. Peter swung right up to one of the windows that belonged to Eddie and took the liberty of allowing himself inside. It was obvious that as soon as he entered, that Eddie Brock wasn't home yet. Peter sighed, hating having to waste time, and leaned up against the window sill, his thoughts sifting through everything that he needed to do once he got to Italy - which may change depending on if whatever information he found out from Brock somehow shifted everything on its head. He sighed and made his way over to the couch and plopped himself down on it in a heavy heap.

Peter only had to wait there for forty-five minutes before he heard the shift of the locking mechanism from the front door of the apartment click. Peter straightened and made to stand - but before he made a move, he decided to instead make himself look at home. He leaned himself back into the sunken cushions and crossed his ankle over his knee, his arms flexed over the back of the couch - the perfect picture of ease.

The man who opened the door had burly arms, a buzz cut around the base of his skull with a tuft of longer blond hair on the top of his head. With a dimpled chin and a wide nose, he also had a tattoo of a skull along the right side of his neck. Just judging based on appearances, the man did look a bit seedy just like Ms. Grant said. But it wasn't because he fit the picture of a stereotypical criminal, per say… Peter has fought enough bad guys to know that they came in all shapes and sizes. No… it was the hardened look in his eyes - which screamed that if anyone messed with him that he would fuck that person up big time.

Those very eyes widened when he spotted Spider-Man sitting in his apartment on his couch and his nose flared as he inhaled a breath.

"Have a seat, Brock," Peter said casually as he indicated toward the recliner seat across from him with a swipe of his hand.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" Brock spat, the camera strap that had been over his shoulder was lifted off of his neck and he held it in one hand.

"Don't make me tell you again," Peter said, a threat poised in the tone of his voice. He wasn't bridging for any argument. Not today. "Have a seat or I'll stop being so nice."

Brock lifted the lens of his camera and pointed it towards Peter, still sitting on the man's couch, and snapped a picture, the flash was more than enough indication of what his primary subject matter was when he decided to snap the shot. "Thanks for the bonus. Now, get the fuck out-"

Peter stood with lightning-quick speed and shot his webbing at the man so that the force of it crushed him against the door, slamming it shut in the process from the impact.

"Gah!" Brock cried and immediately started to struggle against the bondage. "Let me go!"

"I warned you…" Peter said as he took several steps closer, studying the man before him. Brock stopped his struggle and instead took to glaring at Peter with a spiteful gleam in his eye. Peter ignored it as he reached forward and took the camera that was still clutched in the man's hand and forced it out of Brock's grasp. Then he opened the slot where the memory card was stored…

Brock's eyes widened as he watched this, panic shot through his voice, "What do you think you're doi-"

Peter took out the memory card and smashed it to dust between his thumb and forefinger.

"YOU MOTHER-FUCKER!" Brock thrashed against the binds that the webbing had on him, not even budging an inch. "I had other pictures on there! Assignments!"

"You should have thought of that before you took my picture without my permission… I'm a bit camera-shy, you see. It's the reason why I move too fast for anyone to get a clear shot of me," Peter mused as he gently dropped the camera onto the ground, making sure to give it great care. Brock had a really nice camera. Peter was almost envious of the obvious quality and most definitely couldn't find it in him to leave a single scratch on it, let alone crush it with his bare hands. Brock should be grateful that he only destroyed the memory card, which would be a cheap expense in order to replace it. Making a show of dusting off his gloved hands, Peter did so just to piss off the man in front of him a bit more. He could already tell that there was something about Eddie Brock that he didn't like - a lot of it had to do with the alleged role that he played in Mary Jane's disappearance. But there was something else about him that rubbed Peter the wrong way… something about Brock's demeanor and the way that he held himself - it made Peter's skin crawl with the desire to want to irrationally punch something.

"Now…" He began, ready to get onto the true business of why he was even there in the first place. The sooner that he got out of there, the better. "Word on the street is that you have information that I need."

"I don't know what you're talking abou-"

"Mary Jane Watson," Peter interrupted, and the man froze. Peter's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Oh, so you do remember her? Perfect. You took her picture, right?"

Brock's seedy eyes roamed over the mask donned on Peter's face, probably looking for any crack in Peter's armor - searching for anything that he can use to talk himself out of this like the slimy worm that he was.

"Yeah, I did." He finally responded before he jutted his chin out defiantly. "Is that a crime or something? It was a gig."

A humorless laugh escaped Peter as he raised a wagging finger up near the man's nose.

"Now don't lie to me, Brock…" Peter scolded before he rested his strong hand next to the man's head on the doorframe. "You and I both know that the modeling gig was only an excuse." Peter drawled. He knew that it was true, but a bit of his heart still hurt for Mary Jane due to this fact. She had thought that she was just on the cusp of living her dream - and instead wound up in the midst of a horrible nightmare. The hand that leaned against the doorway morphed into a clenched fist. "I wonder what the Bugle would say if they knew that you were complicit in the disappearance of an innocent teenage girl?"

Peter didn't even bother to look at the man's expression. He could hear the hitch in his voice that indicated his panic perfectly. "I-I don't-"

"Or better yet," Peter interrupted once again, pushing off the door to stroke his chin in a musing manner. "I could let them know of our shared history, yes?" Brock stiffened. "How I stopped you from robbing a place? Threw you in prison for it… I wonder how you hid that from Jolly Jonah when he hired you? Did you forge your records? You know J.J.J… how he's all about abiding by the law, a bit of a stickler for it, actually."

Peter let his words linger in the air as he dropped his hand from his face, leveling Brock with a look that easily displayed that he was not playing around. Yes, this was a real threat. For Mary Jane, Peter would ruin this man's livelihood. It was honestly giving him more consideration than what Brock gave Mary Jane and her life. Brock glowered at him, his teeth nashed together as he clenched his jaw… before finally managing to spit out, "What. Do. You. Want?"

"I told you," Peter said as he casually crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to display his muscles in the process. Brock may have the desire to beat the living shit out of Spider-Man, but that dream was far out of the realm of reality. "Information. About Mary Jane Watson."

Brock was already shaking his head. "I don't know where she is."

Did he think that Peter was naive? Delusional? Brock has already given himself away based off of his reactions thus far. It was clear that he was privy to some bit of information.

"But you do know something, right?" Peter pressed, jutting his own chin out now. If this was a contest of who could be the most stubborn, Peter knew that he would win hands down. "I promise if you tell me what I need to know, your little secret stays between us. It's your choice…"

There was a long moment of silence as Peter took on the full onslaught of Eddie Brock's hateful glare. Peter was nonplussed by it, his own eye-lenses narrowed in return. When a minute passed, Brock seemed to finally slump against the webbing that held him up against his will.

"Look. I've got a respectable job now at the Bugle. Don't mess that up for me. I've gone straight, I swear. I was just desperate for cash back then." Peter only stared at him, waiting. Was he trying to appeal to Peter's good side? Attempting to gain pity points by that pathetic sob story? It was no match compared to the picture that Peter had swimming in his mind - Mary Jane's beautiful face, beaten, bruised… with tears spilling down her cheeks. Peter's fists clenched from where they were still tucked into the crevices of his elbows. There were plenty of people out there that struggled with monetary issues, Peter and May being one of them, but they didn't commit crimes like Brock did to make their situation better. Brock wasn't getting an ounce of pity from him. Brock seemed to realize this as well, as he released a heavy sigh. "Lincoln hired me to take her picture, to boost her up a bit too so that she would relax enough to answer some personal questions. He wanted to know if she knew you. Specifically if she knew who you were…" Peter's eye lenses widened a fraction against his will. Eddie Brock noticed and nodded his head toward Peter in indication. "Something tells me that Lincoln was right..."

Jabbing his hands forward, Peter gripped his fists tightly around the parts of fabric of Brock's shirt that wasn't coated in webbing.

"You don't know anything," Peter seethed through his teeth. He couldn't have that seed watered more than it already has been. That idea had to die right here and now. No one could go around thinking that Mary Jane knew Peter's secret identity. No one. Even though she didn't know that he was Spider-Man, just the notion that there could be criminals out there that thought that she knew - and were willing to harm her in order to try and gain this information - was absolutely terrifying.

You're a curse. All you ever bring is pain and suffering to those you love…

"Whoa! Relax," Brock tried to coax as he craned his neck to gain as much distance from Peter as he could. "It was only a comment, jeeze,"

Peter forced himself to let go, peeling his fingers off of the fabric of his shirt one by one, in order for Brock to continue. He needed to get his emotions in check. He needed to focus and get the information that he needed. He could think about the implications of everything else later and put his emotional crisis on the backburner... Mary Jane comes first. "Anyway, I asked my questions, and I got her to trip up a couple of times. It was clear that she knew you. And it was enough for Lincoln to decide to move forward with the next step…"

"Next step?" Peter's fingers twitched by his sides with the desire to wring his neck. The way he had just gone along with all of this without a care for Mary Jane? All for a quick buck? What a selfish fucking bastard! "What are you talking about?"

"I overheard him talking on the phone with someone while I was cleaning up from the photoshoot," Brock began, thankfully not noticing how close to the edge Peter actually was. He wanted nothing more than to knock Eddie Brock's teeth in. "He said something about Italy and offering her a European modeling tour, buttering the deal up real nice so that it was something that she wouldn't be able to refuse. It was all so that they could get her far enough away from you so that you couldn't be there to protect her while they interrogated her about your secret identity. He said something about getting a team of men to nab her in Venice, how it was best if they flew her out to Rome first so that her trail wouldn't be so easy to follow and so that the evidence didn't track back to the Lincoln Foundation. He wanted to make it seem like it was just another case of a single, young American girl who wasn't careful enough while traveling abroad."

Visions flashed through Peter's mind's eye as he listened in horror at all that was being relayed to him. Mary Jane, alone, scared… Getting kidnapped by a large group of burly hired men… Looking for Spider-Man to save her once again but only for Peter to be missing from her side. She must be so terrified right now. Was she cold? Hurt? Were they feeding her? Giving her water? That is, if she still happened to be aliv- His thoughts cut off right there.

Mary Jane will be fine. She had to be.

She had to be…

She had to be…

"What else?" Peter asked, seriously starting to lose his patience with this fucking sad excuse of a man who would dare take part in hurting an innocent teenage girl.

"That's all I know, I swear." Peter believed him, the look in his eyes was earnest for the first time since he met him. What a pathetic piece of shit.

With that, Peter slapped a hand against the doorframe next to Brock's head, shaking the wood of the door from the impact and causing the burly man to flinch from the close proximity. "If you tell Lincoln or anyone about our conversation," Peter threatened in a low and careful voice next to Brock's ear, "You'll have more to worry about than losing your job, I promise you that."

Moving away slowly from the looming pose, Peter walked backward toward the open window, maintaining eye contact with Brock all the while. When he got to the open window, did Peter finally turn his back as he shot a web at the building across the street. But before he burst out of the place and out of the presence of the disgusting shit, Peter paused, "Oh, and that webbing? It will dissolve in about an hour."

Peter jumped from the window, hearing his alter ego's name getting cursed from inside the apartment.

…

The return trip to the apartment in the Bronx felt slow and tedious. Web-swinging didn't feel the same without his acrobatic tricks and flips, but he was also not in the mood… He merely only wanted to traverse to destination B from destination A. It was almost dinner time but May was out when Peter finally made it through the window of their new apartment. He knew that she was currently trying to talk her old boss into getting her old job back, so that they could afford to move back to Queens. There was a part of Peter that felt bad for essentially abandoning her to have to deal with all of this on her own - to try and gain back the semblance of their old lives back without his aid and support - but he recognized that it was all necessary. Mary Jane had to be found. There was no other option.

He whipped off his mask, suddenly parched, and went to the tiny alleyway kitchen to get a glass to fill with tap water. Bottled water was a luxury that they couldn't afford right now. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, tasting the distinct flavor of dirt and rust from the city water. He lowered the glass and sighed, gulping down all that remained so he didn't have to endure the taste too much before going to fill up the glass once again. He had just filled another glassful of water when there was a knock at his apartment door. Taking the glass with him, Peter walked over to the door and peered out the peephole to see who it was.

Annabelle Watson was who he saw on the other side of the door and immediately, Peter unlatched the lock to let her inside, not even bothering to change out of his spider-suit now that she knew his secret.

"Peter," Annabelle greeted warmly, though her eyes were still strained with a distinct pang of sadness in their depths. Peter thought that they emulated exactly how his heart felt… Peter shifted out of the way and Annabelle made her way inside of the apartment and took the liberty to one of the chairs May had set up in the small living room. Peter closed the front door and followed so that he stood before her, unable to comprehend the concept of sitting at the moment. He was too wired at the moment. Peter took a moment to set down the full glass of water before his eyes perused her, just noticing that her purse was tucked into the crook of one arm while the other held a large manila envelope. As though sensing his curiosity of the envelope, Annabelle indicated to it and said, "I've got the tickets to Venice like you said."

There was a part of him that sagged in relief that yet another task on their checklist was completed. They were yet another step closer to getting Mary Jane home.

"For when?" Peter couldn't help but ask. If the departing flight was longer than a day from now, Peter thought that he might just go insane. He had nothing else to distract him anymore. All of his Spider-Man duties in gathering information in New York about Mary Jane's disappearance were completed. All he could do now was wait.

"Tomorrow morning," Much to Peter's appeasement. He could handle waiting until the morning, though he would prefer to leave right now. Annabelle seemed to be able to see this on his face and her expression softened as she flashed him an apologetic smile. "It was the earliest flight that I could find on such short notice."

Peter nodded as she handed the envelope over. He took it in hand as though it were something sacred. He didn't think that he could let it out of his sight and probably wouldn't sleep a wink due to that fact. "Thank you."

"No. Thank you," Annabelle stressed as she reached forward to grasp his hands in both of hers, guiding him so that he was forced to sit on the footrest in front of her. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't gone out of your way to find the information about Mary Jane's disappearance, not to mention actually going to Italy to find her."

"It's no bother," Peter said as he swallowed against a forming lump in his throat. "I want to find her just as much as you do."

Annabelle bit her lip and dropped her gaze so that she was looking at their connected hands. "Well… we're not the only ones that want to find her…"

Peter could only stare at her in mild confusion. "…yeah. May wants Mary Jane found too-"

"No. Not just May, either…" Annabelle let out a heavy sigh, still unable to meet Peter's eyes. She squeezed his hands in hers once more before she turned to yell toward the closed door. "Mark? Can you come in here, please?"

The doorknob to Peter's apartment turned and the door creaked open slowly… to reveal the face of Mark Watson standing in the open door frame.

Peter leapt to his feet before he crouched down low, poised and ready to fight. His skin was itching with it as his eyes did a quick sweep of Molten Man's body to look for any sort of opening for Peter's oncoming onslaught. He could see Mark tense his body as well in preparation for Peter's attack, and-

"Peter, dear!" Annabelle cried as she latched onto his arm desperately, tugging with all of her might against his brute strength. "It's alright. He's here to help."

Snapping his gaze at Annabelle, Peter could only stare at her in complete disbelief. Had grief made her delusional?

Mark Watson shifted on his feet where he stood in the open doorway. Swallowing, he said through a tense jaw, "You got a lead on my little girl?"

Peter could only blink as he whipped his attention between the pair of them. Had the world gone completely mad? Did he not spend weeks trying to capture this guy to save Mary Jane from his clutches? Only for him to just waltz casually into Peter's apartment?

"I-I don't understand!" Peter cried at Annabelle before he pointed an accusing finger at Mark. "He's a bad guy!"

Mark sneered at him as Annabelle Watson sighed in dismay - she attempted tugging at his arm further, trying to coax him into his seat once again. But Peter didn't budge. He kept a watchful eye on the supervillain that had decided it was a good idea to step foot in his new home. When Peter didn't move, Annabelle sighed once again, "The world is not nearly as black and white as you think, Peter…"

She shot a look back at her brother, making eye contact with him as Mark nodded once at her, urging her to continue without saying the actual words. Annabelle patted the arm of Peter's that she still had a hold of. "Mark was really affected when he found out that Mary Jane was one of the dusted five years ago - or so we assumed she was at the time. I've gone to visit him at the Raft Prison - not an easy feat, mind you, but I managed my way in there eventually." She paused to swallow before she looked up at Peter with red and watery eyes. "We've reconnected as Mark has been rehabilitated. He's now been sober since he was arrested over five year ago and they managed to give him more control over his condition with their experimentation on the Raft. He's able to look and feel normal now but still sometimes turns into Molten Man when he concentrates or loses control."

There was a lot of information there to unpack… so much, that Peter found himself swaying back a step. Molten Man… rehabilitated? The same man that had tried to kidnap his own daughter? The same villain that had burned down Harry's mansion? It was difficult for him to believe - to wrap his head around - because it felt that it was only recently that Peter had managed to stop Molten Man. But in actuality… it had been five years. And… now that she mentioned it, Peter finally noticed that Mark Watson's skin did look normal - no longer the metallic gold that spontaneously combusted into flames when he got too heated. But Annabelle had also mentioned that he still had the ability to turn into that… which meant that he was still a threat.

"I've been practicing on not losing control," Mark commented as he eyed his sister, his gaze looking for reassurance - guidance. "The government let me out of prison to go on covert missions as a part of my 'community service'. That's what I've done for the last four years. With Mary Jane gone, there was nothing else for me to do. I had no purpose… just checked in on Anna every once in a while in between my missions," He shifted his gaze away from his sister and eyed Peter, "But if you know what's happened to my baby girl, I want to know."

In the back of his mind, Peter couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of appearance of his spider-sense while in the presence of Mary Jane's father. And for some reason, this irked him. He couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but he knew that his stubbornness had something to do with it. Shouldn't he be glad that the man before him didn't pose as a threat? He supposed that perhaps he was thinking that this was the lull before the storm when it came to Mark Watson… one wrong word said by Peter, one bad occurrence happening, and Mark Watson could burst into flames.

"I don't trust you," Peter finally said, as he eyed the man suspiciously.

But Mark Watson seemed nonplussed by the lack of approval on Peter's part. In fact, he rolled his eyes at him as he crossed his arms and leaned casually against the door frame. "I don't think that you have much of a choice. Not if we want to find Mary Jane."

Irritation spiked at an all-time high within him, sparking somewhere deep in Peter's chest. He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, finally tugging away from Annabelle's hold. "This is ridiculous! You tried to kidnap her before!"

He couldn't allow for this to happen. He had to keep his focus clear while in Italy, not have to worry about keeping an eye on Mary Jane's father on top of everything else.

This was his mission, dammit! He was the hero, here!

Mark's causal stance and expression soured to disdain as he sent a hateful glower in Peter's direction. "I was - and still am - her legal guardian. I'm her father, dammit! Who are you to tell me what is best for my daug-"

"Enough!" Annabelle interrupted, shooting a fierce look between the two of them as she stood to her feet, purposefully placing herself in between them. First, she turned and gave a stern look Peter's way, "Peter, I promise you that Mark has changed. Notice how he got angry with you and he hasn't turned metallic once, let alone heated up enough to set himself on fire?" Peter desperately wanted to avoid that fact and stubbornly set his jaw, crossing his arms. So what if he didn't set on fire now? There was always that chance that it could occur later. "He only wants to bring back Mary Jane, safe and unharmed. Please work together on this."

Annabelle tried meeting his gaze and Peter purposefully shifted them upward so that he looked above her head. This had the unfortunate side-effect of catching Mark Watson's eye…

"I'm going to Italy regardless," He confided, much to Peter's disbelief. He was fucking going to Italy either way?! "I don't need your permission. The only reason why I am here is because Anna wants us to work together and she said that you might have a lead on Mary Jane."

Peter's sight flickered downward and caught on Annabelle's pleading gaze. He froze. How had he never noticed before… Annabelle eyes had the same green color and shape that Mary Jane's had. And they were currently looking at him with such hopeful and delicate pleading that it caused Peter's heart to ache just from the sight of them. His insides twisted, thinking of Mary Jane and her beautiful eyes… her soft smile… for just a second, he felt the ghost of her soft lips and how they had felt pressed against his. His knees shook at the memory, as fleeting as it was as he tried to grasp ahold of it, to keep it for just a bit longer so that he could savor it.

But it was gone as soon as it came. Just like Mary Jane herself. And it left Peter feeling hollow and bereft. He had to find her… He had to find Mary Jane. And soon.

Annabelle shifted a half-step closer to him, her gaze still imploring. "Please Peter?"

Nearly all of the fight left him wasn't much that he could do if Mark was going to Italy regardless of what Peter said. It wasn't like Mark was doing anything illegal, so Spider-Man couldn't stop him. And even if Peter did manage to subdue him a second time, there was no place that he could think of to lock Mark Watson up. The Raft had already released him. And if he were really honest with himself, he didn't have the time to fight Molten Man. There were more pressing priorities for him to resolve than start a game of cat and mouse with Mary Jane's father.

And if Mark was going to Italy, then… it was better to try and work with him than against him. Just so Peter could better keep an eye on Mark if they happened to find Mary Jane together.

Peter inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled it out just as slowly before he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists by his side.

"Fine." He said curtly, with a glare sent over Annabelle Watson's head, directed at her brother. He got another eye roll in response as Mark then actively tried to avoid Peter's gaze by looking down at the floor.

"Perfect," Annabelle replied, seeming mighty pleased with herself as she clapped her hands together once in delight. "I'll leave the two of you to figure out the details of your plans while on the flight over. You'll both need your rest tonight," Then she turned the back of her head to Peter, addressing her brother only, "I'll see you off tomorrow morning, Mark."

Mark nodded and slipped backward so that he quickly vacated the apartment. At least he had the decency of closing the door behind him, Peter had to give him that.

"One last thing, Peter dear," Annabelle said and Peter's attention snapped back to her. He watched as she reached her hand into her purse, digging around in the large bag for a bit of time before she brightened and retracted her hand, producing a CD in a jewel case to his curious gaze.

"Here," She held it out to him, urging him to take it, "Take this."

His hand was hesitant as it lifted from his side in order to grasp the small plastic case from her. "What is it?"

He brought it close to his face and turned it over to inspect it. On the actual CD itself, it was labeled with a permanent marker, 'A Time For Us'. He shot another inquisitive glance up at Annabelle, very confused as to why she was giving this to him.

Annabelle's eyes were misted as her gaze lingered on the case that was in Peter's hand.

"It's Mary Jane…" She finally said and for a split second, his gaze snapped down to the CD in his hand. "Her first love has always been the theater, ever since she was a little girl. It wasn't until she grew up a bit where her aspirations grew to wanting to become a model," She broke off momentarily and gave him a wane smile. Peter wondered if she thought the same things that he did about the 'potential modeling career' that Mary Jane had been offered. Was there a part of her that resented it as well? "She made this recording when she was fifteen of her singing voice to send out so that she could get auditions."

Peter couldn't help but gape at her as his eyes widened significantly. This… This seemed rather personal. Not something that just anyone should be privy to. So, why- "Why are you giving this to me?"

Annabelle's expression softened even further as she reached up to stroke his cheek tenderly, almost in a grandmotherly sort of way. She hadn't done that to him since he was twelve, Peter couldn't help but lean into the touch. "It gave me a lot of comfort listening to her voice for the past five years. I believe that it will do the same for you. Especially when things start to feel hopeless." She then reached down with her other hand and squeezed the wrist of Peter's that wasn't holding the CD. "I'll see you tomorrow at the airport."

And with that, she was gone, leaving him behind - holding a gift that would help to tie him to Mary Jane. To make her feel like she was close even if she happened to be so very far away. He lifted the CD case along with the envelope containing the plane ticket - and held both up to his chest.

"I'm coming for you, Mary Jane," He whispered to himself as his eyes closed shut without him even meaning them to. "Just hold on for a little longer."

…

Aunt May still wasn't back yet, so Peter found ways to keep himself busy. There was a pile of broken down cardboard boxes that had been stuffed behind their trash can, waiting to be taken downstairs and outside to the recycling dumpster. He took the liberty of taking them down himself. It was a mindless task that allowed for him to clear his mind. He didn't really want to think much right now. If he got too deep in his head right now, his mind would be bustling. And Peter just wanted a moment's peace. Especially since there was nothing he could do to resolve any of the worrying thoughts that would flit through his head. It was best not to dwell on them until it came to a point where he could be proactive and start to resolve some of those uncertainties.

Dumping the pile of flattened cardboard boxes into the dumpster outside, Peter closed the lid and brushed his hands onto the sweatpants that he had changed into.

"Hey Punk," Peter froze at the voice that called out to him, took a deep breath and slowly turned to face the man, "I thought that we should clear a few things up now that Anna is gone."

Peter's jaw tightened as he reflexively tightened his fists by his sides as he glared at Mark Watson. He was strutting down the long alleyway, making his way closer to Peter so that they could apparently have a 'chat'. Hadn't they already said enough? Agreed to disagree?

Mark didn't say anything more until he stood a couple of paces in front of Peter, where he stopped and crossed his bulky arms over his chest. Peter did a quick sweep of his eyes, looking for any signs of aggression, golden metallic skin, or rising steam that would indicate trouble from the man before him. There was nothing…

"I may be going to Italy," Mark began as he rocked back on his heels slightly, completely relaxed while in Peter's presence. This bothered Peter. Did he not see Peter as a threat? Even after he had defeated him and all that had occurred between them? "But I think it would be best if we went our separate ways once we land there, to cover more ground."

Peter's gaze snapped up to meet Mark's in shock, his jaw dropping open so that his mouth was agape. After a moment, he couldn't help but blurt out, "And how can I trust that you won't just kidnap her yourself if you find her first?"

Releasing a disgusted noise from the back of his throat, Mark rolled his eyes again. When would he stop doing that? "Not that it's really any of your business, but Mary Jane is going to continue living with Anna once I bring her home while we work on our relationship."

Peter eyed him, trying to decide on whether he believed him or not. Sure, he did seem sincere but Peter had a difficult time telling whenever someone was being genuine or not. He wasn't always the best at reading people.

"Which brings me to my next point," Mark said as he did an obvious downsweep of his eyes, making a show of casting judement as he sized Peter up. Whatever he saw, apparently didn't sit well with him because Mark shook his head in disgust. "I don't like you. I know that you've got some fucking hairbrained idea in your head about you and my daughter and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I don't want you anywhere near my daughter, let alone dating her."

So it's come to this, then? Heat spread through his veins as knuckles flexed by his sides.

"I think that's up to Mary Jane to decide," Peter managed to say measurably in a short tone.

Mark rolled his eyes. Again. A stray image popped into Peter's mind of smacking Mark across the face so that he had his head rolling around instead of his eyes.

"Yeah. Well, a lot can change in five years. I'm hoping that she's let go of you and will decide to move on with her life," He shrugged like this was no big deal - as though it weren't an earth-shattering notion that shook Peter to his core. "You're no good for her, the things you involve yourself in… it's like poison to innocent people. Eventually you'll hurt her. I just want to cut it off before that can even happen."

A curse… that's what you are.

Peter swallowed and shook his head slightly against the invading thoughts. He set his jaw as he forced his mind to shift. Why were they even discussing this? It was hardly important in the grand scheme of things. "Let's… just focus on finding her first. That's what's really important right now."

After another sweep of his eyes over Peter, Mark gave a firm nod. "Agreed."

They exchanged no further words after that. Both under the same unspoken agreement that their conversion was over. To emphasize this point, Mark Watson turned on his heel and strode down the way that he came… leaving Peter with bustling thoughts.

…

When Peter woke up, he stuffed as much as he could into the old briefcase that was his Uncle Ben's. He was rushing. He had to arrive at the airport within an hour. He wasn't sure how he had managed to fall asleep, but the sleepless nights must have finally caught up with him. Of all the nights for it to happen, too…

After packing - making sure to triple check that he had his Spider-Suit, his webbing cartridges, the packet of information that Ms. Grant gave him, his passport, plane tickets, and the CD that Annabelle gave him - Peter ran out of the room, suitcase in hand. But he stopped short, nearly tripping over his own legs when he saw Happy sitting with May in their tiny living room, drinking coffee with her as though they were age-old friends.

"Happy?" He asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion at seeing the man here.

"Oh!" Happy nearly spit out the sip of coffee he had just been drinking as he spotted Peter across the small room. No longer trusting himself with the hot liquid apparently, Happy carefully set the mug onto the coffee table. "Hey, Kid."

Peter raised his spare hand up in a sort of half-wave, looking between him and his Aunt May. She smiled at him and wished him a good morning, a sentiment that he returned before he looked at Tony Stark's long-time friend and driver. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? I'm in a bit of a rush to be somewhere-"

"Yeah, I know," Happy interrupted as he shifted awkwardly in his seat on the couch, all while shooting a quick glance May's way. "I heard all about your mission. I'm here to drive you to the airport, actually."

Peter blinked and rocked back on his heels. "Really?"

Happy nodded and made to stand, dusting off imaginary lint on his jacket.

"Well, great. Thanks," Peter grinned, glad that he wouldn't have to web-sling to the airport with his suitcase and then have to worry about finding a private place to change - impossible at an airport that had cameras everywhere.

May stood and approached Peter, a soft smile on her lips as she got on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Then she squeezed him tight in a hug goodbye. "I know that you'll find her," May whispered directly into his ear, and a stinging sensation pricked at his eyes.

She pulled back to stroke his cheek with her thumb tenderly and he granted her with the shakiest of smiles as he whispered back, "Thanks May."

It seemed that she had to force her hand to drop as she took a deliberately step back from him. Suspiciously, her fingers came up to swipe at her eyes - making it clear to Peter that she was crying. "Be safe."

Peter swallowed as he watched her retreat to the coffee table to grab the abandoned mugs before taking it to the kitchen. "I will."

….

The radio was off in the car. And for a while, all was quiet between the two. All that was heard was the ever-present thrum of the engine and the echoes of traffic that one just automatically correlated with New York City. They were nearly to the airport when Peter finally spoke up, peering out the window as he did so. "Happy, can you do me a favor?"

Happy shot him a glance through the rearview mirror. "Sure."

Swallowing, Peter tore his gaze away from the other cars on the highway to look forward toward the driver's seat. "Can you keep an eye on May while I'm gone? Make sure that she's safe? I hate the idea of leaving her alone in that apartment…"

Shoulders softening, Happy gave him a short smile. "Sure, Kid. Don't worry about your aunt. You just worry about finding Mary Jane."

A sardonic laugh escaped Peter before he could stop it. "Since when do you care about Mary Jane?"

It was a valid question. There was a time when Happy absolutely couldn't stand Mary Jane. He knew that some of the rough edges between them had softened a bit, but had the shift really been that drastic?

"She grew on me," Happy shrugged, looking almost offended. "And even if I didn't like her still, it wouldn't mean that I would want anything bad to happen to her."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to her," Peter muttered under his breath, repeating the mantra in his mind. "Mary Jane is going to be fine." He had to keep on believing it in order to keep sane.

There was another lingering moment of silence after that and Peter was content with it. He wasn't much in the mood for talking currently. But it was Happy this time that broke the silence…

"So, uh…" He began, then stopped short as he harshly cleared his throat. It was just awkward enough to capture Peter's attention once again as he faced his gaze forward. "There was another reason why I came by today."

Brows raised up on Peter's forehead. "Yeah?"

Happy nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of him. "Yeah… so, uh, first, I got you a new phone," As he said this, he reached over to the front seat, grasped something and tossed it backward for Peter to catch - which, of course, Peter did. He looked down at the solid object in his hand and was surprised to see a new version of the iPhone. He wasn't sure what version it was that was out currently, being five years absent… but the exterior of the phone was sleek and shiny. "It's for you to keep in contact with everyone while you're over there."

Automatically, Peter's hand tightened around the phone in his hand, extremely grateful for this gift that allowed for him to not only check in with May, but also allowed for him to scour the internet while he was on the move. That may come in handy. "Thanks, Happy, you didn't have to do that."

There was a moment's hesitation on Happy's part, before, "I sorta did, actually…" Peter's brows furrowed as he watched as Happy inhaled a deep breath. "A bit of a head's up? Nick Fury is going to call you."

Peter could only fall back in his seat as this bit of news hit him. He blinked once. Looked down at the phone in his hand. Blinked twice. "Nick Fury… is calling me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" It was impossible to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"Why?" Happy repeated back to him as he sputtered at Peter's apparent nonsense. "Because he probably had some hero stuff for you to do. You're a superhero."

There was an insane urge for Peter to want to throw his head back and laugh. Not that any of this was funny. It was the exact opposite, actually. "Well, if it was really that important, he'd probably call someone else. Not me."

The new phone in his hand started to buzz. Peter looked down at it, peering at the unknown number that was calling on the lit-up screen.

"That's probably him," Happy said pointedly, his voice urging without words for Peter to answer the phone.

A noise that could only be described as a cross between a snort and a sputter escaped Peter's throat. "I don't really want to talk to Nick Fury." His voice was rising with each word from the amount of stress he was feeling currently.

"Answer it." Happy pressed, his voice slightly more forceful in the demand he was making of him.

"Why?"

"Because if you don't want to talk to him then I have to talk to him, and I don't want to."

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

"Because I'm scar- just answer the phone!" Happy nearly snapped in his anxiety.

Peter held the phone up so that Happy could see it in the rear view mirror and made a show of pressing the decline button.

"You sent Nick Fury to voicemail?" Happy said in disbelief.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed, nonplussed as he settled himself back in the seat. He shot a look out the window, pleasantly surprised to see that they were approaching the airport gates.

"You don't send Nick Fury to voicemail."

"We're here," Peter sighed in relief, as Happy pulled up the curb in front of the large doors to the airport - the security gate could be seen just beyond the glass. He spotted Annabelle standing alongside Mark just inside of the doors, waiting for him. "And Annabelle is here. I gotta go."

Peter jumped out of the car, suitcase in hand - glad that he didn't think to pack it into the trunk of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Happy!"

"Kid-"

"Look after Aunt May for me!" Peter reminded over his shoulder as he ran up to the doors closest to Annabelle, not even sparing a glance back at the man.

Nothing was going to deter him from finding Mary Jane.

Not Happy.

Not Mark Watson…

And not Nick Fucking Fury.

A/N: Peter is *extra* angsty in this chapter, and I'm afraid that it may get worse before it gets better. Feel free to go off about his random bouts of anger in the comments below.

Thanks so much for reading! Please leave me a comment/review of what you thought of this chapter. :)