A week came and went, and still no answers.

In a way, Peter felt like this should be a good thing. The doctor had told him and May that there was a fifty-fifty chance that everything May had been exposed to essentially cancelled each other out since there were no immediate physical effects obvious. His aunt had endured daily testing and observation, and all signs seemed to point to her being in the clear. Still, Peter couldn't help but have a bad feeling that they were getting off too easily right now.

May was so strong through it all. It probably helped that she knew all the doctors and other nurses so well, but she simply did whatever they told her to do with no questions asked, not complaining even once. Peter was impressed; if their positions were reversed, he pictured himself being a much more stubborn and probably annoying patient to deal with. He could tell the process was wearing on her, but she maintained an overall positive outlook on the situation, seemingly even more so as the days went on.

Peter had offered to take off work to stay with her, but she'd refused, saying that the last thing she needed was him disrupting his life for something that might not even end up being that big of a deal. He understood where she was coming from, and honestly, he felt it was the right decision more and more as the week went on. Staying busy between the Bugle and patrolling the city helped prevent him from going completely insane with worry. He still felt a little guilty for being away from her most of the average day, and he made a point of visiting frequently, bringing her anything she requested (that part she wasn't as shy about).

From a Spider-Man standpoint, Peter was having just as little if not even worse luck. He sought any lead he could find, but the trail of the villains was dead. He checked intently on the web, at work, and in every shady looking building in the city (which, to be fair, was a lot to cover by itself), but there was no sign of the so called "Master Planner" and those in his service. The police scanners he piggybacked on weren't picking up any recent activity involving anything even remotely related to the tech thefts either.

All of this greatly concerned Peter. To him, a lull in activity at this stage after being so active likely meant that whoever was behind this was close to their endgame. His desperation was growing, and he was trying to think of anything he might've missed; any clues he might've overlooked in this case. Whoever the mastermind of this whole thing was, they had taken great steps not to reveal themselves, instead relying on others to do their dirty work for them.

Between his concern for May and his fears for the city, Peter's anxiety wasn't getting any better. He found himself having difficulty focusing on the job, catching himself constantly tapping his foot against the floor or fingers on the desk in fits of nervousness. Robbie must have taken notice, because he offered to give Peter some time off to be with his aunt. He refused though, saying he needed to work, and that was true, but for some reason, it still wasn't enough.

He'd considered popping over next door to visit with Mary Jane, but he never could bring himself to make the very short trip. Peter had come to enjoy her company very much; she was fun and always had a very contagious energy that made him feel better. Those were obviously all good things, but still, a hesitation lurked in Peter's mind whenever he thought of her. It was a nervousness that likely meant something he wouldn't even let himself think about and he made every effort to shut down such thoughts when they did arise.

Still, even with everything going on, Peter couldn't help but wonder about her.

"Alright Liz, I'm heading out for the day," Mary Jane said as she walked past her friend and business partner at the checkout area.

"Hey, M.J," Liz said, seemingly making a point to say it in a way to make her stop and actually look at her.

It worked too.

"Good luck," she added. M.J. simply nodded in response, offering as hopeful a smile as she could before walking out the door of their store. It had been a little over a week since she'd last seen her father, and she was hesitant to go even now.

Honestly, even as she hopped on her bike and strapped on her helmet, she wasn't a hundred percent sure why she was going to see him in the first place, especially since she wasn't sure what she was going to find. Mary Jane had been nervous for him ever since her last visit, partially because she feared what the potential results of his job prospects would do to him. At the same time, he had gone through the effort (even if it might've been court ordered) of rehabilitating himself, and he really did seem different than she remembered.

Mainly, it was that she had never seen him this positive before. For years, he'd been one of the more negative people she knew, constantly complaining and even angrily venting about the struggles he was going through in life. Now, however, he seemed genuinely excited about his future.

As she fired up her bike, Mary Jane made a point to tell herself that maybe, just maybe, she should at least try to be the same. She spent the moderately long ride out to the hotel trying her best to cultivate this mentality, but her inner pessimist continued to resist. By the time she arrived, she had resolved to just not have any real expectations. That way, no matter what, she wouldn't be too caught off guard...hopefully.

After an elevator ride that felt particularly slower than normal, M.J. walked to the room door, offering a few knocks. When no one answered after about twenty seconds, she tried again.

Finally, the door was unlocked and slowly opened to reveal her father, whose eyes widened as soon as he saw her. He looked terrible; his hair was all ruffled up and his eyes had a droopy look to them before he'd looked at her. But it wasn't what she could see about him that got her attention.

It was an all too familiar smell.

"Mary, hey," he said, "I uh, wasn't expecting you."

Ignoring him, she burst past him into the room, scanning the area but not finding what she was looking for.

"It's good to see you though," her father said, closing the door and walking up to her.

Mary Jane spun around to face him; he was close enough where she again caught a familiar whiff.

"You've been drinking, haven't you?" she accused, getting right to the point.

"What? No," her father insisted, "no, I don't know why you would think..."

"I can smell it in your breath, dad," M.J. pointed out. "Did you go to a bar somewhere?"

Her father's expression looked defeated, like he knew he couldn't hide it anymore.

"Mary,"

"Did you!?" she reiterated sternly, her blood already beginning to boil with anger.

Her father looked down, and his inability to face her confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh wow, dad," M.J. said spinning back to face the window, her hands shooting to her head in shock. She didn't even really know how to feel right now; so many thoughts and emotions were running through her mind and soul. Her stomach turned on itself and she felt sick, even though she knew she wasn't.

Finally turning back to face him, she dared to ask the question.

"Why? After everything that's happened, after all your effort in getting sober..."

"I've...I've had a hard week," he said meekly, still only occasionally glancing her way. "The job opportunity I thought I lined up fell through, as did some similar ones. After one I got this morning, I just...I needed to blow off some steam."

"So, what?" M.J. questioned, "you just go running back to the very thing that got you into all this trouble in the first place? The thing that got you thrown in jail?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "Like I said, I needed to blow off some steam, and since I didn't have any way to contact you..."

"Stop it!" M.J. snapped, her anger now at the forefront. "Stop it; stop looking for someone or something else to blame! All my life, you have done nothing but run to your stupid drink or blame me or my sister anytime something doesn't go your way instead of taking responsibility and accepting it. You ruined our lives and our relationship because you refuse to simply do the work it takes to get anywhere! Newsflash, the world doesn't owe you a THING!

How do you think Liz and I got to where we are? We started small, and we worked HARD for it. There were a lot of days early on where it wasn't easy, but eventually, we made something of ourselves. You expect everything to just be handed to you, but you know what? Life doesn't happen that way!"

Her father had no response to her words, leading to an uneasy silence filling the room.

"Just to be clear, you get the rest of the days I paid for, and that's it," M.J. said. "So, you better start thinking of some new living arrangements."

Mary Jane then walked past him; she heard him call for her, but she ignored him, making a quick exit out of the room and the building.

Peter slowly drudged his way up the stairs to his apartment; for some reason, taking the elevator hadn't even occurred to him. He'd just come from another visit with May, and still there weren't any answers. By all accounts, she seemed to be doing okay, but the doctors still had some concerns about some mildly unusual activity going on in her brain, so she was going to stay a little longer.

He didn't have any real plans for the evening; he probably was just going to change into his Spider-Man suit after grabbing a quick bite to eat and head out for his nightly patrol. He would probably once again turn up nothing regarding the whereabouts of the Master Planner, just like he had the last several nights, but at this point, it was like a routine he just couldn't give up.

He opened the door to his floor, turning and walking down the way to his room. As he approached his door, he heard the ding of the elevator, instinctively turning his head that way out of curiosity. It was Mary Jane, but she didn't look herself. Rather, she looked angry, an expression that looked terrifying on her, and Peter's mind was suddenly overwhelmed with concern. As she got out her keys to unlock her door, he dared to approach her.

"Hey," he said meekly, "is everything okay?"

M.J. dropped her keys.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she said in a very unbelievable tone.

"Okay," he said, "just wanted to make sure. It's just that you seemed a little..."

"What do you want me to say, Peter?" she questioned, a still angry expression on her face as she looked at him, terrifying Peter down to his very soul. "That everything's always okay, that my family life isn't a total wreck? That my father will always go back to his old habits, that he..."

Mary Jane cut herself off, shifting her focus on unlocking the door and letting herself in. She didn't close it behind her though, so Peter carefully walked in, hoping he properly read that this was an invitation for him to do so. M.J. was partially leaning against the counter in the kitchen, facing the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry," she said as he closed the door behind him. "You didn't deserve that."

"It's okay," Peter offered. "My aunt and uncle used to yell at me a lot worse than that."

Slowly, M.J. rotated her body so that she could face him.

"Remember that friend I told you about that came back into my life recently?"

Peter nodded.

"Well, it was my dad," Mary Jane explained. "He'd been...away for a while, dealing with drinking issues. Anyway, he showed up one night after Liz and I closed, showed me some AA card, bought me lunch and somehow started to convince me that he was on the path to changing himself, but you know what I found out when I visited him today? He'd been drinking earlier, all because a few job prospects didn't go his way."

Peter walked up a little closer to M.J, stopping just a few feet in front of her.

"I can't believe I actually let myself believe he could change," she said. "It's not even just his drinking; he doesn't understand that life is hard, and that sometimes, things just aren't going to go his way. But no, instead of reevaluating his options and trying to figure something out, do you know what he had the nerve to say to me? He actually insinuated that, if he had had a way to contact me, he wouldn't have done it. What am I supposed to do, babysit him twenty-four seven?"

Peter couldn't find any words to say as M.J. paused, but she quickly continued.

"He's always done this," she said, her voice starting to break. "Ever since mom died, he has done nothing but blame me and my sister or run to his precious alcohol when things go wrong in his life, instead of taking responsibility for it. I've worked so hard to get where I am and I thought maybe, just maybe, that he might see that when he showed up out of the blue and apply it to himself, but no, he just falls back into old habits! Well, you know what, no more! I'm done helping him! He needs to figure it out for himself now, but I'm not about to spend one more second getting hurt by that man all because he refuses to..."

Mary Jane's slowly tearing eyes met Peter's finally, and she froze.

"What?" she asked, her voice breaking even more. There was so much packed into that one word; it was as if she was questioning everything Peter thought of her anymore.

Peter answered the only words that would come to mind right now.

"I'm sorry that this is happening to you."

M.J. finally broke down, throwing her arms around Peter back, and he could feel tears rapidly soaking into his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, giving a firm but still gentle squeeze, trying to convey as much comfort and understanding as he could without words. This only caused her to sink even more into him, and for a long time, they just stood there together, wrapped in each other's arms as Mary Jane just let loose. Peter found his heart breaking for her as well; each new sob wrecked him on the inside more and more.

In this dark, sad moment, Peter was finally starting to realize just how much he cared for Mary Jane Watson.

Hope you all are still enjoying it!

Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!

The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will He harbor his anger forever; He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities." Psalm 103: 8-10