Parallel

Oceanside, NY

The blondie and the webhead made their way through the small town, just about an hour away from Queens. An odd pairing, they were. If Natasha had known the kid talked as much as he did, she would've dropped this whole thing entirely. But obviously she couldn't, because she still believed he somehow held the answer to all of this. She didn't know how, but she believed it. At this point, considering the recent chain of events leading her here, in her mind, she had nothing more to lose.

"Is he taller than me?" the kid asked, much to Natasha's annoyance.

"Yes," she answered, clearly annoyed and tired of answering his endless strand of questions.

"... Is he better-looking than me?"

Natasha gave him a look. Really?, it said.

"I'm sorry, I ask a lot of questions when I'm in uncomfortable situations," he admitted, looking back to the sidewalk ahead of them.

"Really? Because I prefer to keep my mouth shut," she remarked.

"Am I annoying you?"

"We're far past the point of annoyance."

"I'm annoying you, aren't I?"

Natasha stopped walking dead in their tracks, to which he was forced to do the same, and she let out a rather patient sigh. "Did you tell your aunt you were gonna be gone?"

"... Yeah," he lied. But not well.

"Really?"

"... No."

"Well, I'm not your parent, but, if you were my kid, I'd probably kick your ass when you got home."

"Hey! Alright, I'll tell her!"

Natasha smirked. They kept walking as Peter pulled out his phone.

Looking around, the town had an old-time feel to it. It wasn't as vibrant and lively as Manhattan, which could also get hectic at times, but it was more laid-back and serene. For the spy, it captivated her. A sense of peace and normality actually filled her. She took cool and easy breaths as the two strolled through the town, not an ounce of danger hoping to kill her vibe. By no means did Natasha claim herself as a New Yorker, so sometimes she forgot that there's more to the Big Apple than the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty, and the numerous other tall skyscrapers the state's known for. According to her visions, and where they were leading her, if Natasha was right, she'd have to agree that this would be a pretty chill place for someone to go into hiding. Not too far from the city center, but far enough not to be bothered with the fast-paced lifestyle around every block.

Peter's phone started calling for Aunt May. Considering recent events, he somehow thought that she'd be less worried that he was out by himself, and would probably come home late like he assumed. If things were really as serious as the spy made it, this was going to be a full-day event.

After moments passing of no pickup, the phone went to voicemail. Damn, Peter thought as he threw his head back and grunted with frustration. So he left a short message:

"Hey Aunt May. I'm okay-" He looked to Natasha for some sort of approval, to which she nodded and waited for him to continue. "Uh, I know you're gonna be super mad at me, but, uh, I'm not home yet because Michelle needed help with something. Like a big problem." Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Schoolwork! Schoolwork, yeah, she needed help with her homework and stuff. We're at the library… studying and stuff." Natasha shook her head out of pity. "I'll let you know when I get home, okay? Again, so sorry, I'm alright. Love you!" With that, he hung up.

"Wow, I'm just very impressed," Natasha commented.

"Sorry I'm not a master liar like you are," Peter remarked.

"I know of kindergarteners who can lie better than that."

"Well… I'm not a kindergartener!"

Natasha smiled and shook her head and proceeded to walk to where they needed to go.

"How do you know we're even going to the right place?" Peter questioned.

"I don't," Natasha answered frankly. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm taking a gamble here."

"You're not gonna lie?" he bluntly teased. She gave him a look.

"What I mean is that based on my dreams and where they took place, all signs seem to point here, in Oceanside. Plus, an image of the house came up in my mind as well…" Natasha looked at a street sign they were coming up to, as though that would somehow give her an answer. "I just don't know where," she mumbled.

"Maybe Karen can help," said Peter.

"Who?"

"Oh, she's uh, an AI Mr. Stark installed for my suit. She's the best. Super smart, can do just about any and everything, like a personal maid."

"Like Ultron."

The kid frowned and tilted his head out of annoyance. "She's not like Ultron," he irritably muttered. "She helps people. She helps me."

"Yeah, that's what Stark said about Ultron… and then he became Ultron."

"Whatever."

"Well, I'll tell you what, if you think 'Karen' can help us, then have at it because my hands are kind of tied here."

"Sweet… first thing's first…"

Peter took off his bag and unzipped it just enough to reach his hand in and take hold of his suit, without letting it be seen.

"Karen," he whispered into his bag. Natasha found this both amusing and ridiculous to look at.

"Yes, Peter, how can I help?" the AI responded.

"Hey, we need help finding a specific house - uh, we're in Oceanside right now, and we need to know if you could help us pinpoint it."

"Sure. I'd be glad to help. Do you have any other details about the home? An address or neighborhood perhaps?"

The kid looked to Natasha for answers, though, her face said otherwise. She knew for a fact she definitely couldn't reference a zip code or street address. All she could really rely on was a physical description of the house. "Uh, the house is white?" Natasha stated. Peter's face turned to a disappointed frown really quick.

"I think she'll need a little more info than that," the kid remarked.

"I know that, just give me a minute," she shot back. "Um, it's two stories… it has a porch and everything…" This clearly wasn't helping. The problem wasn't that Natasha couldn't deliver a well-informed description of something (she knew that from training and experience), it was that all of her vague descriptions were useless without a home address of some sort.

Right at that moment, images flashed in her mind. More images of him, and the hold house he used to live. His face appeared before her again. Her standing in his room. His presence exuded 'innocence' and 'optimism' onto her. If only she could remember what he'd meant to her in whatever reality they knew each other. It wouldn't be the first time repressed memories came back to haunt her from her days of being brainwashed under the Red Room…

Then the setting flashed to the layout of Manhattan. Still far from the scene. She needed them to take her back to where they were now, to Oceanside.

Suddenly, the visions turned from flashes to an actual guided path along the streets, and she felt as if she were traveling along with it, as though she were sitting in a car, going high-speed. This path guided her from Manhattan, to Queens, all the way to Oceanside… and then to the entrance of the house. That was it. The image stayed there long enough for her to get a good look at it, to take in all the details.

Natasha spoke again, "There's two brown chairs and table in the front. A white flower pot with a pink dahlia is sitting on the table. There's a brown carpeted doormat at the front that says, "Be Our Guest." There's no front garage, it's a back one. The grass is neatly trimmed. There's one tree out in the front yard, along with a colorful garden… the house number is 2-8-7-1."

After a moment, coming back to her senses, she met eyes again with the young brunet, who was utterly amazed by what he just witnessed, and then down at the bag, waiting for the AI to respond.

"Okay, I've got it. From where you are, head down three more blocks, then take a right and head down seven more, and that's where you'll find Oakford Lane. Go left from there until you find the house you're looking for."

Natasha nodded, impressed.

"I can guide you there along the way, if you'd like."

Peter was about to speak until Natasha interrupted. "Thanks Karen, but we got it from here. I appreciate the help." Peter was only slightly upset.

"No problem. Glad I could be of assistance."

Assuming she turned off entirely, Natasha looked at the kid.

"What, you don't like Karen?" he asked.

"No, she's great. I just don't want any sort of software tracking my every move, especially if Stark made it," the spy answered. Peter thought about it, and then, after a moment, understood why, remembering that the two didn't exactly end things on a good note.

Martha Walker stepped outside her house to water the garden. While not having too many things to feel accomplished with, if there were two things she could choose to take pride in, it would be her good nephew and her magnificent garden, if she did say so herself.

She was a middle-aged woman whose hair was graying, and her body aging. Nevertheless, she kept on living. The necklace she wore was one she kept from a long-time lover and husband, who's since passed, but somehow never left her. Her cheaply made house gown she knitted for herself fit well to her liking, as she walked about the front porch in comfortable slippers carrying the watering pot she intended to use.

From a distance, she looked just like how Natasha remembered her in the dream. Except in her dream, she was a nurse then. Though the spy couldn't exactly remember what role she played to her, Natasha felt Martha embodied a symbol of strength. Now, from the looks of it, she looked as though she worked for herself. More power to her, Natasha thought. She seemed a bit happier. Who wouldn't be after what she went through… of course, Natasha was still trying to figure out that very thing. From the bits and pieces her so-called 'memories' gave her, all she knew was that this woman, standing in front of her garden, and her nephew, wherever he could be, went through something traumatic together… and somehow Natasha was involved.

Peter stood by the blonde on the sidewalk in front of the house.

"You nervous?" he asked her.

Natasha sighed, a little annoyed by his questions yet again, but answered, "A little. I'm not sure if she'll know who I am."

"Who's she supposed to be?" he asked.

Natasha thought long and hard before answering that question as blatant as she nearly did. How was she supposed to casually tell him that she was technically his aunt, but not really his aunt, but his aunt in another reality?

"She's uh… okay, get ready to lose your mind again," Natasha started. "That's May Parker."

"Hmm?" he mumbled.

She smacked her mouth. "Like, remember what I said about parallels and stuff? Well, that's her. That's Aunt May, but not your Aunt May."

"Whaaat?"

"I told it was going to sound insane-

"How in the world can-

"Just relax. Hear me out-

"Look Romanoff, with all due respect, I know you've seen some strange things in your life, and you've been through alot with Sokovia and all, and Berlin, and all that, but this is-

Natasha grabbed his shoulder, which shut him up instantly.

"I know this doesn't make any sense. But… I really need your help." she said, looking him in the eye.

"Why? Why do you need me here with you? I don't even know these people."

"I need you because maybe…" she really didn't have an explanation as to why she needed him, not one that made sense to him. "Maybe the two of you meeting each other might trigger something. Just something. I don't know what. I'm honestly figuring this out as I go. I don't know what else to tell you. Sorry."

At least she was honest, he thought. At least she said she was sorry, despite the confidence that he got from her. It was clearly something above both of their levels of comprehension.

"Well… are we gonna say hi?" Peter said.

Natasha looked to Martha. Avoiding awkward confrontations was something she was good at when it came to 'playing a part' on the job, but now, she wanted it to be for real this time. No bullshit. No lies. That was the only way to do this.

Approaching the front porch next to the garden, ensuring not to walk through the grass out of respect for their well-tended lawn, the two felt equally nervous as they got closer to the woman. Each hair on Natasha's neck and arms stood up. She wasn't quite sure what might happen when she made eye contact with the woman. Would there be some sort of crazy rip in the time-space-continuum? Or was that just in the movies? As far as she was concerned, if a giant portal can open above New York sending a Chitauri raid down on the city, anything was possible now. So Natasha kept stepping forward, not turning back now after committing this far.

Martha saw the two approaching. To them, they looked like kids. Perhaps brother and sister? Either way, she sat down her watering pot on the porch ledge to acknowledge them.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

Natasha didn't want to make this more awkward than it already was. If she didn't recognize her, then there was no way she really could.

"Hi," Natasha spoke as kindly as she could, probably not to her liking. "I'm sure you don't know who I am, or even remember, but… we've met before."

The woman, dumbstruck, certainly didn't recognize Natasha. For the spy, that was okay. The once May Parker crossed her arms as she tilted her head, taking small steps forward to get a better look at the blonde. Her without-a-doubt beautiful aesthetic striking some sort of admiration in Martha, Natasha could tell she didn't recognize her. And somehow, the spy expected this to happen. Even after what she told Peter, Natasha Romanoff was a pessimist before an optimist, always.

Martha slowly shook her head, "I don't remember us meeting...," she said, more as a question than an answer, still quite unsure.

Natasha nodded, and actually found it quite funny. "Well, the truth is… I don't remember us meeting either. You… came to me in a dream… so did your nephew." Martha became alarmed now. "I don't know- I don't remember how we knew each other, but I feel like we did somehow. I have these memories of us meeting, but… I don't know how they got there. They brought me here somehow. I don't have any other explanation as to how it led me right here specifically to you."

"You know Ben?" Martha asked.

Natasha only recognized that name from what the other Parker mentioned as his uncle. Uncle Ben. That registered, but why was she asking her about him?

"Your husband?" Natasha said. She could tell that triggered something in Martha.

"Wow…," the woman uttered. "Sorry, I, uh… I haven't heard anyone else mention him to me in so long. I just… sorry, sorry, I'm getting off track. No, I meant my nephew, Ben. Yes… my late husband's name was Ben as well, in case you were wondering… how did you know that?"