Pregnant
That word said in her voice rattles around in his head long after Carol left him on the roof.
-Earlier-
"I had had a rough day", she began telling Peter. "I was smacked around a bit by some old AIM robots, and then a tussle with Titania. Almost made me want a drink."
Peter remembered hearing from her directly about her alcoholism. If he wasn't already shocked from the previous bombshell, that alone would have done it.
"Then you showed up. Or, I guess, "him". Carol shivered slightly.
"He was looking for information on something, I don't even remember what. It was just the two of us there at hq."
Carol held her arms as if she were cold. Peter wanted to comfort her, but felt frozen to the spot.
"I was annoyed and messing with your head always cheered me up. I flirted a little to see you get flustered." Carol looked away from Peter's face. "He responded though, and... and I enjoyed it."
Storm clouds swirled and the wind picked up, reflecting Peter's mood nicely he vaguely thought. His attention was fully on the woman spilling her guts.
"We talked. A sly line here, an innuendo there. He was brash and confident, and I liked the change." Rain began dropping lightly. Peter, his face morphing into quiet anger, didn't even notice.
"I kept pushing, wondering when you would crack and do that nervous laugh you do", Carol made a small smile, "or a lame joke".
Looking at Peter's face, she turned her head away from his angry glare. "He didn't laugh. Or joke. One thing led to another, and..."
She didn't finish. She didn't need to. Peter's imagination filled in the horrible blanks. His child. Fathered by Otto Octavius in his body. With a woman he had serious confusing feelings for.
Carol spoke up weakly. "I thought it was you."
"And that makes it ok?" Peter asked through gritted teeth.
Some of her old fire appeared in her eyes, "of course not you a**." Her glare quickly trumped his. "I was trying to explain myself, but if you want to be a d*** about it-"
"Sorry", Peter interrupted her. He didn't want to dwell on it. She was here with his child, no matter how it happened. "Sorry, ok? It's just a lot to take in."
Carol hmphed and both were quiet for a few moments.
Peter broke the pause. "So, what do we do?"
She just looked at him for a minute, contemplating her responses.
Finally, she spoke, "we? We aren't doing anything Peter."
"What?" He was confused. Wasn't she here to figure this out?
"I'm giving her up for adoption." Carol's answer rocked him to the core.
"Her?" Was the first thing out of his mouth.
"Or him", she shrugged. "I don't know yet."
She continued before he could argue. "Look at us Peter. I can't raise a child and you're barely getting your life together."
Peter could hear the sorrow in her voice, but couldn't tell if she was crying because of the rain pouring down.
"I'm not going to put that kind of pressure on you, and what kind of home could we provide together? Getting attacked by our enemies, or kidnapped." She took a step back. "I wouldn't wish any child to have me as a mother with all my problems."
He tried to approach her but she took another step away.
"Between the two of us", Peter heard a sniffle, "what could we really do?"
Peter struggled to come up with an argument, any argument. But his mind kept flashing to him comforting a distraught Mary Jane in a hospital room, and thinking that Carol was absolutely right.
"There's not even a "we" Peter", she looked him straight in the eye, mustering all the drained courage she could. "We're not together, and this won't suddenly change that."
A small part of him wanted to scream out and say it could. But it was buried under memories of Mary Jane, Gwen, Felicia, and Carlie, and remembering what he does to the women in his life.
"I-" the blonde stammered, "I just wanted you to know what happened. I didn't want to hurt you."
Peter reached out to her, not knowing what he would do if he made it, but she jumped and hovered a few feet from him.
"I'm sorry Peter." She lifted higher in the air. "Goodbye."
Peter's face was covered in cold rain, but he could feel the hot tears run down as she rocketed away.
-Present-
He just stood in the same spot for over an hour, running the encounter over and over in his mind.
His child.
Sometime recent, his mask formed back over his face. His subconscious must be trying to keep him from getting sick.
What to do now? A close friend was having his child, and he couldn't do anything.
He was a mix of depressed, angry, and lost.
Times like this, he was in a mood to beat up some bad guys.
His body ran on autopilot as he crisscrossed the city. The rain constantly fell, bouncing against his armored form, and the scum of New York seemed to be keeping inside keeping dry.
Landing on a random building, he raised his hands to the sky.
"Why can't I find someone to beat up!" He screamed and lightning crackled in the distance.
Spider-Man sank to his knees and stared at the lights in the distance.
What could he do? Options flashed in front of his eyes.
He wouldn't give up. No way. He's done enough of that already. But he didn't know what could be done.
Through the rainstorm, a set of slow footprints made their presence known.
"Looks like you're having a rough time P."
Spider-Man slowly turned his head to look at the newcomer. "Ezekiel? Why am I not surprised."
The older man cracked a grin and walked closer to the hero. Standing next to him, both people looked over the city.
"So, am I finally going nuts?" Spider-Man asked the supposedly deceased man beside him.
"No P", Ezekiel chuckled slightly. "I'm really here. For a little while anyway."
The red and blue hero clicked his tongue and looked at his old "friend". He looked dry, and incredibly smug.
"So..."
"I'm not a 100% on what's going on P", Ezekiel confided. "I known I'm dead. But anything of the afterlife-"
Spider-Man held up his hand, "it's all hazy, and you can't remember it clearly? That seems to be the general reaction". He should know. Most of the people he knew have passed on once or twice, and even he did on occasion.
Ezekiel nodded, "exactly".
Spider-Man stood and looked at the phantom before him. Using every sense and ability he could, the hero observed the other man. Everything told him he was there, but not. So, unless Chameleon got a serious upgrade, this might actually be some kind of ghost.
"It's really me P", Ezekiel smirked.
The hero's mask peeled from his face, and rain wetted his hair again. "So, what do you want from me?"
"It's not what I want", Ezekiel turned his attention to the younger man. "It's the circumstances that allowed me to speak with you".
Peter turned to the older man with a questioning look.
Ezekiel let out a sigh.
"I sought out my power P. I searched and bribed to find this power. But you, it was given to you. The spider that bit you, gave you great abilities. I don't know what you could be capable of. But I know this much, you've barely scratched your potential-"
"Blah blah unknown potential, blah blah new special powers, blah blah", Peter rolls his eyes and wipes the rain from his face.
Ezekiel sighs again. "Think about it. Everything you've done, is this so much of a stretch?"
Peter stands and looks at the possible ghost. "A stretch? I'm here either talking to a figment of my horrible imagination, or a dead guy that tried to feed me to a giant spider. I'm not sure which is worse."
Ezekiel meets Peter's gaze. "You're not crazy, if that's what you think".
The hero crosses his arms, "so I'm talking to a ghost?"
The older man meets the sarcastic question with a grin. "Would it be the first time?"
Peter opened his mouth for a scathing quip, but let it hang open in thought.
It WOULDN'T be the first time. It wouldn't be the second either. Come to think of it, he had a disturbing tendency to hallucinate about those who have passed on. He just always put it down as a quirk, blowing off stress from super heroics.
"What are you saying?" The confused younger man asked with mounting dread.
"I'm saying, P", Ezekiel started, "that your Spider-Sense might be a bit more useful than you thought".
Spider-Sense?
Peter's mouth is dry as he works to speak. "You mean, I- I can speak... with the DEAD!?"
"Seems that way", comes Ezekiel's amused reply.
Peter takes a step away from the ghost. He takes another and stumbles onto his back, looking up at Ezekiel.
The older man seems to fade a bit and hurries to convince the hero. "Believe it or not P, it looks like this is one of your hidden abilities. You've been evolving as a Spider for awhile now. There was that hiccup awhile back, but you're on track again."
He fades a bit more and rushes to finish, "there's circumstance and rules to contacting the other side P. I don't know it all, but it looks like my time is up here. I might see you again, if the situation is right."
Little more than a voice almost drowned out by the rain, he gives Peter some last advice, "you're capable of a lot more than this P. With nothing in your way, you'll be able to discover that. Talking to spirits is the tip of the iceberg."
The rain washes out the last of his voice, "take care P".
Peter sits on the rooftop, hands holding him up. No trace left of the old man.
Standing up he looks out over the city, unsure if that happened or if he imagined it all.
"So", Peter awkwardly talks to himself, "Carol is pregnant with my baby by Doc Ock, I'm either cracking up or can talk to ghosts, and- ACHOOO!" He sniffles after a strong sneeze. "And I think I caught a cold."
The sound of rain is the only thing that can be heard for several moments.
It starts out low, almost haunting. It slowly picks up in volume and the red and blue hero bends and puts his hands on his knees. "Ha ha ha ha ha!"
His mask forms back around his face and does little to muffle the hysterical laughing. He laughs all the way back to his apartment.
By the time he takes a hot shower and lays in bed, his laughing dies down.
Pregnant friend, can speak to ghosts, new and possibly unpredictable powers on the horizon?
"Bring it on- ACHOOO!"
-McCoy's Lab, The day before-
He had received a group message on his computer from Pym about getting everyone together again.
Banner had agreed, but needed to be picked up around California.
Peter agreed with his usual fanfare. Then he received a private message from the arachnid hero.
" - Beast? Settle an argument between me and flame-brain. The old X-Factor group was just you guys from the original X-Men right? Not the team with Havok, I mean when X-Factor first showed up."
McCoy chuckled a bit in remembrance. Things seemed so much simpler back then.
" - Indeed, that was our motley band of mutants in the team's infancy."
McCoy waited a few brief moments before another message appeared.
" - Ha! Thanks blue guy. Johnny owes me 5 bucks."
The blue scientist snorts.
" - Another question, did you get your blue fur from Apocalypse? I remember you used to have grey back then."
McCoy raised an eyebrow.
" - Negative my compatriot. I originally carried an ashen look, but time changed me, as it does to all."
Crossing his arms, he looked to the ceiling in thought. Grey and blue...
Another notification alerted him.
" - Ah. Was thinking about Archangel's blue period. But Iceman had a thing with Apocalypse not too long ago and even Cyke was possessed by him and they're not blue. Just kind of curious I guess. Thanks Hank, see you when I see you."
Beast closed out of the message in deep contemplation.
The five of them had encountered the ancient mutant some time ago. Warren had been significantly changed by the ordeal. Bobby held some small part of his power for awhile, but did not appear worse for the wear. Scott had indeed held his being briefly, but outwardly appeared fine. His behavior did veer shortly after that encounter though.
Hank began pacing the lab.
Jean, sweet Jean Grey was the only one unscathed by Apocalypse. Or so it would seem.
He DID hold onto some of her genetic material, used here and there for scientific reasons (and Scott's and/or Logan's incessant need to keep locks of hair and such).
Bobby and Warren were here at the mansion, and he himself was equally present, if not more so.
Warren obviously carried the touch of Apocalypse since their early encounter. If he could find traces in Bobby and himself...
If Jean's remains held anything...
Then what could be said of their fifth member?
Hank locked his lab and started a pot of coffee. He turned to his computer and made a quick suggestion of locale for his meeting in a few days.
It would be good to have peers to bounce his theories off of.
Hitting send, Hank McCoy turned to his equipment.
"Oh my stars and garters. This may change everything".