Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

As soon as the elevator doors slid open, I was out and walking through the door to the Bulletin's bullpen. Coffee in hand, notes and files in my bag—I was ready to inform an army. Thankfully for me, I just had to talk to Ellison and then I was out of here. I was halfway to his office when suddenly a bearded blur buzzed by me, to Caldwell's old desk, handing out assignments. At first I thought he didn't notice me.

But then he handed out the last papers he held and turned to face me, and I slowed to a stop a foot from him. He wore a tired expression. "Busy morning?" I asked, rhetorically. He gave a mild groan and motioned for me to follow him as he turned and started for his office. That was his version of a completely over-stressed yes. I've seen it too many times to not get it. So I sighed and followed him to the office.

"Tell me you've got something," he said, with an undertone of desperation as he swung open the office door, pushing through into the room. I stepped in behind him and closed the door. I inhaled, reaching into my bag. "I was in Harlem last night," I started. The second the H in Harlem came out, he was perking up, his eyes rounding. "I typed up the rough draft this morning, but-"

"Wait wait- you were there? Did you see the fight?" he asked, eagerly.

I nodded once. "Yeah. And a lot of other things—which, are all in the article. Yet another vigilante exposed for your front page. Should get you a pretty decent post-holiday bonus." I unearthed the thick stack of papers that was my article and held it out to him. As soon as he took it, I reached back into my bag. "And..." I dug out a file folder and held it out to him. "Here are the sources and extra tid-bits I didn't mention."

He made a small, airy chuckle of relief, skimming through the article. He looked up after a second and took the folder, too. "You're a Godsend, Fletcher," he exhaled. "I don't suppose you mentioned the Carl Lucas scandal in this?"

I paused, my eyebrows knitting together. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"Um, the news? You said you were there."

"Yeah, but I left right after the street brawl. What did I miss?"

Ellison moved back a step and leaned his bottom half into his desk, folding his arms across his chest. "Turns out Luke Cage is an escaped convict from Seagate prison, real name is Carl Lucas. Guess police took him back last night," he explained, calmly. My shoulders dropped. So I guess Mariah either didn't hold up her end of the deal, or she really didn't have anything for him in the first place.

That's just great. I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Wonderful...well, Luke Cage being a hero will have to be enough of a headline for the Kitchen next issue. I have to get to work."

"Hey, uh, thanks again for this," Ellison stood. "Every time there's a new vigilante story with your byline, we sell more papers than we did before it all went digital."

"You don't pay me to sit on my butt." I shrugged with a small smile, turned, and left the office. I opened with Lucy this morning but she took over for me so I could come here before starting at the Café for the rest of the day. That girl has really made a difference. I mean, I was floundering trying to run that place by myself. I probably should've hired someone to help out sooner. I only let myself do it because I stopped telling myself I was replacing Mary.

Because, honestly, I wasn't. Nothing could ever fill that space. Lucy is to help me out with what's left after the space was emptied. The drive back to the Café was quick. Mostly because this time in the car I wasn't half asleep. It took everything in me to pull myself out of bed, whip out the article, and then open the Café. Then I took Chase to school and went straight to the Bulletin. I pulled into the alley driveway beside the Café and cut the engine.

It didn't seem too busy from the outside. Maybe the universe will take it easy on me and only give me a little bit of customers? Eh, probably not. Oh well. I eased myself out of the car, shutting the door behind me, and started for the front of the building. I held open the door for a couple prospective customers and then walked over to the counter. Lucy was in the dining room talking to customers at a table.

She was gesturing wildly at a menu, talking quickly, probably having picky recipients. I hate those. What's on the menu is what we serve. Why is that so hard? I shrugged off my jacket and tucked it under the counter, washed my hands, and tied on the little half apron around my waist. My arm was still burning and uncomfortable. But I couldn't take a day off. I mean, this is my business. So I checked for orders and got to work.

There was a pretty good line up of drink orders, so I got the appropriate glasses and started filling them. Lucy came back to the counter after another five minutes with her customers. She dropped her tray on the counter with a heavy, stressed sigh. "Oh...my...gosh," she vented, resuming her position in the kitchen, getting some ingredients together.

I chuckled a little, smiling as I glanced back at her. "Problems?"

"YES. You order a chicken salad, you're gonna get chicken on it. Why would you think it's vegetarian? Really people? It says CHICKEN in the title." I tossed my head back in a laugh and she exhaled heavily, cutting her peppers on the cutting board a little too hard. She was practically pummeling the poor things. "Need to take a break? I can handle the front," I offered.

"No..." she sighed. "I'm fine, really."

She seemed to be fine after a while of cooking. I went back to my normal position as hostess, cashier, and waitress. It was nice to be back to my old rhythm after what happened in Harlem. The only thing that got me through the afternoon was the thought of my decision to wait it out. I know I made the right choice. But the cynic in me vibrated my bones with disagreeance.

It was screaming at me with doubts. If Frank was still alive, why would he even come back here? Why would he risk getting discovered just to see me? After all he did to get away? What a waste. I tried shaking it off for hours. Finally, after a long dry patch, the bell above the door jingled. I glanced up from the table I was wiping down and paused. "Peter? What are you doing here?" I smiled.

"Hey, Alison," he smiled back, walking straight for me. "Thought it was time I stopped by and check in on things."

"It's so good to see you." I dropped my rag and walked to meet him in the middle, throwing my arms around his neck in a hug. He hugged me back almost instantly. "How are you?" he asked, stepping back after a moment.

I nodded a little, sighing lightly. "Fine, I guess. I could be better. How's school?"

"It's good. Great, actually," he bobbed his head in a nod.

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head in a skeptical expression. "You didn't come here just to check in, did you? Why'd you really come here, Parker?"

"Is it that obvious?" he cringed.

"A blind guy could tell you're lying."

He sighed heavily. "Okay, you're right. I didn't come here to check in. I mean, I wanted to do that anyway. But I actually wanted to ask for a favor."

"Anything," I agreed, loosely folding my arms.

"I need you to set up a meeting with Daredevil."

"Except that," I shook my head. Then my eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you want to talk to Daredevil? You live in Queens and I'm pretty sure he's just local." I quickly glanced left as a thought came to mind. Lucy was sitting sideways on the bottom stair, eyes glued to a book in her right hand, her left hand hanging down to scratch Boss's head. She wasn't listening. Good. I turned back to Peter.

He stammered through an explanation. "I don't need his help. Not like that, I mean. I wanted to ask him about, you know...what it's like, being a vigilante—what it takes. Like, how hard it is to wear a mask. How in the world he's still in one piece out there kicking butt-"

"Peter, where is this coming from?" I asked, bewildered.

"I want to do more," he sighed. "I...I did some diving, made myself some upgrades...I'm ready. To help people."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I felt like I was about to have 'the talk' with him. I took in a deep breath and lifted my head to look at him. "No, you're not. Peter, you're just a kid, you're still in high school. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don't need to lose all of that," I said, calmly.

"But, Alison, I can help people! I already have, why can't I do more?" he questioned, genuinely not understanding my lack of acceptance to the idea.

I glanced to the stairs. Lucy hadn't noticed the rise in Peter's tone, thankfully. I put a hand on his arm, guiding him a few steps in the other direction with me. "Listen to me, okay? You do not want this. I have seen...great men lose everything from being a vigilante. Weather it was helping people or not—it doesn't matter. Either way, they didn't get happy endings, Peter," I explained, lowering my voice a bit. "Daredevil? He's not just a vigilante. He's a man. He has a life, people he loves. And you know what being a vigilante has done for him?"

Peter shook his head a little, his face sobering more and more with each word. "No."

"It isolated him to the point of no return. Frank Castle is dead. Luke Cage is going back to prison. There's a theme here, Peter. They all end up dead or alone. And I don't want to be the one that writes your obituary in the papers. This life...it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give, and then it takes your soul," I continued.

"What if...what if I'm careful? What if I don't kill people?" he asked, his tone hopeful and optimistic. "If I get injured, I could just call you, right? That's why you helped the other vigilantes. I can do this. Like you said, I have my whole life ahead of me—I can make it work."

I exhaled, my shoulders dropping. He was too determined. We'd just be arguing here all night if we kept going like this, going round and round with the same points phrased a little differently each time. I didn't want him to get hurt. Or lose that adorable, dorky spirit he had. He was so smart. So bright. "I know you're a stubborn twig and you're just gonna do it anyway," I resigned. "Make me a promise."

"Anything," he nodded quickly, eager to have my support.

"Don't ever kill someone, not unless it's down to you or the other guy. They make it look cool in the movies. But it takes everything you have. Promise me you will not cross that line when you're out swinging around Queens," I said.

He visibly inhaled and nodded, slower this time. "Okay...I promise. I won't kill anyone."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. "Be careful, kid. Don't tell anyone who you are, even if you think you trust them. Call me first if anything at all happens, the second it happens, got it?" His arms wrapped around my middle just a second after mine went around his neck. He held on almost as tightly.

He nodded against my shoulder. "Yeah, I got it. Don't worry. I'm gonna be okay, I promise."

"If I had a dollar…" I trailed, stepping back with an attempted smile.

He chuckled. "You'd probably live in a mansion, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Hey, Alison?" I twisted to find Lucy knelt next to Boss, her brow firmly creased as she watched him chewing on something. "Is he supposed to have a doll?" A doll? Where would he get a…oh no. I groaned and practically ran over, sliding onto my knees in front of the pitbull. "Boss, drop it," I demanded.

He chewed a second longer before spitting out a gnarled, saliva covered action figure. It was almost unidentifiable. And, for a second, I thought it would be okay. That Chase wouldn't even know this nameless toy was missing. But something caught my eye out of my peripheral and I glanced to the right. Dread filled the pit of my stomach. To the right of the dog bed was a small, plastic rendition of Captain America's shield.

And that's when I knew I would never hear the end of this. I ruefully picked up the shield and sighed heavily. "I think I'm gonna be sleeping with you tonight, buddy," I huffed, dropping my shoulders. I grabbed the crumpled action figure and stood, then walked over to the sink. "I didn't even notice him leave," Lucy said, apologetically.

"It's okay, it's not your fault," I assured, running the toy under warm water. "It's not your job to watch the dog."

"When did you get a dog?!" Peter exclaimed. I glanced behind me. He was crouching next to Boss, scratching behind his ear. I turned back to the sink and scrubbed a little at the spit refusing to leave the toy. "Um…he's not really mine. He belongs to my boyfriend, actually," I admitted.

"Your-? Oh…" Peter got it a second after he'd asked.

There was a bit of awkward to his tone. Well, what else would I get from Peter Parker? That boy was a rolling storm cloud of awkward and adorkable tendencies. Finally, I decided to give up on the stupid toy. Even when I got the saliva and slobber off of it the thing was still mangled and deformed. I sighed and dropped it in the trash, then turned back to the others.

"No one mentions this to Chase," I said. "I will…just buy him a new one and hope he doesn't notice."

Lucy nodded. "Got it, boss," The dog perked up and she glanced down at him, pursing her lips. "Not you." He grunted and huffed, laying his head back down. Sometimes it's like that dog actually understands English. And other times he's as thick as a brick wall. But he's been a great listener. Suddenly a thought popped into my head as Peter stood from his spot by the dog bed.

I held up a finger. "I completely forgot—you guys don't know each other. Lucy, this is Peter Parker. Peter, this is Lucy Davis."

The two looked to each other and Peter held out his hand. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Lucy smiled, shaking his hand.

"So, uh, how long have you been working for this broad?" he asked, gesturing toward me before resting his hands loosely on his hips.

Lucy giggled. "Only a couple weeks. But, she's been great."

She looked to me and I smiled, leaning my hip into the side of the counter while simultaneously crossing my arms and closing the door to the under-sink storage area. "How, uh, how do you like working here?" he asked, casually crossing his arms. I almost blurted out something that would've embarrassed Peter, but I kept it in. That boy was smitten. The first dead giveaway was the 'uh' he inserted in every sentence.

It was a stammering nervous tick. He's been doing it as long as I've known him. He even did it a couple times when we first met, but he quickly got over that, once he finally realized it was never going to happen. "Oh, it's great. I like keeping busy and this place gets a lot of traffic," Lucy bobbed her head as she talked. "It's an interesting area for a Café, too."

Peter opened his mouth and I interjected, sighing, "Um, Peter?" He glanced at me quickly. I propped an eyebrow up. "Won't Aunt May be wondering where you got to?" He was frozen a second, his features unmoving. But then every inch of his face contorted to show his complete and utter panic, his lips forming a wide 'O'. He quickly checked his wrist watch, only to find that I was right.

"Um, yeah- I gotta…go," he jutted a thumb toward the door and quickly dashed around Lucy. "Don't work too hard, ladies!"

"Come back when you can stay longer," Lucy suggested, politely.

Peter was half twisted to keep walking forward while looking behind him. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah- um, sure-" I could see it about to happen before it did, but I let it slide. His front slammed into the glass door with a hollow thump and he scrambled in a flail of limbs, quickly recovering to pull the door open. Once outside, he turned and gave a small wave before hurrying up the sidewalk.