Here I Am with My Hand

The night air was heavy with the summer heat. Not that Gwen was aware of the fact, being that she was currently indoors, curled up on their couch listening to her music. She hummed softly and slowly, mildly off-key, filing the small space with sound.

She was alone for the first time that day. Peter had woken her up with a kiss and breakfast in bed, a truly amazing gesture considering the young man usually had trouble preparing as much as a bowl of cereal. Then she had been taken across town to her mother's home, where a small group of her friends was gathered. Harry Osborn, Mary-Jane Watson, Aunt May, several of her school friends, hell even Flash Thompson was there, all of them present to wish Gwen a happy birthday.

It had been nice to see all those familiar faces. When high school ends it's easy to drift apart from people and forget all about what you once held in the highest regard. Dinner had been delicious, prepared by her mother, with a glorious cake following soon after.

"It's hard to remember," Mrs. Stacy had said as tears welled behind her eyes, "that you're all grown up now. That you're ready to take on the world and all it has to offer. You're going to do great things Gwen, no matter what you do with your life. You're going to change the world."

It was rather generic and pedantic for her mother, but Mrs. Stacy had always been a avid consumer of coffee-table books filled with motivational quotes. Gwen had laughed at the time, called her mom silly, but now the words repeated themselves over and over in her mind.

She's right. I'm not a little girl anymore.

Gwen looked around the apartment, with its chipped paint and beaten floors. There were still boxes piled in the corner, full of items from her and Peter's old life, ready to begin populating their entirely new one. Gwen smiled in the dark room, the only source of light being her music-player cradled in her palm.

This is my beginning.

She turned her head to look at a framed photograph that was pinned to the wall. It depicted a tall boy with dark eyes and messy hair, holding a thin blonde girl in his arms like a new bride. The photo had been taken during an impromptu visit to Coney Island, where a staff photographer had cornered them. The photograph turned out to cost five dollars, with Gwen forking the money over reluctantly. However, in the picture, she was posed with her eyes squeezed shut from laughter, arms wrapped around Peter's neck, teeth flashing. She looked happy.

No. Gwen thought idly. This is our beginning.

Earlier in the day, after Peter and Gwen had left the party, he had surprised her once again.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

"What?"

"You heard me." He was grinning like a mad man.

"I don't know, you're making me nervous."

"Come on, you trust me, right?"

She huffed and held out her hands, squeezing her eyes shut. Peter pressed something into her hand and when her eyes were opened once again she found two strips of paper resting on her delicate palm.

"Tickets?" She flipped them over. "Tickets to Revenge of the Love Village! Oh my god, Peter how did you get these? This movie is supposed to be sold out!"

"Well there's this awesome thing called the internet, maybe you've heard of it?" She slapped at his chest while he laughed. "Well come on, if we're quick maybe we can get good seats."

He grabbed her by the hand and took off, she giggled rather girlishly as she was dragged through the streets. They weaved between people and cars, ignoring the strange looks and shouts. She was struggling to keep up, but was not all together unpleased with the current developments. The grip of his hand around hers, firm, was comforting more than anything. He wouldn't let her get lost in the hustle of afternoon traffic.

Soon enough, they were at the theater, then in their seats. The movie was absolutely the worst movie ever created and Gwen loved it. Revenge of the Love Village was full of terrible actors with even worse one-liners and romantic platitudes that made even the most hardcore rom-com fan want to gouge their eyes out.

"Isn't this just the greatest movie of all time?" Gwen whispered softly, turning to her boyfriend. She was genuinely horrified to find him fast asleep.

Gwen turned off her music-player and sighed, wrapping up the ear buds and setting them on a nearby table. Getting up, she padded over into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. It was relatively empty, save for a few bottles of water and a frozen pizza in the freezer. She pulled out a water bottle and uncapped it, taking a sip and shutting the refrigerator door.

Suddenly there was a loud crash behind her. Gwen gasped and dropped her bottle, splashing water on the floor and her bare feet. She froze and strained to listen for any more sounds.

"Aw dammit," came a voice from the living room.

She let out a breath of air, relieved. It was just Peter. Gwen grabbed a dish rag and mopped up the water before going back out to the living room. Peter was in the process of re-stacking some of the boxes that he had accidentally knocked over.

"Hey," He smiled once he saw her. "I'm sorry about running out on you like that. Doc Connors needed my help at the lab with this urgent experiment of his."

"You'd think he'd offer you a job with all this urgent work." She moved back over to the couch and sat back down. "How is the Doctor doing?"

"He's fine." Peter flopped down next to her. "He says happy birthday."

"That's nice of him, I'll have to tell him thank you next time I see him."

"Yeah," Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you hungry?"

"No. I'm just kind of tired-" Gwen froze again, halfway through the process of rising from the sofa.

"Gwen?" Peter questioned, seeing her gazing at him.

"You're…" she reached out towards him hesitantly. "You're bleeding."

Peter looked down at his side, seeing that a line of blood had started to seep through his shirt.

"Oh… I guess I am."

Gwen started to tug at the hem of shirt to get a better look at the wound.

"It's nothing, Gwen. It was just an accident." He started to retreat from her, but she grabbed his shoulders and forced him down again. She was stronger than she looked.

"Don't you dare." She warned.

Peter let her fiddle with his shirt until she pulled it open to reveal a long cut just below his ribs in the right side.

"Oh Peter," She breathed. "What happened?

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Gwen traced the cut with her finger. It was a clean slice, like that of a knife.

"I just cut myself helping, Connors. I forgot about it until now; I'll just patch myself up" Peter moved to button his shirt again, but she grabbed his wrists.

"Stop, stay here." She got up and dashed to the small restroom. Gwen started rummaging through the medicine cabinet, looking for bandages.

God Peter, why can't you just stay out of trouble for once? If you're not being picked on by Flash, then you're ripping yourself to shreds in the lab, and if you're not doing that then you're running around with a camera taking photos of Spi-.

She had almost thought his name, almost said it in her mind, that unthinkable name.

Dad.

She had found the bandages, but instead of returning to Peter, she found herself leaning against the sink, abrupt tears collecting in the chipped, porcelain basin. Peter came a second later. He didn't need to ask, he already knew. That fresh pain was always just beneath the surface for her, festering like an illness. It didn't take much to bring it out and it took so much to keep it in. Today had been especially hard on her. It was the first birthday of her entire life where he hadn't been there for her.

Gwen pressed herself into Peter's chest, the cut on his side lazily bleeding into her sweater.

After her father had died, her uncle had been at the funeral. He had comforted her. Told her that even though Captain Stacy's physical body was gone, he would always been there for her, unseen and untouchable, but there all the same, watching over her. Her grandmother had told her the same thing, so had Martha Connors and her own mother. Frankly, Gwen was tired of it. She didn't want a pat on the back and an empty promise.

Gwen wanted to scream. She wanted to pull at her hair and punch walls and kick doors and break plates. She wanted to hurt that man… that mysterious, powerful and masked man, the hero who had taken away one of the most important people in her life.

Peter was speaking to her, petting her hair and wiping the fluid from her face.

"I'm here," He said. "Gwen, I'm here."

They sat on their fire escape, watching the sun set over the city, they had just finished the movie and returned to their new home for some much-needed alone time. Gwen had that lovely warm feeling in her chest. The kind that reminded her of what it was like to be alive.

She could have stayed there with him for the rest of her life, but the universe has a way of being cruel to the nicest of people.

A loud buzzing broke the silence.

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a radio. He examined it for a moment, thinking, tossing it between his hands and rotating it over and over again.

"This is probably Doctor Connors," He said. "I should take it."

"Oh, uh okay."

"I'll be back soon okay."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Peter."

"Happy birthday."