Waiting

Sorry for the extremely long time that I hadn't made any type of posting. I have been suffering from an obscene case of writer's block, and have been trying to muscle my way through it. Like I said before, I will be finishing soon, possibly in the next two postings. The problem is that I have the final chapter already finished, and I'm trying to write my way towards it.

So, without further ramblings enjoy.

-N

Waiting. That horrid practice that no one is ever excused from. Whether it be seconds, or even years, every single person despises it. Frankly, Peter was sick of it. He was waiting patiently enough, he thought. He had been standing outside of her patio door for, he raised his wrist, two hours now, and still no sign of her. When they had woken after the incident with Bulls Eye, he just wanted to get out and clear him head. He had no desire to talk right then and there. He wasn't even sure what to make of it, so how was going to explain what happened to another person? Felicia understood that, although he could see she was somewhat upset with him. However she agreed, but she had insisted that they meet later, after dark. He had planned on just walking over like he had the handful of times she invited him, but she had specified his using the "back door". Frankly, she had seemed kind of tense that morning so he had listened to her.

When he had arrived at the bugle, everyone was buzzing about the body that was found in a sewer drain just outside of Manhattan. The police had known who he was, the marks on his body were so unique that anyone could tell who he was. They had simply assumed that Bulls Eye, the great hired killer, had been defeated by a family member of one of his victims. It was believable enough, he supposed. The man had killed hundreds, so it made since that thousands would have wanted to be the one to end his life. But Peter knew what had happened. Fisk had killed the man, and had his body dumped somewhere. Most definitely after all proof that he had killed him was scrubbed from the body.

So, after the morning had crawled by, he found himself sitting up on her balcony, waiting on that increasingly infuriating woman. He stared through the darkened glass, and could see that the damage Swarm had caused was already removed and repaired. New furniture and rugs replaced the broken and stained, all in all, it looked like nothing had even occurred there. Peter remembered Felicia telling him something vaguely along the lines of having the room repaired while they were gone. How the company that she had used was very professional, and more importantly, very private. That the people were very discreet and wouldn't ask any questions, just do the job and collect their money.

He looked up at the sky as he felt the wind start to pick up and heard the first loud boom of the night. "Great." He looked to the east, and saw the sky flash white and turned back to the door, hoping to see a shadow move, or a light to spark on and show him that she had arrived. Another thunder strike echoed through the city, and turning, he saw a bolt of lightning arc across the sky. Again the heavens rumbled, and he sadly realized that it was much closer than before. "Another minute, and she won't want to let me in." As if taking cue from his words, the sky spilt open like a wound. Peter pulled himself closer to the glass, trying to escape the water that was now pouring down, pelting him with help from the wind.

Growling and recognizing defeat, Peter stepped back, and rapped his knuckles against the glass, silently begging that a certain female would answer. Realizing the gesture was pointless, he looked to the sky and prayed that some God would have at least a little pity on him. "Where the hell is she?"

A feminine laugh filled his ears, and he turned, only to see no one. His momentary confusion seemed to only increase the pleasure of the one who was laughing. Alpha. The creature that was floating around inside his head. The voice that, in most cases was a blessing, was quickly becoming an annoying curse. Like the little sister he was thankful he never had. "Ya know, you are enjoying this way too much."

Yes, I am. He turned again to the glass, and the scene remained unchanged. No light. No movement. No Felicia. Relax. She is probably just making you wait on purpose. She most likely just wants to see you angry, worried, concerned, and most importantly, waiting for her. He thought about what Alpha said. True, Felicia always did enjoy seeing him squirm, and with the way the weather was currently behaving, it wasn't taking much to make him twitch.

"Are you sure that she isn't just angry about me running off this morning?" Another laugh filled his head, and was slowly giving him a migraine.

I am quite sure she is angry with you. But, Felicia still cares about you. This is just her way of venting at you. You said she wanted to talk about what had happened, and you told her that you would in the morning. Morning came and you didn't. She is just making you suffer the way you made her suffer.

"How did I make her suffer?"

By making her wait.

"Okay, you have a point, but-," Peter turned away from the glass, to better vent his frustrations on the voice that wasn't there. It was bad enough when he was talking to her and staring at his reflection. He already felt crazy enough talking to a voice in his head. He didn't need to stare at his face while he did. However, if he had simply continued to stare into the glass. He wouldn't have missed the pair of green eyes staring at him.

Felicia had been home hours before Peter had even thought about planning on arriving. She had cancelled her meetings with the Hardy foundation, and had completely brushed off her friends when they had invited her out to lunch. She wanted answers, and she was damn well planning on getting them. When he had arrived, she was planning on simply making him stand out in the rain and soak. It was petty, but she was angry at him. He had agreed that they would talk in the morning, and he just brushed her off, hoping to put it off. But Felicia knew that, like tearing off a bandage, it was better to get it over quickly than taking her time.

She had watched him wait patiently, and had to resist the urge to giggle as he pulled himself closer to the door to try and avoid the rain. But then he had started talking to himself. She didn't think nothing of it right away. Sometimes talking to yourself is the only way a person can get an intelligent response. But then he started to have a real conversation. He would speak, and as if he got the answer, would respond in kind. But that wasn't what bothered her.

She kept hearing him mutter in his sleep, like he was speaking with someone. At first, she thought it was just dreams about his uncle. He told her that he sometimes had those, and she could only image how hard that would be. But then the mutters would stop, and he would pull her close and speak to the darkness. It was obvious, this wasn't just some random thought. He was actually talking to someone.

She approached the glass, and quietly slid it open, approaching him from behind. She had no ill intent, she just wanted to figure out what he was talking about. "I know she is just a little moody, but still, why does she have to keep me waiting?" He turned then, and she gave him a smile, watching as realization dawned on him. Granted it was hard to tell, but soon she had learned to see his face behind the mask. The fabric had pulled tighter, and the chords in his neck had tightened. He realized that he was caught, and there was no where to go.

"Who were you talking to Peter?" She watched him stare at her, and she knew she wasn't at her best. The rain pouring down was making her look comical. Her makeup running, her hair glued to her head, and her white blouse with matching slacks, now that she thought about it, probably wasn't the best choice. She turned and motioned for him to follow, stopping just inside the door. She turned to him, and watched as Peter peeled the mask from his face, shaking the water from his hair. She did giggle then, and she noticed that he relaxed some, almost calm again with her. "Wait here." She walked away towards her bedroom and changed, coming back sporting a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, her colors. Wordlessly, she had brought a towel with her, and placed it over the leather couch. "Sit." It was a command he obeyed, and she moved to stand in front of him. He recognized the stance, it was one she often took right before she bashed some random thug's head through a wall.

"I want you to know that I'm not mad at you, but I am disappointed." He opened his mouth to speak, and she raised her hand to stop him. "I know Peter Parker, that you are keeping secrets from me. And I want to know them. I have heard you talking to yourself, and while I recognize that we have to be a little crazy to do what we do, its getting a little out of hand. I can only tolerate so much. I watched you die, and come back to life. Now you're holding full conversations with yourself."

"We were supposed to talk about what happened this morning, but you ran off, and I tolerated it. But you only have one chance now to clear the air between us, or we are done. Like I said, I am not angry at you, but I can tolerate only so much." She sat down and reclined back into a leather chair opposite of him, crossed her legs, and pointed at him with her bare foot. "Your choice, start explaining, or get out."

She's got you over a barrel Peter. Man up and tell her. He was surprised that his spider sense didn't tell him that she was sneaking up behind him. Granted, she was no threat, but still, he should have felt even a tug from his mind that someone was behind him. He was almost arguing with Alpha when she had gotten the drop on him. Peter had turned and found her standing there in the rain, her hair drenched and pasted to her skull with mascara running down her face. True, her words had shocked him, but he was surprised at how soaked and, more importantly, transparent, her clothes had gotten. Like a dog, he had followed her, staying when she told him to, sitting when she said so, and now, he was facing an ultimatum. Spill his guts, or get out and never see her again. Tell her, you know you don't want her gone.

Taking a deep breath, Peter gazed over at Felicia, he could tell by how her head was cocked to the side that she knew he was thinking, and her eyes were praying that he made the right choice. "Felicia, you know how they introspection is good for the soul?" She nodded and he continued. "Well, I did a little soul searching and…" He spilled his guts, even when his own conscience told him to skip parts or just flat out lie. Peter felt, and with Alpha's constant assurances, that she needed to know everything.

When he finished, Peter looked into her eyes, and saw that they were blank. Glazed over. "Felicia?" She didn't move, did say anything, she just continued to stare ahead. "Felicia?" He was more insistent, and still, she didn't answer him. 'Is she okay?' He heard a huff of exasperation, and knew it was directed at his question. Give her a touch, she might just still be figuring this all out. When I told you to tell her, I figured you would be more humorous, more gentle. Not laying it out like a science presentation. Taking the hint, Peter reached out and grasped her hand. The contact seemed to snap her out of the trance, and Felicia turned and gave him a tired smile.

"Your life just can't be simple, can it?" He laughed then. If she was able to joke around about it, it can't mean that he is in that much trouble.

"If it was, would you want to be with me?" She rose then, and ignoring the clammy feel of his suit, sat down in his lap.

"So, you have a woman crawling around in your head?"

"That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."

"Well," she started pulling at his shirt, and obligingly, allowed her to pull it off. "That explains a few things." Peter was to engrossed in her as she pulled her shirt off like it was burning that he missed the statement.

"Sorry?" Laughing, she pulled him close.

"Lets just say, it makes sense how you knew my body, and why you like to cuddle." Standing up, she quickly peeled down her jeans and motioned with her head her bedroom. "What do you say we break in my new bed?" To say that Peter was surprised by the way she was acting, would have been a misunderstanding. He expected coldness, for her to tell him he's crazy and to get out, something, just not this. But for once, he truly couldn't think anymore, about the conversation, the ever incessant voice echoing around in his skull, about anything. He just grinned as he dove off the couch and towards the doorway.

"Explain to me again, sweet husband of mine, why you insisted on going there alone?" Peter calmly reached for the radio that hung from his belt as he climbed the side of the Fisk building. A lonely black shadow on an otherwise spotless white building. As he grasped the object, his eyes never left the grate that was still ahead of him. When he had arrived, it seemed like choosing the one that was thirty stories up, in the middle of the building, was a good idea. Now, getting tired of the climb, he wasn't so sure.

"Because darling wife, I am only doing surveillance. No taking, no confrontations, just looking." Peter chuckled as he released the key for her to respond. After having some of the best sex in a while, they were both feeling good. It didn't even bother him that the Bugle thought they were married. It just made the whole situation they were in a little more light-hearted. It gave them something to laugh at.

"Fine, but when you're done, please come see me." Peter didn't missing the silent hint. She only said 'please' out of habit. He was expected to stop by when he finished up at the tower. And he knew there would be hell to pay if he didn't.

"Sounds good, going silent." He turned off the radio without waiting for her reply. He was getting tired, and the sooner he finished up here, the sooner he would be able to swing by her place. When he reached the grate, it pulled loose easily. Smiling, he starting to crawl through the vent, until he realized it was darker than hell and he couldn't see. "I don't suppose you could fix this?" Silence greeted him, but he felt a burning sting behind his eyes. After trying to rub the sensation away and somewhat succeeding, he discovered the tunnel, which had been completely covered in shadow, now seemed to glow with light. "Didn't know you could do that." He heard her laugh, and smiled. That's okay, neither did I. Peter faltered for only a moment, but kept going, he wanted to get this done, tonight.

As he laid in Felicia's bed, Peter figured that this game between him and Fisk had gone on long enough. He wanted him gone, but he knew prison wouldn't do it. He knew the fat man would walk, or most likely waddle, out of the prison on some minor complication before they had even gotten him fingerprinted. He needed hard proof to keep him there, and for someone to put him down like the dog he was. He wouldn't kill the man himself. The last thing he needed was for someone to suspect that Spider Man had anything to do with him. If he did, Fisk would die the billionaire philanthropist who was killed by an insane man in a mask. 'No,' he started to crawl up, and leveled out when he reached the top floors vents. "He needs to die as a killer and an animal."

As he crawled, Peter suddenly found his path blocked. It wasn't a fan blade, those were simple enough to get around. This was something new. It was as big as a shoebox he figured, with a thin, tight wire going from it across the vent, effectively blocking the path. He thought about just brushing it aside, but stopped. As he focused more on the object than his goals, he could make out the faint raised writing, 'point towards enemy'. "Perfect," he rested his head in his hands. "A claymore."

Moving slowly, he grasped the object, and carefully reached into the back carried. Slowly, he brought it to his face, and after sorting through it, found what he was looking for, a small probe, its end scorched. Gently, he placed the probe's end into the junction where the wire entered the device. Pushing it down, he raised his hand, and grasped the wire that blocked the path. "Here's where I say something memorable." He jerked the wire free and shut his eyes, but no explosion came. Opening them slowly, he saw that the device remained unchanged, and the wire hung limp in his hand. A short blast of webbing kept the pressure on the device, and he crawled forward again. "That wasn't so…" As Peter rounded the corner, he saw what seemed like hundreds of wires blocking his destination at the end. "Hard?" He groaned and proceeded closer to the first. You didn't think it was going to be easy, did you? "Just shut up."

After what felt like hours of crawling and disarming, Peter found himself sitting in front of the main vent to Fisk's office. When he approached the opening, he started clawing at his eyes, the light blinding him was so intense it was painful. As he fought the urge to scream, he felt the light and pain receding, followed by a whispered apology. Sorry, wasn't paying attention. As his vision cleared, he could see from his position, the man staring down into a computer, enormous hands moving swiftly over the keys. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to take him, but he felt himself calming. Peter enough, you make a move, and he'll beef up security even more. You thought it was hard getting in here before? Can you imagine if he decided to change it?

Realizing she was right, he pulled the pack he carried closer, and after sorting through the contents, dragged out a small camera. Angling it, he pulled a small side screen free, and after examining it, tilted the lens until he was satisfied. Next, he took a small microphone free, and carefully placed it against the grating of the vent. He took the utmost care to make sure that it wasn't past the opening. The last thing he wanted was for someone to even look up here. Finished, he looked around the vent, and with relief, saw that it was filled with cob-webs, that now covered him. See, they don't even open these things to clean in here. His eyes fell to the man sitting down below him. He will never know anything was up here.

Finished, Peter started his crawl back to the outside, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Collecting evidence that could be used against the man. Even if he got anything incriminating, how long would it keep him locked away. Hell, who would even want to talk the risk. If anyone really believes that Wilson Fisk is the legendary king of organized crime, who would be brave enough to tell others. True, he knew one person who would be, but who listen to him, of all people? But recently, people are starting to notice what he had been saying, that he may have a point.

When he exited the building, Peter reclined against its surface, and pulled a small laptop free. After pressing the proper keys, he found himself viewing Fisk through the camera, the sound coming through clearly. The man had left the desk, and was walking around, talking to someone he couldn't see. "Now, Mr. Keys, I understand you have a large amount of QNB(1) you wish to move through my city, correct?"

"Yes sir, Mr. King Pin. My guys have a warehouse worth of the stuff. We just need to keep it here for a few weeks, a month at the most. I have a few friends in Libya that are very interested in acquiring it. I was hoping we could come to an arrangement."

"Keys, we both know how dangerous that is. I am afraid that I am going to have to charge you twice your current rate."

"Excuse me?"

"QNB is at the very least, a dangerous hallucinogenic drug. What were to happen if someone were to discover you wares and then contact the police, who would most definitely realize that I own the building and then tie you to me? I simply cannot take that risk if I am not amply rewarded for taking such an endeavor."

"But-."

"Keys have you been exposed to that toxin, that you are now having trouble comprehending me? Either pay, or I can simply have you removed, and simply sell the QNB myself. Your choice, although, I strongly suggest you just do what I ask, considering you already have a buyer lined up." Peter heard the groan, and then saw the man. Alex Keys, the guy looked more like a librarian that someone who sold chemical weapons. A thin balding man who stood at the most five foot four. He was always seen wearing the same thing, black suit slacks, and a grey shirt with a white vest. Peter had seen photos of him plastered around the bugle. People have gone after him, and their families only see parts of them afterwards.

"Fine, that is just fine Mr. King Pin. I will need two weeks though to move it out of the city."

"Very well, as always, it has been a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Keys. Can I interest you in a brandy?"

Peter closed the lap top, and after securing it, dove off of the building. 'Two weeks?' If that toxin got out of the city, thousands could die from what their minds would make them see. He had wanted to wait weeks, maybe even a month to bring down Fisk, but this couldn't wait. He had just accepted blood money, and people were in danger. Hell, the city was in danger as long as that stuff was here. He remembered his college class, when Professor Connor showed them what the gas did to a rabbit. How it had thrashed and screamed inside its enclosure. Like it was being attacked and trying to escape a creature that had been thrown into the container with it. He shuddered to even imagine what a city of people would do if they were exposed to it. This was it, this was the third strike he was waiting for. "You're going down Fisk, and this time, you will stay down."

Not yet he's not. He nodded into his swing, angling his way to the Plaza district. "You're right. But I'll take care of that when I confront him. I need him to start talking, and that's how I'll get him. His ego will be the end of him, not me."

When Peter crashed onto Felicia's patio, she laughed openly at him. She knew what kind of landing that was. It wasn't the, 'I'm half-dead, bring the pain killers' it was the, 'you are not going to believe what I just heard' landing. He pulled himself up with the help of her railing, and wordlessly, thanked her when she stepped under his arm. Half carrying him, she helped him into her living room, and when he hit the couch, Peter pulled his mask off and shook his head. "He's insane Felicia," she just nodded and walked away, coming back with two beers. Popping the top, she passed one to him and watched him down the bottle instantly, placing the empty one down and gesturing for the other.

"Take it easy Peter, people might think you have a problem." He pulled the bottle away, and frowned at her.

"He's letting people bring weapons here."

"What's new," he shook his head.

"These aren't guns Felicia. They're chemical weapons. Things that could wipe out an entire city. I only have two weeks, then they're gone. I have to hit him now." She nodded. Felicia had a feeling that this would happen. That Peter would see something that he couldn't look away from. Granted, this was serious. But still though, she thought that he wanted to wait, to make him squirm before taking the man down. 'Looks like that plan just went out the window.'

"When do we hit him?" He spit out the beer he had been drinking, and looked to her, and the now ruined carpet.

"We aren't doing anything. I am hitting him in two days. I'll need a day to prep and then I finish this." He heard her growl, but didn't stop. She needed to do this one thing for him. "Felicia I'm serious, this is going to be the biggest battle I've ever had. I need you here to finish this if I don't come back." Correction, you need her safe. He pulled the lap top free and passed it to her. "If I don't come back two days from now, get that to Jameson. He will know what to do and finish Fisk off for good." He saw her eyes flash for a second, and quickly tried to repair the damage. "I'm planning on coming back, but you know us nerds. We gotta have a plan for everything."

She nodded and took the computer to her room, closing the door and allowing a single tear to fall. She promised herself that she wouldn't ever cry over a man, but he is making that damn difficult. She jumped when he wrapped his arms around her. "Felicia, I need you to promise me that you'll get this to Jonah if I don't come back." She nodded into his arms, but that wasn't enough. "Felicia, I need you to say it."

"I promise." He walked around her, and smiled before pulling his mask on and walking out of her room. "Be careful." She heard him yell as he exited her home.

"Aren't I always?" She didn't respond, knowing he would already be gone. Going to her bed, she laid down and turned to stare at the clock, realizing there was only one thing she could do now. Wait.

Authors Note:

:3-quinuclidinyl benzilate

Sorry again for the late update. Also, just a heads up to my readers. I have seen that you are concerned about me finishing this. I just want to say that when I am finishing this up, I mean that I am finishing with this particular part of the story. A sequel will be coming out. Expect the final chapter in the next two weeks or earlier.

Also, a shout out to one of my readers, Kilowatt the Warlock, and I ask that you read some of the work on his community, K.I.C.K.A.S.S.(Kilowatt's Inventory of Comics Known for Advanced Substance and Style)

Take it Easy,

-N