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DISCLAIMER: don't own Ultimate Spider-Man, only my OC Emmaline, the idea, & any poetry, so don't sue me, please.

Chapter 2: Gone?

"Sometimes, people can go missing before our very eyes.

Sometimes, people can discover you, even though they've been looking at you the entire time.

Sometimes, we lose sight of ourselves when we're not paying enough attention."

-Cecelia Ahern

I couldn't believe it. Not until we really couldn't find him. I could've sworn Danny was right behind me. Ava just gaped at me when I asked her where Danny had gone. Even Nova was speechless. We couldn't find him.

S.H.I.E.L.D. knows now. We thought they'd be able to help us. With all the high-tech gadgets, all we found was blood. A sample revealed it was Danny's.

That was a lot of blood. Scattered.

I don't know who the bad-guys were. If Fury knows, he's not telling. One was some sort of witch. The other, a man in a cape, decked in red and purple. Maybe they kidnapped him. Fury says Danny's dead, or else they'd have picked up a signal. Ava says all of our equipment has been spotty lately, though, and I agree with her. The alternative isn't a possibility. Danny can't be dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD.

I wake in cold sweat. I guess I fell asleep on the stool. I'm still holding the boy's hand. Realization hits me like a bucket of ice-cold water. He has friends. Friends who care about him, who are looking for him. So he's with S.H.I.E.L.D. Well, they won't be able to find them, I know. Tracking devices don't work near me. By the time they would get here it would likely be too late.

I have to stop thinking like that. I have to help this boy- no.

I have to help Danny.

I shift my weight off the stool, not wanting to let go of his hand. If I'm going to help him, I'll have to let go a bit. What if the memories come back?

This is a life. That's worth more than anything.

My stomach twists into a nervous knot, but I push the feeling away. If I'm going to try to help, that will just make it worse. Questions run through my head. How much energy should I give him? How? What if it makes him worse? What if I kill him?

I shake my head. No. This will work.

Carefully, I let go of his hand. I brush a lock of hair off of his eyes before going to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. Then I start preparing.

If- no, when- this works, Danny will probably wake up. He'll need, um... food? Water? When people are sick, don't you give them chicken noodle soup? Well, I'm vegetarian, so that's not going to work... Instead, I warm oatmeal in the microwave and get a glass of water with a straw in it.

Sighing, I bind my hair out of my face. I look into Danny's face for a minute, then grasp both his hands in mine and close my eyes.

The rush of energy floods to my fingertips, and I slowly let it flow into him. The flood overwhelms me, though, so I'm lost in a current of bright white light, concentrating only on the flow of energy into Danny.

Suddenly, I feel a little bump, and I jerk my hands away, falling off of the stool. I feel dizzy and drained. Slowly, I stand, the world jerking itself around. I hear a moan, and turn around way to fast, to face Danny.

A living, breathing Danny.

He's still alive! Now he's waking, too. His eyelids are fluttering. "Oh... watching... Chi?...no..." He's muttering now, and his eyelids still flutter up and down. I hurry to the kitchen, grabbing the oatmeal and water, then hastily setting them on the stool and kneeling next to his bedside.

I don't know how to prop him up so he can swallow properly. I don't want to drive the rod deeper into his back- what if it tore his lung more? The only thing I've given him is energy, to keep him going a bit longer, to try to make him heal. He still needs food, and water, and he's still di- no. I can't think that anymore. I just have to help.

Maybe if I carefully roll him over so that the rod is positioned between two pillows that he can lay against...? I try, but he's really heavy. Eventually, I manage to get him sitting up. By that time, both of us are gasping for breath.

Danny's still not awake, just muttering. I busy myself with piling blankets on top of him, trying to make sure he's warm enough, because Danny's starting to shake. It's probably just his muscles spazzing, but I'm not taking any chances.

I slump down against the bed. After a couple of minutes, I stand back up and just look at Danny for a long, long time. His breaths are ragged and forced, his eyelids are fluttering, he's really pale, and he's still shivering, but he's alive. Eventually, I realize that I'm not going to be able to feed him unless he wakes up. Carefully, I realize that I'm going to have to give him more energy to do that. Not in the same way that I did it before, but just a light touch. I shake my hands until my fingers have a light buzz in them, then touch his hand again.

Immediately, he moans and grabs my hand. I can't get him to let go, and I realize that he's awake now. Quietly, I say, "Hi. My name is Emma. I'm just going to give you some food, okay?"

Danny's eyes widen, and I see his lips trying to form some word that he can't seem to get out.

"Meat? No, it's oatmeal, okay?"

Danny closes his eyes, and I'm surprised to see the corners of his lips lifting into a faint smile. I gingerly bring a small spoonful of watered-down oatmeal to his cracked, dry lips, and they part enough for me to insert the spoon, then remove it. I watch him struggle to swallow. After a minute, he finally manages to get it down. I don't think he will be able to get anything more down. As soon as I turn around to bring the bowl to the sink, however, I hear Danny being wracked by dry coughs. I hurry back, and hold the straw up to him. Danny manages to suck some water up, but it just makes his coughing worse as it comes right back up.

"Are- are you okay?" I whisper the stupid, pointless question. Those beautiful, sad eyes turn to me, and I want to hug him. Instead, I put his hand in mine and squeeze it. Weakly, Danny squeezes my hand back. "I- I'm trying to- to help. Help you. I- I found you. You- your friends are- looking. For you. They- they do- don't know you're here." I can't meet his gaze, because we both know my foolishness. When I look back at him, Danny's sleeping. If you could call it sleeping.

I feel terrible. Staring at the bed, I see that the sheets are bloodstained from where he was laying last night. I know I should call S.H.I.E.L.D., but I can't. He's going to die, I know it inside the way I always do. His friends will only make it worse. Wait- maybe, if I found his friends, but not S.H.I.E.L.D.?

I can't leave him, though. He knows he's going too, I can tell from the look in his eyes. I've seen enough people die.

Sighing, I brush another few locks of hair off his forehead before curling up into a ball and laying there, sobbing.

I'm sure there are mistakes- it's 1 AM after all- but I really want to post this for you guys now, hopefully I'll give it a little edit and proofread later. Sorry! Hope you enjoyed it! Drop a review off and come back soon!

-flying feather scribbles