Peter quickly turned the corner, quickly jogging up to the window of the room May had given him that Flash was in, his wife right behind him. When he peered inside, he found Flash unconscious on a bed, his body strapped to several machines. His mom was in the room as well, sitting in a chair facing the away from them. Peter put his hand to his mouth, his mind racing as questions flooded his brain. May hadn't given him much information, but he hadn't pictured anything this intense.

Speaking of May, Peter turned to see his aunt coming towards him, and he anxiously approached her halfway.

"May, what happened?" he asked, gesturing back towards the room. "What's going on?"

May sighed lightly, like she was steeling herself up for what she had to say.

"His mom found him unconscious in the car in their garage...with the door closed and the engine running," she explained.

Peter's heart sunk.

"He…he tried to commit suicide?"

May didn't respond, but the saddened look and brief veering of eye contact confirmed the answer to his question.

"Luckily the first responders were able to get to him in time to restore his heartbeat," she continued, "but the carbon monoxide exposure has deprived his brain of a lot of oxygen. He's in a coma."

Peter's breath caught in his lungs, and he glanced off to the side for a moment, his legs suddenly feeling weak. The shock of his news was hitting him hard, his mind racing to catch up to its reality.

"Is he going to be okay?" he finally asked.

"We don't know," May replied honestly. "His other vitals are steady for now and he's getting additional oxygen, so we're hopeful, but there's no way to know for sure."

That was it? They didn't know anything? His mind racing even worse than before, Peter stumbled over to a nearby wall, placing his hand on it to brace himself. He just stared at the floor as a sea of thoughts poured into him.

"Are you okay?" Mary Jane asked.

Peter didn't answer her question right away, turning and looking into the room, observing the heart-wrenching sight before them.

"I can't believe this is happening," he finally muttered, his words sounding as lost and lifeless as he was feeling. He barely even registered M.J.'s hand rubbing his arm.

"I know," she said. "It's impossible to prepare for something like this."

"It's just hard not to think that, if I'd been there, if I'd known how bad…"

"Don't," M.J. interrupted, "don't do that, Peter. This didn't happen just because you weren't there last night."

"But I should have been there," Peter replied. "I should have just gone out anyway."

"You were too hurt," M.J. tried to reason with him.

"Yeah, you said that last night too," he said, turning to his wife. "And maybe if I hadn't listened, if I'd have done what I said I was going to for him, then maybe Flash wouldn't be fighting for his life right now."

She tried to speak up again, but Peter brushed past M.J, walking to the door before slowly turning the knob, slowly opening the door. Flash's mom finally noticed him as he stepped in, closing the door behind him.

"Peter," she said, her voice relatively steady. Peter wasn't sure what kind of greeting he was about to get, but he felt he had to do what he could to be there for her. He owed her that much.

"Mrs. Thompson," he began, gently approaching her. "I'm so…"

The woman then suddenly came up and through her arms around him, beginning to weep bitterly. Peter simply embraced her, holding her close in the hopes of providing even the thinnest sense of comfort. If nothing else, maybe this would prove cathartic for her at least, as the woman's sobs grew heavier, each one breaking another piece of Peter's heart. He glanced down at his friend, who simply laid there, seemingly lifeless. As he remained there, doing is best to console a heartbroken mother, questions came back to his mind. Namely, how could Flash have been that low…and how had he not seen this coming?

The elevator doors opened, and Tombstone stepped out into the new lab setup. Right away, he observed as much looked different, with the new equipment having been rapidly assembled and integrated into the space. Even now, several lab technicians were working as efficiently as possible to get everything up and running. He then came alongside his second in command, who he'd tasked with overseeing the process.

"How's it coming?"

"Everything's on schedule boss," Hammerhead replied, "maybe even better."

"Good," he replied. The head scientist then came up to him.

"How's your work coming along, doctor?" Tombstone asked.

"Everything is coming together," the doctor said. "I believe I've isolated the proper compound that will leave my patients with all the positives and none of the drawbacks, and so I think we're finally ready to begin human trials."

"Good," Tombstone answered, "because I already have several recruits that are waiting."

"Everything should be ready by tonight," the doctor assured him.

"Excellent," Tombstone replied. "Now if you will excuse us doctor, Hammerhead and I have other matters to discuss."

The doctor obliged, returning to his work. Tombstone then moved himself and Hammerhead over to another part of the lab where their conversation would be less likely to be overheard.

"Is everything in place for the start of the trial tomorrow?" he asked.

"Everything is in order, boss," Hammerhead affirmed. "There's no way that she won't be convicted."

"Are you certain?" Tombstone pressed. "After all, Ms. Allan has one of the best attorneys in the country defending her. We cannot leave anything to chance, especially that brother of her's."

"Don't worry about him," Hammerhead assured his boss. "He's hooked on those injections we've been giving him; as long as we keep dangling them in front of him, he'll do whatever we say."

"Good," Tombstone said. "What about our contacts at the city newspapers?"

"All of them have been contacted," Hammerhead replied. "All of them are on board...except one."

"Which one?" Tombstone questioned, though suspicions were already forming in his mind.

"The Bugle," Hammerhead confirmed. "The guy we reached out to turned down our generous offer. I was going to send some of our boys to his place tonight to help him understand how things are going to work."

"No," Tombstone replied sternly.

"No?" Hammerhead questioned.

"When it comes to the Bugle, the reporter isn't the problem," Tombstone reasoned. "Let me handle this one personally. Resorting to harsher terms now could only make things worse for us."

"Whatever you say," Hammerhead replied. "Oh, and one more thing: our guy in the precinct says that detective is getting more and more serious about investigating the Allan case."

"Does he believe her to be a threat?" Tombstone questioned.

"He says that she's pushed past all his attempts to shut her down on the case. In other words, she's stubborn, and she's idealistic, so yes."

"Then send someone to handle it," Tombstone replied. "But make sure that it looks clean."

"Yes sir, boss," Hammerhead replied.

Peter stepped out, wanting to allow Flash's mom some privacy with her son after the emotional venting session she'd just had. He'd told her to let him know if there was anything that she needed, which she'd agreed to and expressed gratitude for. As he closed the door behind him, he glanced up and was surprised to find his wife sitting in a chair not far from where he'd left her. She immediately came up to him after making eye contact.

"I thought you would've gone back to work?" Peter questioned, his stomach feeling a little knotted as the memory of how he'd last spoken to her came to mind.

"I told them that I would be out for a while, maybe the rest of the day," M.J. replied, her tone indicating she was treading lightly as well. "I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

Peter couldn't even so much as nod in response, momentarily breaking eye contact with his wife before reacknowledging her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier. It's not you I blame for this."

"I know," M.J. replied, "and I'm sorry if I was pushing too hard or said the wrong thing."

"No," Peter confirmed, coming alongside her, the two now strolling away from the room. "I just... I know logically that things just played out the way they did last night and maybe there was nothing I could do about it, but it's just hard not to feel like I could have done more, that I should have done more. It's not just last night though; I feel like I've just been so caught up in everything recently that I ended up neglecting him when I should have been there for him. Maybe I could have seen the signs if I'd just been around more."

"I guess all we can hope for now is that he'll pull through," M.J. said. "I have to believe that you'll get another chance."

"I hope so," Peter replied, "but I've been trying to think the same way about Eddie, and that hasn't happened yet."

"Is there any chance what happened to him is playing into this in your head at all?" M.J. questioned.

Peter looked down before replying.

"Maybe," he said, pausing in his stroll. "It's just hard to think that I've failed two friends. I think of Anne and Mrs. Thompson too; they've had to suffer because of what's happened as well. I just... I just wish I could've done more to help both of them."

M.J. let out a light huff through her nose, reaching up and gently putting her hand to Peter's cheek.

"You are the kindest, most caring person I know," she said. "I know that a lot is uncertain right now, but I believe with all my heart that, if and when they both come around, you'll do everything you can to help them."

Peter took his wife's hand in his own, gently kissing it twice as he tried to soak in her reassurances.

"What if it's not enough?" he asked.

M.J. shrugged.

"Then I guess we have to accept that that we did our best."

"I get the feeling that we're not talking about just me anymore," Peter observed.

"Sorry," M.J. replied. "I guess it just came out that way."

"What I'm going through doesn't suddenly invalidate what's happening with Liz," Peter assured his wife. "Personally, I think your advice was pretty spot on for you, too."

M.J. allowed a light smile.

"Then I guess we'll both just have to settle for our best."

Peter leaned in, giving his wife a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Come on," he said, the two of them putting an arm around the other as they continued walking.

Hearing the tapping on his window, Robbie glanced out to find Glory standing at the entryway to his office.

"Mr. Robertson, there's someone here to see you," she said.

Sliding in his chair a little, he glanced out to find who it was, and his heart instinctively sped up at the sight of his childhood friend before he collected himself.

"Send him in," he instructed. Glory then turned back and got Lonnie, who'd been waiting near her desk. It was so strange; he seemed to be nothing short of polite and courteous to her. It seemed like a far cry from the Lonnie he knew; granted, it had been many years since they'd hung out like they used to, but given the nature of his last visit, he doubted that the man had shed his old self, even if his skin was different.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Robertson," the man replied.

"What do you want, Lonnie?" Robbie said, wanting to get straight to the point. Interestingly, Lonnie's body language barely even changed this time, indicating he wasn't ready to drop his more friendly façade as quickly this time.

"You know, I think that we got off on the wrong foot when I came to see you the other day," he said. "Perhaps we should take the proper time to catch up in earnest, like old friends do. How about we catch up over dinner tonight? You know, talk about old times, and new?"

"I'm sorry, Lonnie, but I'm afraid that I already have plans with my family," Robbie countered.

"Oh, come on, Joe," Lonnie continued. "I own a nice little place not far from here. I won't keep you long."

"I'm sorry, but my answer is the same," Robbie replied, holding his ground as he tried to return his attention to his work.

"I insist."

Robbie glanced back up, and something in Lonnie's eyes had changed; there was something in them that he couldn't quite peg. It wasn't anger, but a seriousness, a determination, a resolution that he was not going to be denied. Part of Robbie wanted to just call security and get the man out of his office and building, but something in his gut told him that there was a decent likelihood that this option would only make things worse for him in the long run.

"I still have some work to do," he explained. "Can I meet you there?"

"I'll be happy to wait," Lonnie said. "Take all the time that you need."

From there, Lonnie excused himself, even shutting the doors to the office. Even as he walked over to wait further down, Robbie couldn't help but feel his heartbeat speed up a little more, his head starting to sweat. He needed to recompose himself before the dinner though; Lonnie was likely pressing him for something, just like he used to all those years ago, and he needed to know what it was about and why. Essentially, he'd have to break out his reporter hat again, but could he put his personal feelings aside in the matter?

Given that his old friend didn't seem to be giving him any option, it seemed he had no choice.

I sincerely hope that I've been sensitive regarding this delicate topic, and if anyone has any advice on how I can do so better going forward, I would certainly be open to it. In any case, thanks for following, as always!

Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:14