Disclaimer: I did not write anything at all for Spider-Man in any WAY. SHAPE. Or FORM. It would have been great if I did. I also wrote absolutely nothing for the She-Hulk. Nothing in Marvel was written by me. All I've written is this fanfic.
Trigger: …Honestly, I can't remember. …Sorry…
Warning: Sap incoming.
Navigating the Curve
By Juliette Lyst
Only The Lonely
Main Universe
Bottom Level of Octavius' Lab
Evening – Time & Date Unknown
Sucking in a deep breath, Echo scratched the back of his head. While he was grateful that his 'new friend' was willing to help him, he really wished that the bot would just leave its present 'post.'
Echo remembered how MAP reacted once the bot understood that its master was never returning. Still… it didn't want to leave the lab. It was almost… sentimental in a way.
I wonder if any of my machines would notice if I was gone suddenly? He was certain that HEA would notice, but what about Ainsleigh? Would that particular bot even care at all?
"What am I to do with this?" the bot asked, turning over a piece of metal. It looked as if it had suffered from a catastrophic event, parts of it melted from heat.
"Well," the tall man began, gathering his thoughts. It had not been easy to acquire that at all. The debris from the explosion had all been cleared up, after all. That hadn't stopped him from searching relentlessly to find something… anything. "I need you to try to find out if there's anything unique about it."
"U…nique?" the bot asked.
"Uh," Echo gulped when MAP suddenly turned its eyes to him. "Yes."
"It looks familiar," it said after a moment, turning the piece of metal over. Unknown to Echo, not only was the bot analyzing the composition of the metal, but it was also continuing to scan the man in front of it. It understood that its master was gone—that much was obvious at this point.
Octavius was absent when he was imprisoned, for a certainty, but he wasn't gone for as long.
"It has been a long time," the bot spoke aloud—seeming absently.
Echo narrowed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. He was curious, but judging by how the machine suddenly looked…
MAP lifted its head and looked at Echo, a question in its eyes.
The scientist bit his tongue. He was used to that sort of expression on a human's face. But this… Not even… Here, he paused. If he thought back, Ashley had given him the same expression at times too. But that was programmed.
What about MAP? Were its reactions also programmed?
The bot seemed to shrink in on itself. It very well knew the materials that Otto used. The scientist spared no expense when it came to acquire the materials for his projects. It was a mystery… even to this machine how Otto was able to find all of the components he used was not understood. Then again… It is not for me to know, MAP reminded itself. Frustration flit briefly across its features.
The sudden melancholy was not something Echo was used to seeing. In fact… it looked as if the bot was sulking. He wasn't certain if his gynoid looked like that in her last moments. He knew that she had developed feelings for him that shouldn't have been possible.
"MAP?" Echo spoke, lowering his voice. He didn't miss how the bot flinched at the sound of his voice. When it turned back to him, it seemed like the bot had forgotten he was even there.
"This was material that the Master used," it stated.
"No, I understand that part," Echo spoke up, keeping his tone neutral. "I was trying to figure out if you knew what it had been for."
"I understand," MAP replied, eyes turning a faint shade of orange.
It's scanning… Echo thought, his mouth feeling dry as he watched the light of recognition light in its eyes.
"This was part of Master's project..." the bot replied.
"Project?" Echo parroted. He waited patiently… a new experience for him. The scientist did not like to wait. Not for anything. He didn't like waiting for his food and he didn't like waiting to eat his food before going to do something else.
Watching games was different, of course, but at current he had a pretty heavy workload. As soon as his latest batch was done, another was right behind it. His reputation in the industry was growing in leaps and bounds.
"It was theoretical," the bot continued, before silencing itself.
"For…?" Echo asked, probing carefully. He knew that this machine was extremely protective of Otto's research and projects.
Hesitating a moment, the bot moved to speak and then closed its mouth again.
Just how advanced is this thing? the bald man wondered. The interactions were the same as if he was speaking with a flesh and blood human. Otto's projects and research far exceeded his capabilities.
"I'm not here to steal Otto's research," Echo reminded the bot. "I'm here to understand."
"What is the purpose of asking about this piece?" the machine responded, sounding guarded suddenly. "It involves Master, so why are you asking?"
Inhaling slowly, Echo pinched the bridge of his nose. "This material…"
At that MAP held up the metal part.
"Is a fragment from an explosion at a nearby pier. It's where Otto was killed." He saw the sudden curiosity on the bot's face.
"Where Master died?"
"Yes," Echo confirmed, nodding. After a moment, a thought occurred to him. "Can you… detect any part of Otto on this piece?"
Turning its gaze back to the hunk in its hands, the bot considered the question carefully. Even if it could detect parts of Otto's genetic code… it didn't mean that it wasn't there due to just a touch.
"I can see that I need to do more to convince you," Echo spoke softly.
MAP silently turned its gaze to him.
"If I find a newspaper that discusses the results of that explosion…, will you believe me then?"
It inclined its head in agreement. While the bot had heard Echo's words, the longer the question stood of Otto's demise… the longer it would take to share any information.
Otto had been killed.
But how?
September 14th – 7AM
Daily Bugle
Bleak.
That was the best way to describe how the day was going. The doorway to J Jameson's office was cracked. However, it wasn't him in the seat.
Rolling light brown eyes, the man rose to his feet from behind the chair, stretching. His gaze was unsteady and a bit watery.
Sleep.
It had been a right for him at one point, hadn't it been? When had rest become a luxury? "No wonder Jameson nearly dropped dead," he grumbled. Shoving the door fully open, he staggered out of the room. "Coffee," he muttered, pausing momentarily to let someone else pass.
"You okay boss?" a gruff voice spoke up then. The man who addressed him was visibly older, with a full head of gray hair.
Glancing over briefly, the younger man shrugged. "How am I supposed to be, Tommy?" Managing to find the coffee pot, he picked up one of the provided cups and poured himself a cup. Or… he tried to. The displeasure at what slid into his cup was visible on his face. Coffee is not a solid… The gelatinous mass in his cup reminded him more of Jello than anything else.
"I'm not sure," the older man replied. "You've really come through for us though."
Dumping more sugar than was probably appropriate in his coffee, the younger man then proceeded to pour three small tubs of coffee creamer into the cup. He then began lightly 'chopping' the beverage up and swirled the stirrer in an attempt to liquify what was already meant to be a beverage.
"When I agreed to take this post…" the younger man replied, "I didn't expect that I'd be here for so long."
"Is… Ah… Is the post permanent?"
Pausing with the cup near his mouth, he looked at the older man. "I sincerely hope that's a joke, Tommy."
The older man spread his hands. "With JJ, one never knows."
"I do know," the young man replied. "That Jameson doesn't like not being at work." And he likes too much work! the younger man mentally whined. Instead of being able to swallow, he sucked a bit of the coffee into his mouth…
… And began chewing. The younger man tried hard to keep a straight face.
Keeping quiet, the Tommy still grimaced at the sight.
"The problem we're running into…" he continued after swallow some of the monstrous morning brew, "Is that the Bugle is being negatively impacted by JJ's decisions."
Tommy nodded. "Yaqub, you came into a literal mess," he sighed. "When we initially looked for you, it had more to do with JJ's health than anything else."
"If only his stress levels were the only issue," the younger man grumbled. Once it came to light, the connection to Alchemax was proving to be more of a problem than any of them could have predicted.
Alchemax was understood to be ground zero of the new strand of Goblin virus, one that's proven itself to be contagious. This wasn't the case in its previous incarnation, which leads to many questions as to the purpose of its creation.
To date, there were no deaths, but with the severity of the symptoms… that might be the next step for the virus.
"Mister Le?"
Blinking a little, Yaqub turned around.
"We all decided to chip in and buy some real coffee sir," the other man speaking was all smiles.
Yaqub found himself unconsciously smiling back. "That sounds good Hank," then he frowned briefly. "Has the problem been the machine or the maker?"
"Umm…" there was a hesitant laugh. "The maker it seems. Enough of us complained and so he shelled out money for coffee. And agreed to not try to make it anymore."
A nod. "I see." About to take another swallow from his cup, he paused… looking at the jiggly caffeinated Jello with horror and threw it in the trash. After a moment, he glanced over. "I'd like some of that real coffee." After speaking, he reached out one hand.
"Sure," Hank replied, handing over one of the cups.
Tommy took one of the cups too, nodding his thanks.
"I have to get around the rest of the Bugle," Hank stated, excusing himself.
Saying nothing, Yaqub nodded and drank down some of his coffee, immediate relief on his face.
"Not bad at all," Tommy commented.
"I have no clue how anyone can mess up something as simple as coffee…" after he spoke, the phone began ringing. Frowning, he walked over to answer. "'Morning! You've reached 'the Bugle!'" He grew quiet as he listened to the call. "It… Y-Yeah," he spoke.
Tommy made eye-contact with him and mouthed, 'Everything okay?'
Yaqub grit his teeth. Shaking his head, he turned his full attention back to the call. "Are you… certain?"
Tommy's bushy brows rose. He watched as the younger man paled and swallowed hard.
"I… I understand, sir." After he spoke, Yaqub hung up.
"What's happening?" the older man asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Yaqub shook his head. He folded his arms, frustration visible on his features and looked away.
By now, Tommy understood the message. 'Not right now.' Scratching his stubbled chin, he turned around and headed back to his desk. He was worried, but schooled his features. Yaqub's not easily frightened… he thought, swallowing hard. Whatever was upsetting the younger man was not… What did the caller say? "He'll explain in time."
Outside the Bugle – 8:46am
Same Day
A mostly nondescript car pulled up and turned into the parking lot. The engine idled for a few minutes after parking, then turned off. Two were seated up front, and the man in the passenger seat was looking in the mirror to adjust the fedora he wore. His gray eyes were darting around, looking for imperfections in his appearance.
"You look fine," a smooth female voice spoke.
"I understand that," he muttered. "But this isn't a normal trip anywhere."
"But she's right, sir," this time, the speaker—seated in the back—had more of a mechanical sound to his tone.
"Didn't I just explain that this isn't a standard trip?!" the passenger in front snapped. At the sudden silence, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I…" He flinched at the sudden laser focused attention on him from his driver, her head whipping in his direction. "I apologize…" he added.
"We understand," the female voice spoke after a moment to think. "You are worried—"
"Stressed—" the voice in the back added.
"—And you want all of this to go according to plan," the female voice continued, some irritation leaking through.
The passenger waited patiently. She's upset… he needlessly thought. She's not supposed to…
"So don't doubt yourself," she continued, after clearing her throat—the action completely unnecessary. Nothing was irritating her throat at all.
"… You're right," he responded. "Both of you are right." He frowned then. "That still doesn't mean I like this."
"Understood. Oh, and Gunner?"
One bushy, white brow lifted. "Yes?"
Not speaking, silver hands reached out, the fingers deftly adjusting his tie. "Don't forget your glasses."
"Sure Ainsleigh," he grunted, picking up the black shades, plopping them in place.
"Do you need your cane, sir?" the voice from the back asked.
He shook his head. "No. Not today."
"Fine."
Swallowing hard, he opened the passenger side door and stepped out. Closing the door behind himself, he glanced back at the dark windows and then to the building, its massive logo impossible to miss. Jameson really wants everyone to know where he is, doesn't he?"
Inside – Boardroom
"I know this is an impromptu meeting," Yaqub spoke, arms folded.
The reporters there nodded, while the photographers, writers and editors patiently waited. Their receptionist and janitor were even in on the meeting. That fact alone made all of them uneasy. None of them wanted to interrupt him. Their "contingency" boss looked horrible.
To be fair, he'd had very little sleep.
And the workload was absolutely insane.
"We understand," Tommy spoke, keeping his tone neutral.
"I received a phone call this morning…" Here, Yaqub swallowed hard and tried to steel his nerves. "From Jameson."
That caught everyone's attention, and they focused on him.
"Is everything alright?" One of the editors asked.
Yaqub's lips drew into a narrow line momentarily. "Jameson is stepping down," he heard and gasps in the room.
Tommy's eyes were wide, along with the rest of the staff.
"Effective immediately…" Yaqub closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For now." That little detail got on his last nerve. Why would their employer claim he was resigning, but only for an undetermined length of time?
"What do you mean 'for—" one of the writers began.
"Hello?" a male voice called from the main doors.
Deciding that the meeting was over for the time being, Yaqub sighed and shook his head. "Dismissed."
Almost everyone filed out, except Tommy.
After another moment of pinching his brow, Yaqub looked up.
"… Was that the phone call you got?" the older man asked, shoulders sagging.
Yaqub nodded.
"You need to go home and get some sleep," Tommy stated. When the younger man failed to move, Tommy walked over to him and nudged him.
Blinking and shaking his head, Yaqub sucked in a deep breath. "I agree," that said, he left the boardroom.
Tommy was right behind him.
Both men stopped briefly to see their visitor. The man was tall and lean.
"… here to get that copy." Gunner continued; his hands folded in front of himself. The posture was intentionally non-threatening. It was difficult enough at times for him to get things accomplished because of reactions to his height and lean frame. No need to seem intimidating on top of it all.
"We have very few left," one of the photographers replied.
"Are you able to print another copy, same date as the originals?" Seeing hesitancy on from both the photographer and receptionist's faces, he sighed. "I can pay for the equipment usage… the ink, paper and the time needed."
"What's going on in here?" Yaqub asked, straightening up. He desperately needed sleep, but this sounded serious.
Offering a sheepish smile, Gunner looked in the shorter man's direction. "I didn't mean to cause a commotion," he began. "I came in to see if I could purchase one of your backdated newspapers."
"He wants the one involving the explosion at Pier Sixty and the announcements of the death of Octavius and Spider-Man."
"Oh…" Looking to the photographer, he spoke. "Do we have any spare copies?"
"Yes sir," the woman replied. "It's just that…"
"Just that…?" Yaqub continued. He chanced a glance at the suited man, noticing how quiet he seemed to be. Why would you want that? he wondered.
"We only have two out of three copies available."
Brows rising, their boss spoke up. "Where's the third one?"
"It's been permanently sealed up and archived."
"So… if we give him one of the copies…"
"We'll only have one left," the photographer replied. She looked at Gunner. "Unfortunately sir, we're unable to print backdated newspapers."
"Then how much for a single copy?" Gunner was trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He needed that copy to gain an ally.
"How much are you willing to pay?" Yaqub asked, ignoring the shocked stares from his staff. My staff… he thought. What a heady feeling.
Understanding the underlying question, he inclined his head. "I can write a blank check—and you can fill in the amount."
"No, a check's not going to do," Yaqub replied, shaking his head.
Gunther was taken aback. My checks have never bounced! At first, he wanted to state as such and paused. These people had no clue who he was. All they knew is that he was willing to leave them an open-ended check—all without evidence that he wasn't being deceptive. "… Cash then?" he asked, resigned.
Yaqub's mouth opened and closed a few times. He hadn't expected that.
"Well?" the tall man asked.
The shorter man nodded.
"Then, I just need a price." Gunther replied.
"I'll be right back," he hurried into JJ's… no…his office. This is going to take some time to get used to. Brows furrowing for a moment, Yaqub grabbed a notepad and stepped out the office. "I'll write it down here."
Nodding, Gunther waited briefly and accepted the handwritten note. When he saw the number, he suppressed a grin. He was juggling multi-million-dollar projects, so this amount would be no problem at all for him. "Understood," he offered, nodding. "I'll return in a few days."
Yaqub nodded, feeling numb. He'd written a number than he was certain the taller man would reject, but he just…
"Have a pleasant rest of your day," Gunther added, smile in place. He lightly tipped his head and turned, heading out of the building.
All of them watched him leave.
Once he was out the doors, Tommy stepped in front of Yaqub. "What… what number did you give him?"
The younger man just shook his head. I can't believe he didn't say no…
Baxter Building – 9:15AM
Same Day
Since being put in one of the spare bedrooms here, MJ was sitting up, her gaze fixed on what she could see through the window. "How?" she asked in the mostly empty room. She didn't understand. "Maybe it was a dream…" she spoke, her voice soft.
It made no sense.
But she'd seen him.
Hadn't she?
What she didn't understand was how he had no interest in returning to her. "I kept the house…" she muttered. "Was that a bad idea?"
He said he couldn't… no, that he would not return to her.
Running fingers from both hands through mussed up red locks, she sighed, one green eye half opened. The other was completely closed. "I don't understand…"
From a logical standpoint, she had understood each and every word that tumbled from his lips.
But…
"How could he?" she asked, her voice growing rough. She felt the—by now familiar—sting of tears building up. "…Why? Why would he?" she asked the room again.
Hugging her knees to her chest, MJ rested her face against them and started to cry.
There was so much that was wrong right now.
She was stupid for ending their relationship like she had. She understood that.
MJ never would have expected Peter to suddenly disappear. When she began to understand what was happening, guilt threatened to strangle her. At first, the redhead tried to convince herself that he had just holed himself up somewhere to cool off.
But… crime was up. Since he'd donned his tights, that hadn't been the case, at least not often.
And…
There was no mention of Spider-Man anywhere.
It was as if… I thought he had died… Her concerns had turned to worry and then to grief. Inside, part of her hoped that he wasn't dead… but as time continued to march forward, she was beginning to consider the only other option for his absence.
Then… her shock at learning Spider-Man had been spotted at Pier Sixty—in a battle with Octavius of all people. His picture was right there… though the photography wasn't as good as his.
And…
After that newspaper was issued, she accepted the fact that he was really gone.
But now?
"What was that?" For her, the last few months had passed in a hazy blur of alcohol and too little food. Drinking into the night and barely eating. She'd lied to colleagues at first, claiming that she was trying out a new health regimen. It kept going though, despite the efforts of her friends.
When she saw how thin she was becoming, she had cancelled her upcoming jobs, taking time off.
She told herself that she'd become tired and bored of her current occupation. Some of the luster was gone…
But…
She needed to get her head together. She'd also needed a shower.
While it was a shock to relieve that message from Reed, she hadn't been able to prepare herself for what she saw on the screen.
Peter.
He was alive.
He was healthy.
He was coming home.
But…
"He said he was married…" the words echoed in the still room… bouncing around in her head, and she began to feel angry. Why was he married to someone else? Someone who wasn't her. "He…" she stilled her tongue, trying to take it in.
If the redhead was honest with herself, she shouldn't have been surprised nor upset about it. She was the one who cut off their engagement, not him.
Peter was so devoted to me… Her memories drifted back to how much she enjoyed her time with him, despite their busy schedules.
There was no reason at all for her ex-fiancé to hang on while waiting for her to change her mind. MJ knew how selfish she had felt in that moment… how upset she still was.
Never in a million years would she have ever thought she'd be in her current position. She still lived in his family residence… kept the bills paid. And… she continued to avoid sleeping in the main bedroom. When he disappeared, it was as if her life was put on pause too.
"And…" her tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She couldn't say anything more, couldn't handle all she'd heard. She wanted so badly to think it was all a nightmare. Her current location easily stated otherwise. "I want to forget," she whispered, closing her eyes.
Right here.
Right now.
…She didn't even have the welcome escape alcohol gave her.
She fell asleep in that position.
MJ wasn't sure what time it was when she felt a gentle shake to her right shoulder. "Mnngg…" she grumbled.
"I know you're tired," Susan spoke, holding a TV tray. "But you need to eat."
MJ stared at the blonde through bloodshot eyes. "But I don't—"
"Pardon my words," Susan began. "But you look like something a rat dragged in."
The redhead wasn't even able to scowl at that. She knew she looked terrible. There was no need for someone else to mention it.
"And you need to eat something."
MJ looked away.
"If you want…" Susan began, feeling relieved when green eyes focused on her again. "I can sit in here and keep you company."
Stretching out her legs, MJ moved so the tray could be placed over her lap. "Aren't you busy?" she asked.
Susan shrugged. "It doesn't matter right now," she smiled. "It can wait."
"Oh," MJ spoke, looking at the lone egg on her plate. "If you're sure…"
"I am," Susan replied. She noticed MJ's bemused expression at the plate. "We don't want to give you too much."
One of MJ's brows rose in question at that.
"You might not be able to handle much right now," Susan explained, keeping her tone light. "We'll give you something else later on."
"… how long will I be here?" the redhead asked, tucking in. She didn't want to admit it, but Susan was probably right about the portions. She hadn't intended to starve herself… but she'd had no appetite.
"How long would you like?" the blonde asked in response.
"I'm not sure…" MJ replied. "My house—"
"Will be taken care of," Susan interrupted her. "Don't worry about it."
"I…" MJ sighed, still working on the egg. She was eating so slow, but wasn't being pressured by her impromptu guest. "Thanks."
The blonde nodded.
California – 6:59AM
Yawning, travel coffee mug in hand, an older man walked into a police station. Others in unform greeted him, and he waved. "What a day," he muttered after reaching his office, his name emblazoned on the door. Hearing his mobile ring as soon as he closed the door, he flipped it open and immediately put it to his ear. "Walters!" He sat down at his desk.
"…Hi dad." the voice on the end of the line sounded very small.
Brows pinched together, he set the travel mug on his desk. "Jen?" he asked.
"… Yeah."
"How have you been?" It hadn't escaped his notice that as soon as she stepped away from her duties, she also fell off the radar. Although… "I remember seeing you on the news." He frowned. "I couldn't reach you."
"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." Since she was such a public figure and everyone knew who her father was, the story of the She-Hulk going haywire in a local hospital was broadcast across the country.
Morris waited.
The silence between the two of them sat there as if it was its own person.
Inhaling through his nose slowly, he addressed his daughter. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, guessing that was why she called.
"I am," she confirmed. "I… I was afraid to call you."
That was news to him. "Why?"
"I was being stupid."
Baxter Building – Lower Levels
10:05AM
"What do you mean, 'stupid?'"
Grimacing at her phone for a moment, Jennifer adjusted herself a little on the medical bed she was lying in. "It's… It's a pride thing, dad."
"Pride?"
"None of this was supposed to happen to me."
"… what happened, Jen?"
"I was given an unwanted present."
"What sort of—"
Staring at the breakfast tray on her lap, Jennifer sighed. A large bowl of some sort of porridge was present, along with a spoon. She hadn't touched any of it yet though… more focused on the call. An orange hand came into view and picked up her spoon.
"I can feed myself, thank you!" Jen grumbled, staring at her friend.
"If you could, you would have already!" Ben replied.
"Are you busy, Jen?"
"I can and you know I can, Mister Grimm…" Her eyes widened momentarily, and she flushed, remembering that she was on a call. "Uhh… N-No I'm not dad." Hearing silence on the end of the line, she checked to see if he'd hung up.
He had not.
"Are you still there, dad?"
"I am, yes…" Morris grabbed his travel mug and took a swallow of what would be one of many cups of coffee that day.
"… Sorry about that…" the green woman's voice trailed off, and she eyeballed Ben as he lifted a spoonful of porridge and offered it to her.
"Tryin' ta help," he said by way of explanation.
Rolling her eyes, Jennifer conceded to the treatment and let him feed her.
"Did you find out what else was going on with you?" he asked. Morris had been surprised when she stepped back from the courtroom but didn't explain why. "You said something about an unwanted present."
"Yah. I did," Jen replied through a mouthful. She chewed a little before swallowing. "It was a symbiote."
"Symbiote?"
"It was some sort of creature that was designed to take over the host, and I was unwittingly host to one."
"So that was the problem the whole time?" Morris asked.
Jennifer was quiet, wondering why she was dumping this on her father. Why did I call?
Ben offered her another spoon of the porridge and she gratefully accepted it.
Tired of holding the phone to her head, Jen swapped it to speaker, and set it on the tray. She stared up at Ben, waiting for more.
Thankfully, he was patient with the slow pace she was taking to eat.
"Jennifer?"
"Yes, dad?" she replied, accepting another bite with a half grin.
"Was that the whole problem all this time?"
Considering his question, her expression darkened. There was so much more than having that… monster inside her body. If anything, the symbiote just compounded the pressure she'd been under.
"Jenny?" Ben questioned, not liking her visible shift in mood.
"… It should have been," she turned her gaze away from Ben, a frown marring her features.
"Should I come?" Morris asked. If need be, he was prepared to board a plane to get to her.
Feeling a pang in her chest—wanting so badly to see her father—Jen held off. If the Skrull were targeting her, he could be at risk if he decided to visit. "No dad," she responded. "It's better if you don't…" She cleared her throat. "For the sake of safety."
"I understand…"
California – Same Time
Morris frowned, lowering his head. He didn't understand just why Jennifer had taken so long to call him. While he was grateful to hear she was fine... he wondered what else was going on over there. She mentioned a symbiote... but something was wrong. She was holding back for some reason. Jennifer… Even if he visited, he doubted she'd tell him more than she already had.
Matter of fact… She never mentioned how the symbiote was removed, but he wasn't going to press. His relationship with his daughter wasn't healthy for a long time… The changes in the last few years were a definite improvement.
And he wanted to preserve the peace.
"If you need to reach me, Jen… I'm just a call away."
"Thank you so much, dad," There was the sound of some rustling where she was. "I need to go now."
"She needs to finish eating," Ben chimed in.
"… With assistance," she added, sheepish. Despite her body repairing itself at a remarkable rate, there were still some things she was having problems with.
"I see," Morris replied. "I need to go, Jen."
"Alright," she replied.
"Ben, please take good care of her. She needs someone to reign her in."
"Da—"
Morris hung up the call, amused at the alarm in his daughter's voice.
Baxter Building – Lower Levels
"Why didn't you tell him more?" Ben asked.
"Stupid arm…" she grumbled, glancing to her right limb. Letting out a sigh when his question registered, she frowned. "I told him more than enough."
But she hadn't.
She hadn't explained the blistering fevers, the increasing weakness, the bouts of vomiting… or the fact that she'd recently had a major stroke and a life-saving surgery.
Ben narrowed his eyes, but held off saying anything more. He'd seen her at her worst at this point… or at least he hoped he had. He scooped up some of the porridge for her. "Here comes the train," he stated, hoping to lighten the mood. "Choo choo!"
His attempt fell a bit flat.
"… Are you serious?" she asked, but still accepted the spoon.
Baxter Building – Upper Levels
10:48AM
Sighing, Susan left the room MJ was in, closing the door behind herself quietly. Thankfully, the redhead had finished her meal and was now sleeping. How did she push herself for so long like that? And how did MJ get to the point she was at now?
When did it start?
Feelings in turmoil, the blonde returning to the kitchen, setting the used plate in the sink.
Was it their fault?
They were supposed to reach out to her… but so many things got in the way. Such as the blip—along with them dealing with a critically ill teammate.
So much time had been lost… We can't go back now, Susan reminded herself.
But… it didn't make her feel any better.
Parallel Worlds – Parallel Lives (Alternate Universe)
The Early Herald
11AM
Yawning, Mary Jane tore out yet another paper in her notebook, balled it up and tossed it in the trashcan next to her desk. It was frustrating… She had encountered this before, but not to such an extent.
Writer's block.
What an utter nightmare!
There were so many stories that needed to be run. As a matter of fact, she had three of them… and she wasn't sure how to properly phrase them for the paper. How do I introduce this? she grumbled to herself. Was the problem this… or something else. She still remembered the conversation she'd had with Leonie.
Yesterday
"…et it out your system? Hello!"
It took Leonie gently shaking her shoulders to get her attention. "… Hmm?" she asked.
"Do you know them?" Leonie carefully asked.
"N—" MJ paused. What exactly was she supposed to say? She recognized and knew the man… but she did not know his wife at all. Now she understood who Jennifer was, having seen one of the woman's cases through a broadcast. She was formidable in the courtroom…
But Leonie had noted and MJ also knew… Jennifer Walters had disappeared months ago.
"Is that a yes, or no?" the other woman pressed. She wasn't normally so insistent, but something was up with the three of them.
"I… Does it matter?" MJ asked, pulling away from her friend.
"It does, Mary Jane and you know—"
"It's a non-issue. Leave it."
"MJ—"
"Leave it, Leonie!" the redhead snapped. The agitation she felt was bubbling to the surface now.
Swallowing hard, brows pinched together, the brunette tried a different approach. "… So, what if he contacts you?"
"Huh?"
"Eh?" Leonie's brows rose as if they were a singular entity. She wondered how her friend could forget so easily.
"What are you talking about?" MJ asked, confusion seeping into her tone.
"You don't remem—You know what? I'll find an answer somewhere else."
For the rest of their day, both women avoided each other… but for two very different reasons.
Present Day
Now, she understood what her friend meant. She had given Peter one of her cards and asked him to reach out. If he would do that, that was anyone's guess. It's so strange… she thought back, trying to remember how oddly he acted in that fabric store.
He recognized her, but not as his wife.
Just what were you trying to get at, Parker? She was still trying to wrap her mind around the reality of seeing him there, in the flesh. Out of the millions who had mourned his death, she had cried the loudest.
MJ was the most hurt out of all of this… because no matter what he'd done, she still allowed excuses because she loved him. I doubt he genuinely felt the same. Sometimes, with the way he treated her, she felt like the person who kept his home running and food in his stomach… than his actual wife.
The pain with losing Peter was multilayered. No one but the two of them knew they'd been married six years. Peter had never declared anything on any of his legal paperwork. That terrible nugget of information was found out after he died.
There was no record of anything… Nothing at all. He never even picked up their copy of the marriage certificate.
But…
With Jennifer, she noticed he was wearing his wedding band. He was so gentle with the smaller woman.
And her belly…
At the time, MJ was too shocked to say anything much about that at all. Their wedding had been recent… no way for Jennifer to be so far along. So… Did… is that even possible? She felt a bit sick then. Getting out of her chair, she hurried to the front doors. "Be back shortly!" she called, explaining why she was stepping out. "Need to get some air."
Stepping outside the building, she folded her arms. She needed to walk off some of the nervous energy. She was beginning to come to a conclusion… and it was one hard to stomach.
Was Jennifer pregnant before he died?
Would he have done something like that? Lightly shaking her head, the redhead pinched the bridge of her nose. In all honesty… she assumed that he would. It would be the last of the nasty and spiteful things he would have done. Stepping outside their marriage and getting another woman pregnant. Then he just up and died with MJ being the all-around loser.
Except…
"He isn't dead," she murmured, nightly nibbling her bottom lip. "How did he do it?" Her brows pinched together. How did the man pretend to be dead and keep it going all the way until she found him. "Wait… then that means…"
Just who was in his grave?
Feeling goosebumps, she shivered. Someone else was dead in his coffin, but who?
Did he kill someone else… or just stumble on someone already dead? And how would he have been able to do that… make them look exactly like him?
Now this… This was a story. And she needed to get to the heart of the matter. I have information about the gravesite at home. What she was now considering was risky. People don't like it when someone goes and digs up a grave. And she had to consider who everyone thought was the occupant of that casket.
Grave robbery was a serious offense, and if she was caught, there would be trouble.
But…
She needed to confirm who was inside the actual casket. Her eyes narrowed. Now her feelings for him were… The perfect crime? I don't think so, Peter…
Main Universe
Echo's Library
Same Day – 12:12PM
"What a day," the tall scientist muttered, leaning back in his chair. Briefly, he entertained the idea of spinning around in the seat.
Then again.
"Ugh," he muttered, unable to stifle a yawn. "Nope, too tired to do that." He'd just completed a series of phone calls. The price he was given for that paper wasn't high. It just would need some time to clear through his bank. He'd needed to jump through several hoops with the bank.
To confirm who he was.
They had also warned him about the risks involved with carrying so much money on his person.
He'd still confirmed that he was withdrawing a large sum of money. For what, he didn't bother elaborating on. At least I was given a price. Who knew he would be so fortunate. That newspaper was required to have MAP fully cooperate with him.
He understood. He would be reluctant to collaborate with anyone who wanted him to give them blind faith.
The bot was very clever, that much he was beginning to understand. MAP was far more advanced than anything he'd ever built himself. He wanted to study it further. But… the only way he could learn anything would be through that newspaper.
The doors to the lab opened behind him, but he didn't bother to turn around. Not that the stride alone didn't announce who it was.
"You're doing far too much," Ainsleigh stated, stopping right next to Echo's chair.
"No really," Echo replied, glancing to his left. "It's just business as usual."
"No," the silver bot disagreed. "It's more than that. Much more," When Echo gave her his full attention, she continued. "You spend most nights in Octavius' lab."
"You noticed?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied. "How could I not notice you weren't home?"
Feeling the edge of heat in her voice, Echo worked his jaw a little. "It's for work. I have explained that much already." The blank surface he faced was unsettling. He was beginning to regret not giving this bot facial features… but hadn't that been the problem he'd had with Ashley?
He'd become so obsessed with the gynoid… and it cost him the blonde's existence.
But… it seemed this new bot had something in common with Ashley… notably the fact that it sounded like she could get angry. She'd been irritated earlier that day. Though he was beginning to think it was because of Hea.
"You did," she agreed. "But you never stated what that work was."
Echo's brows rose.
"Nor did you give me the option to help you."
He scowled. What did it matter if he worked somewhere else and on his own?
"You are angry?" she asked, chuckling dryly. Inclining her head in a way that was uneasily familiar, she tsked. "Now you understand how I felt to be left here."
"But…" His eyes narrowed. "Hea doesn't work with me either."
"But he gets to drive you there," she quickly pointed out. "Which is more than I could say for myself."
"But…"
"And I am your primary driver… remember?"
Not liking where this conversation was going and more than a little concerned about how much her AI was changing, he looked away with a sigh.
"Gunther," she stated, her voice firm. "I can be of much more use to you than him, and you know that."
"… Ainsleigh…" Inhaling and exhaling slowly to remain calm, he glanced to the bot again. "I think… it's time I have lunch."
"Mm," she replied, turning to the door. "You never ask for lunch this early, but I will return with it soon."
As soon as he heard the doors close behind her, he lowered his head into his hands. What was that? he wondered, feeling a bit dazed. I need to do diagnostics on her later today to see what's going on. The secondary gynoid was not supposed to act like this at all.
Maybe the problem was in the details.
Ainsleigh—like Ashley—had artificial intelligence that was designed to change and adapt as time went on. This was a very sudden shift though. Or was it? Evidently, she's felt like this for a while.
Even more disturbing… the attitude she had was eerily recognizable.
Troubling still… She seems to hate Hea, which is not good. Not at all! Why his newest bot had such dislike for the older one, he had no clue. He had to figure this out… Will I even be able to do that diagnostic? That was another concern. This particular gynoid might be averse to tinkering of any kind.
Baxter Building – 2:23PM
Same Day
"Who am I?" the redhaired woman voiced in question. She was at current, facing her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.
The answer should have been simple.
Mary Jane Watson.
For a person who was defined by her looks, at current, she wasn't certain what she was seeing anymore. The teary-eyed woman staring back at her wasn't the same person a year ago. The pain of loss had been so profound that she'd nearly killed herself.
How much longer? she wondered. Had Reed not reached out to her, how much longer would she have been able to go on like this?
The loneliness she experienced just worsened an already terrible situation.
Squinting, MJ touched her cheek. "Look at my skin…" she murmured, trying not to pay more attention to how reddish her eyes were.
Hearing a knock on the bedroom's door, she sighed, stepping away from the mirror.
"Have something for you here!" Susan spoke after MJ opened the door.
"Oh…"
"I told you we'd bring you something else," Arching a brow, Susan slowly began to realize… that Mary Jane hadn't believed she would. "Remember?"
MJ nodded. "You did. I just…" Pursing her lips, she sat back down on the bed.
"Didn't expect it to happen?" the blonde carefully asked. "I was here not too long ago to bring you a second snack too."
"Well…" Looking away, MJ shrugged. She jumped a little when a tray was set on her lap. "And this…"
"A much smaller version of what everyone else had for lunch."
Reddish brows bunched together. "Really?" She used the provided fork to poke around at the noodle dish.
"Healthier too," Susan added. As she watched the redhead eat, she lightly cleared her throat. "So, we've all come together as a team and have something for you."
"Mm?" MJ asked, chewing. "Like what?"
"We're going to help you get to a center to help you," she saw the alarm in Mary Jane's eyes. "It's more specialized to treat you."
"But… But I'm doing better here already…"
Susan kept her expression blank. She knew MJ hadn't been there that long at all. "We love having you with us, but… you need help. And it's not what we can provide here," The blonde chose her words very carefully. "You're at least fifteen pounds underweight."
The redhead flushed, embarrassed, but nodded in acknowledgement.
"I also take it that you've developed a bit of a drinking problem."
"H… How were you able to tell?" MJ asked, green eyes wide from shock.
"We could smell it on your breath when you came here."
"Oh—"
"Plus Ben and Johnny could really smell it in the elevator."
"Oh…" MJ had frozen, a bit of her food just there. Now the flush spread across her chest and she looked away.
"This isn't to shame you. I hope you understand that," Susan continued. "But… you understand what we mean when we say you can't stay here and get better... right?"
"Yes…"
"Plus, you wouldn't be left for long stretches of time while we're out on missions."
MJ straightened up where she was sitting, taking it into consideration.
"We'll keep your home in one piece and… we're going to fund you."
"Fund?"
"Of course," Susan replied, offering a small smile. "These types of places can have a hefty price tag attached."
What Susan hadn't mentioned was how much she'd worked to try and navigate a long-term solution for Mary Jane. It was the least they could do… to apologize for delaying so long in reaching out.
MJ continued to eat, but her features were downcast. They're doing all this for me… But why?
"Once you're done, you can come here for a little bit—until you feel stable enough to go back home."
"I… I don't know what to say," the redhead spoke, her voice a bit rough from tears she was trying hard not to shed.
Saying nothing else, Susan pulled the redhead into a hug, feeling a pang when the younger woman started to cry into her shoulder.
Parallel Worlds – Parallel Lives (Alternate Universe)
Baxter Building – 4PM
Peter & Jen's Room
Feeling a bit sleepy-eyed, Peter stretched, then turned his attention to Jen. He began tracing Jen's facial features with a feather light touch while she slept. It started with her right eyebrow, then traveled across one of her cheekbones… his fingers followed the line of her jaw and down to her chin. His fingers studied the contours of her lips. Then, he explored the sweep of her nose, watching his hand move over to cup her cheek.
A faint murmur caught his attention, and he waited patiently as Jennifer slowly woke up.
"Pete?" she asked. Her voice was deeper, husky from sleep.
"Yup," he replied, keeping his voice soft. A slow smile spread across his lips as she became more responsive.
She let out a little grunt, reaching up to rest her hand on the back of his. "Mmm… Peter…"
"Yes," he continued, watching as she began blinking open the eyes that he loved so much.
"Pete…" she mumbled; her words interrupted by a yawn.
He moved closer and kissed her forehead.
"What a way to wake up…" a half grin crossed her lips as she opened her eyes fully. Reaching for him, she pulled him into a kiss.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked, once they broke the kiss.
"Better," she replied. Earlier in the day, Jennifer felt her energy reserves flagging. Quickly. Her recent fatigue was worsening, and now she needed longer and longer naps to get through the day.
"Hungry?" As he posed the question, he sat up in bed, stretching again.
Her lips curved up at the corners, and she sent him a smoky look when he turned to her. "I usually am." Breaking eye contact, she looked down, her hand moving to her side. "Hello darling," she spoke softly, feeling Chip doing her normal afternoon gymnastics.
His hand rested right below hers. "We need to get up."
She adopted a pitiful look, then grimaced and climbed out the bed on her own.
"Jenny?" he asked, worried.
"Need to go Pete!" Saying nothing more, she hurried to their bathroom.
A half hour later, they were headed to the main section of the building. Jennifer was still rubbing one of her eyes. Part of her wanted to sink back into sleep… but she knew she couldn't. Going hungry wouldn't be a good idea.
For her or Chip.
"Peter!" Johnny called, entering the area from a different direction.
"Hey!" the webswinger called back in reply.
"Hi Jo—" Jen's words were interrupted with a huge yawn.
The brunet smiled. "Tired?"
Jennifer nodded. "Very." She had dark circles under her eyes, but neither man had said a thing.
"We just woke up," Peter explained. "Mama and baby need to eat."
"In here for the same reason," Johnny responded, moving to open one of the cabinets.
Peter went to a different cabinet, hunting out a snack for Jen.
The brunette sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting her arms on the table.
Finding the box he was looking for, Peter pulled out two of the granola bars and turned to Jen.
Even though she hadn't been seated for long, Jennifer had fallen asleep at the table.
Peter frowned, sharing concerned glances with Johnny.
"You said both of you just got up?" the young man asked.
Peter nodded slowly, walking over to wake Jen up. "Yes. She's been so sleepy lately."
"Uh?" she whispered, her eyes opening a crack.
"Jen…" Peter began, still rubbing her shoulder. "You just fell asleep at the table."
"I… w-what?" She sat up, alarmed to see the small puddle of drool she'd left on the table.
"Jenny?" Peter spoke, trying to get her to look at him. "Is something wrong?"
Lifting her eyes, she flushed in shame. "… I'm sorry," she spoke, her voice sounding very small.
"Keep an eye on her please," Peter requested, glancing at Johnny. When the younger man nodded, he hurried into the kitchen and wet up a paper towel. Then, he returned to Jen, startled to see her eyes growing heavy again. "Here, Jen. This should help."
Johnny stepped out the way.
Peter rested the cold, wet paper towel on the back of her neck. He felt her jerk in reaction.
"Cold," she mumbled, letting out a small sigh when he rubbed her face with the paper towel.
"Got something for you to eat, Jen." Now that he thought about it… Jen hadn't eaten much in the morning. At all. Which wasn't normal for her.
"Pete…" She felt so very drained…
"You need to eat. You both could get sick."
Hearing that, Jennifer steeled her nerves. She accepted the granola bars he brought… and did a pretty good imitation of a vacuum.
Peter smirked. That was entirely normal for her to do. "We need to go see Reed after you're done."
"Hmm?" she asked, mouth full.
"Just to check."
Baxter Building – 4:52PM
Lower Levels – Medical Lab
"…o how long have you been feeling like this, Jen?" Reed asked, using an ophthalmoscope to examine her eyes. He narrowed his eyes to focus… not wanting to miss anything.
She grimaced, not liking that exam at all. Her legs swung nervously as she sat on the med lab bed. "A few days…" Seeing Peter's frown made her flush again. "I t-thought it was just part of the progression of my pregnancy." She was rubbing the left side of her belly.
Sighing and ducking his head, Peter cleared his throat. "I did too… at first."
Jennifer looked up at him, her features downcast.
"It's okay Jen," the webswinger spoke in a soft voice, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek once Reed moved away from examining her eyes. "I really got worried when you fell asleep at the table."
"It's not an issue with your ears or your eyes. Your physical examination was fine. I'll need to do some bloodwork and get a urine sample. And…" here, he paused in thought.
The coupled focused on him.
"Maybe we need to do another brain scan…"
"For what?" Peter chimed in—before Jen could.
"To check out something…" Reed's pale brows were pinched together deeply. His expression wasn't a good one.
"Which is…?" Jennifer asked.
"It's…" Peter began, his voice faltering. He wasn't sure how to ask… not with Jennifer right in next to him.
Reed saw the questions multiplying in his eyes. "Jennifer," he said, addressing his patient. "We'll be right back."
Her lips parted in surprise, but she closed her mouth and nodded.
"Peter, let's head into my office."
The younger man quietly followed him. He was trying to not panic. There were so many unknowns with her condition to begin with. But this…
Closing the office door, Reed turned to Peter, crossing his arms. "She can't hear us in here."
Nodding, Peter swallowed hard. "Is… Is there a problem with the baby?"
Blond brows rose in surprise. Yet… "That is a far-flung possibility…"
"So, there's a chance that the problem is with—"
"That's why I'll be doing thorough scans on both of them."
Peter nodded, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Have you done any recent scans on the baby? To see how she's doing?"
"I can, yes," he replied. He nodded in the direction of the door. "We need to head back before she gets worried."
"Fine," Peter replied.
Before Peter took two steps, Reed placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't let her know how you're feeling right now."
Peter focused his gaze forward, forcing himself to look far calmer than he felt.
"Good," Reed added, smiling.
When they returned, Jennifer was still sitting up, awake. Though her eyes were beginning to drift close.
"So… Do you two want another picture of the baby?"
Jennifer yawned a little, raising a brow. "Didn't we already look at her?"
"Well…" Reed hedged, "that was more for monitoring your condition's effects on her than anything else."
"Oh," she murmured. "So, this one is just to check on the baby?"
Reed nodded, keeping a smile in place. "The last few times, we weren't able to get any pictures, so I figured both of you would like some. We can fit it in before any more tests for you or after them."
"I'd like to get them now." Jen glanced at her husband, a dazzling smile on her face. "Do you want to?" she asked.
Taken in by her enthusiasm, he nodded.
Reed quickly got his equipment ready… then the soon-to-be parents were giving the screen their rapt attention. The older smiled, but inside he was still worried. While trying to make this seem like a regular scan, he was also looking for any abnormalities in the baby that might be causing the problem.
After a few minutes, he was able to breathe easily.
The baby was completely fine… and very active.
Twenty minutes later, the couple were heading back to their room. Reed had stated it to them plainly. In consideration of Jen's condition, she was to make sure she ate well… and got plenty of rest. The brunette did not like the idea of spending so much time in bed.
And…
The scientist put her on pelvic rest.
She'd burst into tears when Reed told her that… and all Peter could do was hug her and try to calm her down.
Even now, she was still sniffling.
Once they reached their room, Peter eased her into bed and hopped in on the other side.
Jennifer laid on her side, feeling the warmth when Peter spooned her. She was so comfortable there… feeling her awareness beginning to drift. But… Blinking hard, she glanced down, feeling him reach around her to rub her side. "I'm sorry," she spoke, her voice deepening.
Knowing she was on the edge of sleep; Peter kissed her shoulder. "There's no need to apologize."
"There is," she replied, sniffling again. Her mouth trembled, and she sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."
Uh oh… he thought. "Shh," he spoke, softening his voice. "There's no reason for you to apologize. You didn't make this happen, Jen."
"I did," she whimpered, her voice growing husky and cracking. "My stupid body d-d-decided to—" A sob escaped… and once it did, she broke down crying, her eyes slamming shut.
Once again, Peter hugged her. This time, though, he also rolled her over to face him. Seeing the anguish on her face, he swallowed hard… trying to not be overwhelmed himself. "Jen, look at me," he sucked in a sharp breath when those teary eyes opened. "It's not your fault," he continued. "Even if it was something your body is doing, you didn't decide for that to happen." He kissed her forehead.
"But—"
This time, he pulled her into a deep kiss, breaking it after a few moments to kiss her shoulder.
"B—But… we can't," she spoke, feeling her pulse quicken.
Peter stroked her cheek. "I know, Jen." He gently began to massage her scalp. "Just rest for right now."
Thankfully, she did just that.
Main Room – 6:58PM
"This is so strange," Peter remarked, sitting at the table and eating dinner.
"Mm?" Jen grunted in response, her mouth full. Tonight, they were having lasagna… and Jen had a very healthy serving on her plate.
"I forgot I had this card." He held up the card he'd been given by one of the reporters.
"Woo?" she asked after stuffing more in her mouth.
"I was asked to go in for an interview…" his voice trailed off as he looked at the card. There were so many things to be said about the situation. Were he not experiencing what he was—he'd laugh about it. I need to do this… he thought, not liking the idea at all… especially considering the type of relationship this universe's Spider-Man had with Mary Jane.
Licking her lips clean, Jennifer arched a brow. "Does it matter?" she asked. "I already told them to find dad for more information about his condition."
Peter nodded. I need to make this right… he grumbled mentally. He wanted to not have any loose ends when it was time for him to leave. Dodging around the issue wasn't going to resolve it. I don 't like this… not at all.
Jennifer picked up the last bites off her plate with a spoon, a smile in place.
"Done?" he asked. Seeing her nod, he moved to help her get up from the table. "It was nice to eat with you all, but Jen and I need to get to bed."
She grumbled. "He means get back into bed."
"It's for your own good, Jen," Reed remarked, still eating his dinner.
The couple walked back to their room. "That was nice,"
"Hm," Jennifer hummed.
"Did you like it?"
Jen rolled her eyes. "You serious Pete? I ate more than you did!"
He laughed, holding her close as they walked.
Apartment C19 – The Ascend
9:04PM
Yawning, the redhead rubbed her eyes and got off the couch… more than ready to go to bed. Hearing her phone ring startled her, especially when she checked the wall clock. Picking it up, she frowned… not recognizing the number.
But… Sliding her finger on the screen to pick up the call, she held the phone to her head and turned towards her bedroom. "… I'm here. Who is this?" She took a few steps towards the other room before her caller spoke.
"Peter. Peter Parker."
Both the redhead's eyebrows shot up. "…What?"
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: Hello! How are y'all doing? Me… Well…
I'm glad I penned this chapter out. Though, to be fair, I'm so tired right now, that my brain thinks this fanfic chapter is a blog post.
Medical Bits: Recently, I've been trying to deal with worsening memory lapses.
I get lost a lot in conversations now… which is both unnerving and frightening.
Like… we'll be talking, then suddenly—the whole plot or topic is gone—and I'm sitting there asking again and again for the person to repeat what they said.
I honestly have no clue what's going on in my brain, but I'm supposed to have some testing very soon to rule out a few things.
The word "Aricept" has come up more than once at this point… but I'm not sure if I should keep picking up more and more prescriptions. Considering my list of medical personnel is increasing though…
Last month, I had some symptoms that seemed like a second stroke. I didn't lose my speech like I did in January, but I went numb on the entirety of my left side, had an elevated heart rate and spiking blood pressure.
So: … I want to apologize if my updates are delayed. I don't mean to be late. I don't even want to commit to an upload schedule now though. I hate disappointing my readers and being late. As Jennifer said: "My stupid body," it decides what it wants to do.
In Addition:I was unable to do much in terms of editing. Fantastic double vision. Hope it's okay!
I love you all and please meet me at the next chapter!
~J. Lyst