Her roommate was waiting for her when she got back to the dorm, which was extremely surprising and also extremely unwelcome. Felicia was in a dark mood, the kind of mood that made her feel annoyed with everything and everyone, except for - well, except for him.

But he wasn't there and even if he was, she doubted she'd be very good company. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now, which posed a massive problem, because there was no one in the world that loved talking more than Mary-Jane Watson.

"Ey, there she is!" MJ cheered when she saw her. She was sitting at a stool behind the counter, grinning "Are you hungry? I made biscuits!"

Felicia was ravenous, actually.

She had been transformed for well over six hours, had ran from Manhattan to the Bronx, then back again, fought Vermin, and used the hidden power of her crest to bring her best friend back from the dead.

Felicia grabbed one of the biscuits that MJ was pointing to (the refrigerated kind that came in cardboard tubes, fresh from the oven, and a little charred) and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. She swallowed without chewing and grabbed another.

"Soooo, where have you been?" MJ leaned with her elbows on the counter and laced her fingers under her chin. "It's pretty late. Have you been out all night?"

"Mmph." Felicia said, taking another biscuit.

"Here, put some of this on there." There was a bottle of honey on the counter, and MJ pushed it towards her. "Put together warm bread and honey and you're right on the money, sonny." She sang. "Ha! Isn't that funny?"

"Eegh." Felicia agreed.

MJ sighed and rested her chin in her hand, momentarily silent, as she watched Felicia eat. For nearly half a minute there was no sound except that of her nails tapping a beat on the counter and Felicia's rather loud mouth-noises.

Felicia knew she was being a little rude, but she didn't care. She also knew MJ well enough to recognize that this gift of biscuits and honey wasn't pure charity. MJ wanted something and was going to wait until she asked her what it was.

To buy herself some time, Felicia turned to the fridge and started rummaging for something to drink. The way she saw it, there were only two choices: do what was admittedly the right thing and talk to her roommate or… she could make a break for her bedroom.

The second option wasn't exactly something a mature adult would do, per say, let alone a superhero, but dammit – Felicia needed a nap. She needed to be alone, to think and process everything that had transpired that night...

It had happened like this:

Captain George Stacy and his army of officers almost put another round of bullets into Spider-Man when he'd climbed shakily back to his feet, quite literally rising from the dead. There had been a lot of questions, obviously, but even if Felicia had wanted to give a comprehensive, coherent, and compelling explanation, she couldn't. She barely understood what had happened and what's more - using her powers had left her with a killer migraine, nuclear-level, actually.

It was either using her powers or the waterworks. She'd forgotten how exhausting crying was.

Funnily enough, it was Edward Whelan who came to their rescue. His voice was hoarse and low, but just loud enough to draw attention away from her and Spider-Man, and remind them while they were all there in the first place

"Y- you…" He rasped, pointing a shaky finger at her chest. "You're... like me…"

Whelan seemed to had finally put together how her black suit and matching mask seemed to mirror his own brown set, minus the tail obviously. He'd correctly deduced that she had resurrected Spider-Man, that she had a power of her own, and a crest like his.

But of course, Felicia alone knew what Whelan was saying and the realization he'd come to. Everyone else, Captain Stacy in particular, only had one thing in mind.

They shackled him without issue this time and marched him from the chamber, Felicia and Spider-Man following close behind. The ride back up to the surface was supremely awkward with all of them packed into the maintenance lift together, but Felicia couldn't bring herself to care. Her head was pounding and her vision was swimming under the dim tunnel lights, which might as well have been a million, blistering suns for how much they irritated her sensitive eyes.

"Cat." Spider-Man was standing a breath behind her, and he took her arm as she started to sway. "You need to get out of here."

He spoke quietly in her ear so no one else could hear, but the noise was still enough to make her flinch.

"I'm fine." She tried to brush him off. "Just a little tired."

"You're barely standing. Go home and regroup. I'll go with Stacy and Edward and meet up with you later."

"Hell no." Felicia hissed. "We are not doing that again. I'm staying with you."

He let out a low chuckle and his grip on her arm tightened, causing a shiver under her suit that traveled upwards to settle in the tips of her ears. It was not an unpleasant feeling, just... just new.

"I'm serious." She insisted, gingerly pulling her arm free so she could focus. He released her readily.

"I know you are, but you look like you're about to pass out, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to do that in a police station."

He was right – she did not want to do that. She could just picture Captain Stacy taking it as an opportunity to unmask her under guise of rendering aid. Even before they'd literally killed her partner, she'd been wary of police. It was a bias that she'd inherited from her father and it'd kept her safe this far.

When the lift finally arrived, the party was greeted by Morris Bench, who saluted Captain Stacy and then was promptly shoved aside as he tried to join the rank of officers chaperoning Whelan. Felicia shot him as venomous a glare as she could muster while they passed. In her mind, Spider-Man would have never been shot if he hadn't sent the cops down after them.

"I gotta make sure Edward gets help." Spider-Man continued quietly as they followed the procession towards the exit. There was large digital clock on the wall over the door. He nodded to it. "Let's meet up in… two hours? The usual place?"

"Fine…" She agreed though gritted teeth, hating everything. "But you better be there this time, or… or else I'll…"

"Kill me?" He supplied.

"….Not funny."

"Ah, yeah… Right. Sorry."

So she had slipped away, left Spider-Man to deal with the police alone, even when all she wanted to do was stay. And now she was standing in the kitchen she shared with MJ – feeling much better now that she had detransformed and had filled up on biscuits and honey, completely lost in thought as she stared into the fridge.

Behind her, MJ let out a breathy huff, apparently she was getting tired of being patient.

To try and buy herself more time, Felicia seized a quart-sized jug of water and turned around, unscrewing the cap to take a long sip.

"Oh! Uh, I wouldn't…." MJ started.

It was too late though, Felicia got through half of a swallow before she gagged and reflexively spit, showering the counter and floor with droplets.

"What the fu-" Felicia spluttered. "Is this vodka?"

"Yeah!" MJ laughed. "Randy brought this bottle that was, like, two liters big and we couldn't finish it all. And then Carlie lost the lid to the bottle in my room somehow and we had to improvise. Be a dear and put that in the freezer for me, I'm not sure who put that there."

Felicia was seething as shoved the jug into the freezer and filled a cup with water from the sink.

She remembered now that MJ had been throwing a party earlier. Mercifully though, it seemed all the party-goers were gone, all save for MJ, sitting primly in her t-shirt dress and tights and who – now that Felicia thought about it – only baked when she was tipsy.

"You should hang out with us next time. You have an open invite, you know?" MJ said. "They're cool people."

"I'm sure."

Felicia's tone was flat and MJ's eyes narrowed to match, but if she took Felicia's dry words as a slight against her friends, she didn't say anything. They've had exchanges like this many times before, and they both knew Felicia would never make any effort to attend one of MJ's parties. That didn't seem to stop her roommate from trying to invite her though.

"I almost put out a missing person's report for your ass, just fyi." MJ stated after a moment. Her voice was casual, even though her words came fast. "I didn't see you at all these last few days and I don't know where the hell you've been, and you know I don't like to pry, but damn, when you show up at 1am looking like shit – no offense – what the hell am I supposed to think?"

Felicia wasn't sure if she was being serous about the missing person's report, but she didn't want to find out.

"I've just been busy, start of a new semester and all." She explained coolly. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Do you know about what's been going on? With that super disease?"

"Vaguely."

"Well like one in sixteen people are sick with it."

"And you threw a party." Felicia deadpanned.

"There were less than sixteen of us." MJ countered. "And Carlie was, like, having a panic attack because her dad caught it and she needed a distraction, and none of us are sick, but that all doesn't matter." She waved her hands dismissively. "What I'm trying to say is that you, Felicia Hardy, could have been in the hospital or something and I would have never known."

Felicia had to roll her eyes at that.

"Bruh, if I was in the hospital, I'd definitely text you and let you know."

"Would you?" MJ demanded, her eyes wide and a little watery.

"Yes!" It was Felicia's turn to laugh now, but MJ didn't join her. "I'm not heartless. Why do you care so much, anyways? Are you still drunk?"

"I'm not drunk." MJ spat, as if the very idea was preposterous, and yes, those were definitely tears in her eyes. "I just know what it's like to think you don't have anyone."

Felicia felt like she'd been slapped.

This was not how she thought this conversation would go.

"I… I have someone. I have people." She said, hating how there was an uncertain lilt to her voice, hating how MJ had her caught off guard. "I have you and..."

"And?"

"And... Well, I have this... this coworker." Felicia rolled her cup between her hands, suddenly unable to meet MJ's wet eyes.

"Oooooh, a coworker!" MJ sang, boxing the word in finger quotes. There was a wide grin on her face now and the shift in her mood was enough to give Felicia whiplash. "Tell me about this coworker of yours. Is that where you've been this week?"

"No- I mean, yes." Felicia sighed. "It's complicated."

"I LOVE complicated. If it was simple, then it would be boring, right? So, have you slept together yet? How was it?"

"I haven't even said we're together! Or anything like that! I just said I have a coworker."

"Yeah, but look at your face." MJ drew a circle around her head with a finger. "I've never seen anyone blush that much when talking about a someone they work with. Come on, give me the dirty details! I've been waiting to talk to you about this stuff for forever."

"There are no dirty details." Felicia answered honestly (regretfully). "We haven't even kissed."

"But you want to?"

Yes.

"I don't know. Like I said, it's complicated."

"Complicated because you're scared you'll get rejected if you admit your true feelings? Because you don't want to mess with the dynamic you have right now? And not only is there a chance you'll get your heart broken, but you may ruin one of the few supportive relationships in your life by making things awkward?"

Felicia didn't say anything, she just stared, and MJ let out a tiny cough into her fist.

"Sorry." She said. "I mean, complicated how, Felicia? Tell me."

"I… think you've got the gist of it." Felicia turned and refilled her cup from the sink, then pressed it into MJ's hands. "Drink this, all of it, and then go to bed. That's what I'm going to do right now."

"I'm not drunk." MJ insisted, but she drank some of the water all the same, and then looked at Felicia seriously. "You know I can't help prying, but really, it's just because I care. Don't be a stranger, please?"

"I won't, I promise."

The well-practiced lie rolled off her tongue easily.

In truth, she couldn't promise anything. Between school and moonlighting as Black Cat, she felt like she had time for little time for anything else in her life, even friends. No matter how much she may have liked MJ, she could never truly be honest with her about where she went or what she did during the night. It was better to keep her and everyone else at a distance, even if it made her seem standoffish and rude, even if it meant she was alone.

She said goodnight to MJ and, this time, her roommate let her go without argument.


Felicia set an alarm and lay awake in bed, knowing she should sleep, but unable to close her eyes. Every time she did: she saw Spider-Man behind her eyelids, saw Spider-Man leap, saw his blood, watched him die.

And before too long her phone alarm was buzzing on her chest where she'd rested it, causing her to surge to her feet and rush to the window. In a flash, Black Cat stood where Felicia had once been and she climbed out the window to take to the night.

She was early, of course.

The wide, windswept ledge was three-quarters the way up the Chrysler Building, very cold, and a little damp. Luckily, Spider-Man – ever thoughtful as he was – had considered this when he'd picked this spot as their formal meetup location. A heavy metal toolbox was tucked against one wall and filled with a few bare essentials, bottles of water, a small first aid kit, but most importantly: a large fleece blanket.

Black Cat spread the blanket out on the south side of the building (her preferred view) and after weighing it down so it wouldn't fly out from under them, settled in to wait.

As the minutes ticked by, an unsettling sense of déjà vu settled over her. It was just the other morning when she'd been in the very same position, after all. She'd stood, looking south, waiting for Spider-Man and hoping, despite the odds, that he would show up – even though he was sick and hurt.

He had agreed to meet her then too, promised even, but he hadn't come. She'd waited for as long as she could, but eventually the life of Felicia Hardy had got in the way, and she'd had to leave for Empire State.

This time though, everything else could be damned for all she cared. She'd wait all night. She'd wait for days. Hell, if Spider-Man didn't show up, maybe she'd never leave.

Evil thoughts invaded her mind. She had no idea the true nature of her crest's power. Sure, she'd brought him back to life, but what if it wasn't a permanent thing? What if he turned to dust as soon as she'd turned her back on him? What if the whole resurrection was a stress-induced fever-dream that didn't actually happen at all, and she was actually still underground with Captain Stacy and Vermin, cradling Spider-Man's rapidly cooling corpse?"Hey." Said a voice to her left.

Black Cat let out a very uncharacteristic shriek of surprise and bounded to her feet, whirling to see who had interrupted her thoughts.

Of course, it was Spider-Man, standing on one of the eagle gargoyles with a hefty plastic bag in one hand and a cardboard carrier holding two paper cups in the other. He flinched as she rounded on him.

"Sorry, sorry." He said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't!" She replied quickly. "I mean, not really. It's fine. I… I guess I'm just a little on edge."

"Same, honestly." Spider-Man leapt lightly from his gargoyle and joined her on the blanket. "Heck of a night, huh? I don't know about you, but I'm starving." He raised the plastic bag he was holding. "Sandwich?"

She'd eaten enough of MJ's biscuits to kill a small dog, but still her stomach twinged with hunger. Her voice wasn't working though. In her mind 'He's here. He's here. He's here.' played on maddening loop, so she only nodded and sank down again to sit on her knees.

Spider-Man had brought a pair fat sandwiches, one filled with corned beef and one with turkey pastrami, and two bags of chips. The cups were filled with coffee, and if she wasn't grappling with twelve different emotional states, Black Cat would have pinned him to the roof and kissed him full on the lips there and then.

Instead, she took the corned beef and was several bites in before she noticed that Spider-Man was hesitating. He scratched at the back of his neck and stared at the sandwich in his hand, considering it.

"Ah screw it." He mumbled, then he did something that stopped Black Cat's heart mid-beat.

His gloved fingers found the where his mask met the collar of his suit, then he lifted and pulled. The world seemed to tilt as the fabric stretched, but in truth it was just Black Cat – leaning forward so severely she almost fell on her face.

She was staring, and her jaw was slack, probably revealing a mouthful of semi-chewed food, but she didn't care.

She could see his lips.

Spider-Man's lips.

And the lines of his jaw, and his chin, and the tip of his nose.

The mask still covered the top half of his face and those damned pearly lenses hid his eyes, but still, Black Cat had imagined a dozen different ways she'd finally see his face, but she'd never thought it would be so… so blasé.

Maybe this all really was just a stress-induced fever dream.

"Are you okay?" Spider-Man definitely sounded real. He was frowning at her too and the fact that she could see him frowning and knew the shape his mouth made caused her head to spin.

"No." She said and it was a herculean effort to get her brain moving again, but she managed it. "I mean, yes. I'm fine. I'm just… looking."

"Is, uh – is there something on my face?"

"No." She sat back on her heels. "Maybe that's it… I've always imagined you with a big bushy beard to be honest."

Spider-Man laughed and Cat felt a warmth fill her chest, the kind that had been absent for days.

"Sorry to disappoint." He chuckled.

"You should be! There's nothing – not even any peach fuzz. Can you even grow facial hair?"

"I've never tried." He took a large bite of his sandwich and she watched him chew. "I feel like it would itch under the mask."

"Mmm." Black Cat hummed thoughtfully and then they both lapsed into silence while they ate.

Now that she had regained her wits, Black Cat was confronted with the sheer enormity of how much they had to discuss. There were so many things she wanted to say, so much that she needed to say, and she had no idea where to start.

How do you even go about asking someone how they're doing after they'd literally died? Could she ask him what it was like? Did she even want to know?

She finished her sandwich before she could think of how to broach the topic and she ended up crinkling the empty wrapper between her claws just for something to do. She liked the satisfying crunch the butcher paper made and she was considering asking Spider-Man if she could have his paper, when he suddenly spoke.

"I think Edward Whelan is going to be okay." He said. "At least, you know, with all things considered."

Black Cat wasn't expecting that. She hadn't thought about Whelan since they'd left that chamber under Van Cortlandt Park.

"That's… great." She wasn't sure what to say, or how to feel about the news. "Are they putting him on the Raft though?"

"Oh yeah, he's definitely going to prison," Spider-Man explained. "but I managed to convince Captain Stacy that he wasn't as dangerous anymore and that he needed help more than anything. I'll check in on him in a couple of days, but Stacy said he'd do what he could to keep Edward out of the Raft's max security cells." Having finished his food as well, Spider-Man reached for his coffee next, drinking most if it in a few long sips. "Stacy kind of… promised, more or less, that Whelan would be taken care of. I think he feels bad for… for what happened."

Black Cat said nothing. She was still conflicted on whether she was ready to discuss what exactly had happened, but luckily Spider-Man was talking again, speaking fast.

"I couldn't let them kill Edward though." He said. "He was so scared. He actually said 'thank you' to me too – if you'll believe it – just before I said goodbye to him at the police station." Setting his coffee aside, he patted at his hip and pulled out something small that had been tucked under his belt. "He gave me this."

He held it up for Cat to see and, for the umpteenth time that night, she felt her heart skip. Hanging from a thin silver chain, was an oval crest, marked with the symbol of the rat.

When she held out her hand, Spider-Man placed the charm in her palm.

"He… gave you this?" She asked, examining it. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He confirmed. "It seemed really important to him and he said, after what I did for him, that he'd rather I have it than Captain Stacy and the police."

Black Cat didn't know what to say. She'd forgotten all about the crest of the rat. She'd been too busy watching her best friend in the world bleed out and die, too caught up in her misery and pain to think about the promise she'd made Wong and America Chavez – to recover this crest for them.

Once again, it had been Spider-Man who'd saved the day, with his selflessness and his heroism. He had broken through to Whelan by giving his life for him and here was the reward in her hand, this terrible, evil necklace, with the power to corrupt minds and bodies.

"Cat," Spider-Man said. "What is that?"

This was it. He could tell from her reaction to seeing the necklace that it meant something, that she was withholding information.

It was time to tell him everything.

She took a moment, deciding where to begin.

"Do you believe in magic?" She asked.

"In a young girl's heart?"

"… Yes," Cat didn't get the reference, but she allowed it. "And… other places."

"Like?"

"Like in this thing." She rolled the rat crest between her claws. When he didn't respond after a few seconds, she decided to stop beating around the bush. "This necklace is magic. It's what gave Edward his powers." She explained and, steeling herself, she met his eyes for this next part. "And... I have one too."

All in all, he took it better than she expected. Apparently being Spider-Man had prepared him to deal with weird nonsense like this. He listened patiently as she told him about the crest of the cat that she wore, how it transformed her into Black Cat, making her stronger and faster and more durable; how she'd recognized Vermin for what he was, and then met up with the order of sorcerers to come up with a plan to stop him-

"Hold on a second." Spider-Man interrupted. "Order of sorcerers?"

"Oh, yeah. I was getting to that. Anyways-"

"There's a secret society of sorcerers in New York?"

"Yes," Black Cat sighed. "But the head honcho, the Sorcerer Supreme, or whatever, he isn't here and he hasn't been for a while. There's only Wong right now, and this girl who has a serious attitude problem-"

"You've… held onto this little tidbit of information for a while, huh?" Spider-Man's voice had a stiffness to it and, without having finished his coffee, he rolled his mask back down to cover his chin once more – much to Black Cat's dismay.

She mourned the hidden parts of his face like flowers missed the setting sun, but she had to admit to herself that it was better this way. With the mask down again, she could focus more on the conversation at hand and stop floundering like some fool from the 18-century, blushing at an inch of exposed ankle.

"Yeah, I did." She admitted. "I would have told you sooner… I wanted to, but they made me promise to tell no one. They have this whole 'sworn secrecy' policy"

"Well what changed? Why are you telling me now?"

"Because we kind of… had a falling out… I guess."

It sounded lame when she said it, but it was the truth essentially.

"I see." He shifted closer to her and sat cross-legged by her side. "Are you okay?"

No.

"Yes."

"You're not, like… in danger or anything? These sorcerers aren't going to hunt you down, are they?"

"No. At least, I'm pretty sure they won't. They aren't evil, they're just," She cast about for the right word. "A little sanctimonious."

"Holy hell." Spider-Man laughed. "Is that your five dollar word for the night?"

"I happen to have a great vocabulary, thank you very much."

"I know, I just wasn't expecting you to hit me with a 51-point scrabble word out of the nowhere like that."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"Understatement of the century." He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, shoulders slumped, looking incredibly tired all the sudden. "I always suspected that you had more going on than I knew, but magic amulets and mysterious sorcerer guilds and raising the dead weren't on the list."

And there it was again. The topic that she was alternatively dreading but also dying (ha) to discuss refused to go unaddressed. She wasn't going to be the one to start the conversation in earnest though. Even if she wanted to, her tongue felt swollen and sluggish, like it didn't belong to her, and chills were running up and down her spine.

"Hey," Suddenly his hand was on hers and she looked down to see that she had torn her sandwich wrapper to shreds. "You're shaking."

"S-sorry." Black Cat took a deep, steadying breath. "I… I'm sorry... for what happened to you."

"Oh, Cat." His grip on her hand tightened and hated how that small touch made her suck in a breath. "You have no reason to apologize. I was stupid, again. If I'd thought for half a second, maybe I could have done something different, but-"

"There wasn't time." She finished, then she swallowed and it was difficult because of the lump in her throat, but even though her eyes stung and her face felt hot, she would not cry again tonight. "I held your hand… I held your hand as you died. Do you remember that?"

He shook his head and she didn't have it in her to ask if he was lying. They sat in silence for a minute or two. The coffee that Spider-Man brought for her turned cold, untouched at her side, but she wouldn't have let go of his hand to save her own life.

"It was you though, right?" He said eventually. "You brought me back?"

When she nodded, he asked, "How?"

"I think," She began, pausing momentarily to steady her breathing again. "I think that's my crest's real power, like Vermin had his poison, I can do... this."

"Resurrect people?"

"I don't know… It's more like… I gave you a part of me." That was the only way to describe how it felt, the sensation of tearing off a chunk of her heart and soul and pushing it into him.

"One of your nine-lives?" He was only half-joking.

"Maybe. Yeah."

She wanted to laugh, but couldn't muster it. The thought had crossed her mind, of course, as soon as she'd used the power actually. Maybe she was more cat-like than she'd originally thought. Apparently, her crest had a sense of humor too, or maybe, the ancient magical artifact that she wore around her neck was the origin of that particular myth.

If 'nine-lives' really was what her power though, did that mean she only had eight lives left to give out? Could she use them on herself? And how the hell could she get more of them?

It was only a matter of time until Spider-Man threw himself into harm's way again, taking more bullets for one defenseless soul or another, and she'd prefer to have a few more lives on hand for those instances.

She didn't have an answer to any of her many questions, but did she have an inkling on who might...

"Thank you," Spider-Man said. He was still holding her hand, but had shifted himself around so he was looking her full in the face. She could see soft reflections of herself in the lenses over his eyes. "For everything."

With a final, firm squeeze, he released her fingers and then rubbed the back of his neck again, looking sheepish.

"That sounds pretty cliché, but like… I don't know. I feel like 'thank you' doesn't even begin to cover it." He continued. "You saved my life, you found out Vermin's plan, and you found a cure that could counteract his powers. Cat, you're amazing."

She had to scoff at that.

"I can't take credit for any of that. It was all other people, or my crest. I was just in the right places at the right time." She said.

"Maybe, but it would never have all come together without you." He insisted, and when she scoffed again, he gave her a little, mirthless laugh. "Am I not allowed to sing your praises a little? I literally owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Factually incorrect."

"I'm serious." Black Cat snapped, annoyed at the idea. She did not want him to think of what happened like this. "You don't owe me."

"I'm serious too." He countered. "Life-debts are sacred in spider culture. Whatever you want, just let me know."

"Not actually a spider." She pointed out, hissing, "And fine, you know what I want: how about you don't stand me up like you did the other day ever again. Because you have no idea how worried I was and there was no way for me to know if you were okay, or if you were hurt, or so sick that you were dying. Do you have any idea how that felt!?"

Her last words came out as a shout and although she was irritated with Spider-Man and wanted him to stop joking with her, she got no satisfaction in the way he recoiled slightly and his shoulders drooped further. He let out a small sigh and rubbed at his forehead again, and it occurred to Black Cat that he probably hadn't slept much in the last few days either.

"I'm sorry for that," He said. "I promise... I would have shown up if I could, but I was sick, as in, really sick. It was messed up. I passed out as soon as I got home and didn't wake up until morning."

"I get that, and I'm so glad you're okay," She put as much emotion as she could muster into her words. "But I don't want either of us to have to wonder again. We're a team, right? We have to stay in contact somehow. It'll make things so much easier."

"I agree." Spider-Man nodded and he turned his gaze from her, looking up at the night sky, muddied by light pollution. "I've been thinking the same thing, especially tonight."

Black Cat felt as if she was shrugging off a heavy coat. They'd touched on this topic briefly earlier, but they'd both been so happy to see each other, they didn't seriously consider how they would do it and what it meant. She imagined some long-range walkie-talkies with an encrypted channel (Spider-Man was smart, he could probably figure that out. or maybe she'd ask Peter. He'd probably leap at the chance to help her out again.) or hadn't Spider-Man mentioned pre-paid phones earlier? Her father had always been a fan of those, so she knew how they worked. She would keep the phone on her person at all times and give Spider-Man's contact a special ringtone so that when it went off she would know-

"I want to tell you who I am." He said.

"… What?"

He turned his eyes back to her once more.

"I should tell you who I am. Who I really am, I mean – under my mask."

Black Cat was wrong, it wasn't just an invisible weight on her shoulders she was shedding, it was all tethers to reality. She was ascending.

"But I thought you said it was too dangerous…" She had asked who he was around the time they'd first met and he'd shut her down, hard. Black Cat remembered his words well. "You said you couldn't risk it."

"Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?" He exhaled, loud and long, the kind of sigh that seemed to deflate him entirely. "But that was a long time ago… and I've been thinking about it more and more. I just feel like everything's changed now."

She didn't reply. She just waited and listened, barely trusting herself to breathe.

"Back when we first met, I'd only been doing this for a little while." He said and gestured vaguely at his suit, still dotted with bullet holes. "I made all these rules in my head about what I should and shouldn't do, and I swore that I would stick to them."

There was a long pause then, during which he the only thing he did was twist his fingers in his lap, but still Black Cat said nothing.

"I, uh... made a mistake pretty early on." He continued eventually. "Someone I… that I cared about found out what I was doing, and when I got in over my head, he tried to help. He died because of it… because of me."

If she was a tender kind of person, soft-hearted, more like MJ or him, she would have reached out then and taken Spider-Man's hand, but she didn't.

Black Cat wasn't the comforting type and touching – when it wasn't in the middle of a fight or a flirtatious little jab meant to get a rise out of him – was still something she couldn't willingly manifest quite yet.

"I'm sorry." She said instead, and nothing else, because she knew what it was like to lose people too.

He accepted her condolences with a slight nod, then pressed on, as if he was eager to get through this next part quickly.

"The funny thing is... when he found out I was Spider-Man, he was really calm about it. He didn't try to stop me. He knew, better than I did at the time, that people like you and me," He motioned between them. "With powers like ours, we have to be responsible. We have to protect the people who can't protect themselves. And I'm definitely butchering his words here, but you get the point, right?"

"Yeah." She said and she found her voice hoarse. Her throat was bone dry.

"For the longest time I thought that meant I couldn't do the things I wanted to do. I thought it meant I couldn't rely on anyone else, not fully at least, because if things went wrong, it would be because of me..." Spider-Man stared at her steadily. "But you've shown me that's not true. I can rely on people. I can rely on you. I trust you with my life, Cat."

"Spider…" She croaked. "Honestly... I don't know what happened tonight. I don't know if I could bring you back again…"

"That's fine. That's not even what I'm talking about." Spider-Man replied, scooting closer to her so their knees almost touched. "Nine-lives aside, you saved the day." He raised a hand to silence her when she opened her mouth to protest. "And I won't hear anything to the contrary, so don't even try again. But, anyways, long story short, you're right – we'll be a better team if you knew my identity and, after tonight, I have no more excuses for why I shouldn't tell you."

Black Cat licked her lips and tried to muster a response, but all that came was a quiet "Okay.", that Spider-Man seemed to take as his cue.

With sure fingers, he reached up and pulled at his mask again. She watched as his skin appeared slowly once more, millimeter by millimeter, her heart pounding and her mind racing. There were over eight million people in New York city, and yet a small part of her wondered if she'd recognize him somehow. Perhaps they'd crossed paths outside of costume before. They could have sat next to each other on a bus or stood in line in the same coffee shop.

The tip of his nose appeared again and she was enthralled by the thought that she wouldn't have to wonder anymore, wouldn't have to guess what colors his eyes were, or how he styled his hair.

If he even had hair. He could very well be bald, not that it would matter.

Oddly enough, it was that particular, strange thought that did it. In her mind's eye, a vision of Wong appeared. Bald, kind-faced, but self-righteous, and powerful, and invasive – with the power to read minds.

"Wait!" She lashed out and seized his wrist, stopping him just before he exposed the bridge of his nose. "Don't."

His mouth hung slack.

"Um… why not?"

If she hadn't already filled her tears quota for the decade, she would have started crying then. As it was, she closed her eyes tight, disgusted by the bitter-tasting words that poured from her mouth, despising how silly the truth was:

"The sorcerers, they can read minds…"

There was a beat where he seemed to mull this over and then a small smile quirked his lips.

"O-kay," Spider-Man said. "That's cool, but I'm not sure-"

"They've read my mind before," She spat. "To get information out of me, stuff that didn't trust me to tell them. They can do it without me even knowing, against my will, so… so if I know who you are… then they will probably know too."

Another beat of silence.

"But I thought you said you had a falling out. I thought that meant you were done with them."

"The whole mind-reading thing is why we fought," Cat explained, venom coating every word. "And I do not want to deal with them again, but I…" She clenched her fist, the one not holding Spider-Man's wrist, but the one that held the crest of the rat, clenching so tight the edges of the pendant dug into her gloved palm. "I have to. I have to give them Vermin's crest."

"Just leave it on their doorstep, don't even talk to them."

She would if she could.

"I need to talk to them…. I need to know more about my crest." It was painful to think about. She did not want to face Wong or America Chavez again, but her traitorous mouth spoke the truth all the same. "I need to know how my nine-lives works and I don't know anyone else that could help me... besides them."

"And what makes you think they'll help you?"

"I'll make them help me."

"Damn," Spider-Man laughed, even though there was nothing funny about. "I think you just gave me chills, Cat"

Black Cat forced a smile, but it fell from her face quickly when Spider-Man gently pulled his arm from her grip and tugged his mask down into place again.

"I guess we should… hold off then?" He suggested. "For a little while?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

They just sat and looked at each other for a while and during that time Black Cat imagined a hundred different ways she could make Wong and America Chavez suffer. He heart wasn't really in it though. She'd meant what she said when she'd assured Spider-Man they weren't evil. Everything was just so, so complicated.

She couldn't blame Spider-Man for not wanting the sorcerers to know his identity. Sharing himself like that was dangerous and the fact that he trusted her enough to almost do it made her heart sing.

It was almost poetic too, from a certain point of view.

Spider-Man had just been describing how their responsibilities as heroes made it so they had to put aside the things they wanted. He'd learned that from this guy who had died for him, whoever it was, and now it was her turn.

The crest around her neck was heavy and warm, and if she wanted to know how it worked, then she'd have to talk to America Chavez. Which in turn meant she'd have to wait to find out who Spider-Man was, and as much as that hurt, Black Cat decided it would be okay. She could be patient.

Vaguely, she remembered an Ethics class she'd taken as part of her core curriculum at ESU. Her professor had gotten sidetracked talking about Latin and had mentioned that the Latin root for 'patience' was 'pati', which meant 'to suffer'.

Whether or not her recollection was true, Black Cat thought that interpretation was very apt.

"What if I told you who I am?" She asked quietly. "I don't mind telling you and everything you said would still work. We'd be a better team, right?"

"I kind of assumed you'd tell me who you were anyways." Spider-Man chuckled. "After I told you who I was, I mean."

"I would have. I still will."

He considered it for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No. If I know your identity, then you should know mine too. It's only fair." He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands. "When the time's right, we'll tell each other together, at the same time. Until then, we'll make it work. We can figure out someway to stay in touch, I'm sure of it."

Never had Black Cat felt such a rapid swing of emotions before – the incredible feeling of elation followed so soon by a devastating reality check. She didn't know how to feel. She didn't know when or if the time would ever come where they could be fully honest and open with each other. Everything was so uncertain.

But she did know that they'd made it this far. They'd survived super-villains and illness and even death. She knew she was here for the long-haul.

"I know." She said. "I know, we'll figure out something."

They sank into a comfortable silence and neither said a word for the rest of the night. At some point though, she'd taken the initiative and moved towards him, shifting around so they could sit side-by-side, and gently rested her head on his shoulder. She felt nothing but comfort and warmth from his collar met her cheek and she was too exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, to unpack what that meant. She couldn't begin to fathom the repercussions of him having a part of her inside of him. So they just sat, and watched the sun rise together.

End of part one.