As a reminder, this story is crossposted to Ao3, though you do need to be logged in in order to view it.

Cindy took several carefully measured breaths. In her hand lay the shattered shards of one of her favored pens. It wasn't anything so extreme as a custom ordered thing, but it was a brand whose refills she had to buy from within Manhattan itself. It was only one of two she had ever purchased, and the current casing had served her ever since she started college.

Just another casualty in the battle for normalcy.

She gingerly turned her hand around and let the pieces fall to her desk, slowly rearranging them into some vague resemblance of what once was. Her door handle, her favorite pen, two handles for her drawers, and several pencils that Peter had given her to practice her grip strength with; all of them victims to her newfound strength, a strength that her body belied. She was only moderately leaner than she once was. Her arms still lithe, her legs still toned; the body that she had earned through hockey and had maintained through exercise was now more defined, robust. If she had seen the person in the mirror at the gym, she would have unabashedly stared and grumbled about how unfair the world was.

Cindy snarled and raised a fist, glaring at the fragments of her pen. How was this supposed to be a good thing? How was having the capability to destroy anything if you forgot to pay attention meant to be a worthwhile tradeoff for the crap that Peter was able to do?

She let out a long breath, slowly lowering her hand back to her lap. To anyone else, her room was now depressingly dark. Peter had installed blackout curtains at her request, and the sunlight peeking through the edges were just enough to light up her room. To her newly enhanced eyes, though, the curtains might as well have not existed.

This was hell. This was the worst— second worst— moment of her life. Ever. "World made out of cardboard," she whispered. Her phone jingled at that moment. A text message from MJ. Carefully, she picked it up and unlocked it, ever so slowly navigating through her lock screen and to the message itself.

#U ok?#

Cindy took a deep breath. #Sick. Everything hrts.# Peter had his phone brightness at a normal setting. Hers was at its absolute lowest and still it was the wrong side of acceptable. It was the chirping of birds from outside. It was the clinking of her blinds whenever the breeze picked up slightly. It was— She huffed.

#Got meds?#

#Enuff 2 kill an elphant# Not entirely a lie. Triple the dose she normally would have taken. Peter said it was normal. That her body was still adjusting to the forced second puberty. She was just glad it was the sore kind of ache and not the excruciating radial pain that some of her friends had after a forceful hurl. On a scale one to ten, her pain was at an ever present four; the only reason she needed so many pain killers was because her metabolism wouldn't register it otherwise. As for the rest of her annoyances? They were just that. Extremely moderate irritations that had her head twitching at every movement.

He'd talked about it, once. About how you felt like a slave to your own body. That even if you wanted to just move slightly to the side, the Spider Sense might have you perform an aerial; that even as you flipped in the air, you could feel your muscles tensing in case you had to jerk your body around one way or the other.

She choked down another snarl, glaring at the curtains that dared move within eyesight. This was the absolute worst. If it wasn't the subtle movement of things that constantly had her head twitching to catch them, it was the way the air felt on her skin, making her hyper aware of everything. When Peter had brought her out to eat, she had the benefit of something to focus on, but now?

She took a deep breath and did her best to calm herself, slowly navigating through her phone to see who she could contact for a day out.

/ - /

It was hard to believe that a few days ago, this area was engulfed in flames. Aside from some shootings and car bombs inside parking lots, nearly everything had happened streetside, away from the commercial centers. It wasn't the big businesses that got effected (aside from a few smaller stores that I was sure resulted from a personal vendetta), but the little people.

I wasn't sure why I'd decided to swing around this area. It wasn't exactly my usual patrol area of Queens, but something about it felt right. To leap across a building here and there and make a show of landing atop a building, where anyone who bothered to look up could see me.

I was still dressed in my makeshift costume; regular clothing that I'd reinforced here and where I expected the most abrasion to happen. It was still too cold for the spandex outfit I'd commissioned, plus I wasn't entirely sure about wearing threads that I hadn't personally made for my debut appearance. No, that specific outfit would stay as nothing more than a prototype; maybe a 'fake' costume I'd wear if I ever decided to be on the nose and cosplay at some party or event.

"Hey, Spider-Man! Over here!"

I glanced to the side as I let out another web, keeping myself in place by letting go at the apex of my swing before adjusting to get closer. "Hello, officer." I lowered myself from the street light, briefly considering landing on her vehicle before deciding to just stay upside down as I was.

She stared at me a brief moment before shaking her head. "Detective Watanabe. Scheduled to work here in Long City." She held out a card, hesitating a moment before I took it and slid it into one of my pockets after glancing at it. "Been hearing from the locals that you did a lot of work during that week of fire. My coworkers have been saying that you've been leaving a bunch of calls here and there about people you tie up. In case you ever tie any gangsters up again, drop me a call. I'll be able to put that info to better use than the others."

I gave a two fingered salute. "Noted. Anything else, officer?"

She gave me another stare, her lips pressed together as she mentally debated what else she was going to bring up. With a heavy sigh, "Officially speaking, I really should be making an attempt to arrest you. As a vigilante, we can't condone your efforts. Just do me a favor and keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and figure out how to reduce property damage. Stopping those vehicles is good and all, but the city can't keep paying to fix the streets you carve lines into. And same with leaving footprints on buildings! Everybody can see exactly where you've been on a building, so keep that in mind!"

I chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, sure."

/ - /

Technically speaking, it was a terrible idea to swing into Manhattan. Let alone leaving a trail of where I came from and where I went on social medias, who was to say whether or not I'd have the energy to swing back home, or even take the train? But I didn't really care. Swinging was fun. Between pulling myself through the air and general wall climbing, any day spent as Spider-Man was a full body workout, and I was getting to the point where doing it for fun actually felt— well, fun.

I brushed my fingers through my hair, combing out the mess my mask had made. Really the hardest part about changing out of my suit— er, costume— was trying to find a place that didn't have a camera angle. The roofs of business buildings were out of the way because of that very fact, and I had to be mindful about apartment complexes because if they weren't tall enough, odds were someone looking out their window would see Spider-Man disrobe into Peter Parker. Alleyways were also kind of a questionable thing because all it took was one person looking down the way and they'd see the superhero become a civilian, though between trash cans and the like that was kind of rare.

I pulled my proper phone from my pocket and twirled it into the air, catching it with a small flourish and opening up my message app. #Wya?# It was the first time in a couple weeks that Harry had been free, and considering we hadn't hung out in a little while an offer to visit him in the city seemed appropriate. Mr. Osborn was still a little weird about Long Island, but apparently he was easing up now that things had quieted down.

#5th and 68th. Meet at Columbus?#

#Sure.# I flourished my phone once again, this time back into my pocket, and leapt over the side of the fire escape, catching myself on the side and dropping down one floor at a time. Technically speaking, doing two or three floors at once was something totally within my realm of abilities, but I didn't want to overly worry anyone that happened to catch sight of me. I landed with a tiny huff, bending my knees slightly.

Winter in New York meant cold weather. Sometimes below freezing depending on how late you were out. For me, before the bite, that meant dressing up with thermals, a beanie, the works. Now? I didn't entirely need the thermals. Long socks, gloves, beanie and a scarf? All important to keep me feeling warm. But something about my new physiology meant my thermoregulation (at least in cold weather) was stronger than average.

Of course, it probably helped that I tended to be active when out and about. If it wasn't web swinging or wall crawling, it was free running my way whenever there were stairs or benches along the way. Physical activity did wonders for circulating heat— the exact reason why runners only needed a vest or so for their core while letting their legs and arms be exposed to the air. Jury was out for how well I could handle things while patrolling for a handful of hours as opposed to a forty minute swing, though.

Another thing that Winter in New York meant was naked trees. The flora here wasn't exactly coniferous, which meant amazing autumns and beautiful snows, but when neither of those were here the canopy of Central Park was a carcass of limbs. Beauty, in my humble opinion, came instead through the vibrancy of its occupants. The performers set up here and there; couples walking up and down the paths; where nature retreated, humanity flourished. I faltered at that, moving to the side of the path to properly process what I just thought. "Kind of grim, that," I muttered, continuing on.

Two summers ago, Harry and I had stopped some kids from bullying someone. We egged the group on and ended up climbing the Christopher Columbus statue here, and were just about ready to start throwing hands, but enough people made a fuss that the police arrived and broke things up before things got worse. If Harry wasn't who he was, I was pretty sure we would have ended up being held for a little while, but by the power of 'with my father's connections at the ministry' all we got for our troubles was a talking to. It made for a fun story whenever someone dragged it out of us, and ever since then, the statue was our usual meeting spot whenever we were both in Manhattan. Looking back at it, I was pretty sure it was two bit gangsters trying to muscle on someone from their school, but either way.

Harry said nothing as I sat down next to him, mimicking his slack posture that almost had us melting into the benches. We both stayed that way for several moments before he finally spoke. "Getting cold, isn't it?"

"Mm. Another week or two and we'll start getting snow."

"Hm. Got enough salt?"

Harry shifted. I did, too. "Stocked back up last week. What about you? Get your heating units checked?"

He glanced at me. I pretended not to notice. "Ran them for an hour at the start of the month. Got that burning dust smell out of the way."

I chuckled and sat up properly. "Bet that wasn't fun."

"Oh, it was the worst." Harry followed suit, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I had to open the windows and make a call for some floor fans." The both of us watched as someone on a unicycle drove past, turning to look at each other with a tune on our lips from an old video some years past. "I'm sorry we weren't able to attend the funeral. I know my father gave Uncle Ben a blank check, but money's not the same as being in person."

I waved my hand in dismissal, clamping down on the emotions he brought forth. "We can go visit her grave once your father lets you cross the river." I gave a wry smile. "Maybe give your own eulogy directly to her, instead of embarrassing yourself in front of fifty-odd people."

Harry gave me a strange smile of his own. "Yeah. Guess I could."

"Whelp." I slapped my hands on my legs and rose. "I'm starting to get a little cold. Let's go for a walk?"

"Sure."

I never voiced it to anyone, but I was a bigger fan of the Forest Park trails than Central Park. Central Park had too many roads woven into it to really connect with nature. And yeah, Central Park was generally denser, but at the end of the day it was in the heart of the city. Unless you were in the right spot, skyscrapers could still be seen peeking over the trees. You couldn't lose yourself as well as you could across the river, especially when the trees were actually green. "You know, I don't think we ever walked through Central Park. As a family, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I slowed down a little, my steps becoming more lackadaisical. "We went to parks, sure. Coney Island a couple times. But not Central Park. And any of the trails is really more my thing than anyone else. Even Cindy doesn't join me that often." I pulled to the side, resting gently against the fencing. "Do you think your father loved your mother?" I asked after a moment.

Harry blinked. "Where'd that come from?"

"Love comes in a lot of forms, right?" I stared at the naked branches above, gently swaying in the breeze. Despite being dormant, there was still life within them, just waiting for the right moment to return. "Sometimes it fades, sometimes it stays as strong as the day it was first born; I know Uncle Ben and Aunt May loved each other. The day she got shot they were on a dinner date, you know? And before a couple gets married, they normally do a bunch of other dates, too, right? So, for your father and mother, do you think they did that sort of thing? Dinner dates, walks in the park, maybe a day trip to some other country or something? Do you think the love they had for each other was maintained?"

Harry fell silent for a few moments before speaking. "I'd like to think they did. I know they had to go about it a different way, especially with the kind of life my father has, but I'd like to think they made everything work."

"Mm." I continued to watch the people pass for a couple moments more before pushing off and continuing on.

"My father does care, you know," Harry said some time later. "In his weird, CEO way, he cares about me. I brought up my attempts to join Stuco before everything went down to Mr. Menken after I handed in some of my tasks, and then the other day my father mentioned me sitting in on some meetings."

"Yeah?" I smiled at him. "This is a good thing?"

Harry hesitated the slightest bit before nodding. "A bit of a scary thing, but yeah, a good thing. I just have no idea what to expect about these sorts of things and my dad's not exactly going to give me any usable advice. Probably have to look up some stuff online or read through some magazines."

I nodded. "Probably for the best. I imagine the advice your dad'll end up giving you would be more appropriate for someone around his level who has a reputation and actual power to back up their words, not someone who only has 'do you know who my father is' level of strength." I cracked a grin at the bland look Harry gave me. "What? It's true. You said it yourself that you don't have much experience with this sort of thing. Give it about five or six years of leading stuff, and then around that time I'm sure the advice he'll give you would be more relevant."

He huffed. "Yeah, yeah." At my lead, we stopped to listen to a drummer rocking away at their bucket based setup. "I'm moving back into Queens after New Years."

"Got anything new you'll be bringing in?"

He shook his head. "No. Just gotta dust everything. I'm sure my dad had a housekeeper look over everything, but I want to go over it all on my own."

"Makes sense." A flicker of movement through the trees caught my eye. A tiny tingle along my spine had me straighten up. It wasn't exactly trouble, not in the sense that we needed to move, but...

"Think we can get a hangout for the four of us the weekend after? Maybe do pizza or chinese?"

"Chinese sounds good," I answered idly, lazily moving on. The flicker moved once again, this time settling on a tree a little ways away.

"Board games or a movie, you think? Or should I make sure all the controllers are working for some party games?"

"Party games might not be the worst thing in the world. Depending on how MJ feels, could also do a movie night and do a sleepover." A tingle of warning coursed through me once again. I whirled around, ducking both willingly and instinctually at the mass of gray heading towards my head.

"What the?!"

I turned back around staring wide eyed at the bird that flipped in place and shot back at my head. "François?" The bird evaded my loosely thrown hand, continually aiming its beak at my head. "Oi, cut it out!"

"Dude, are you being attacked by a pigeon right now?"

I shot Harry an unamused look. "Are you filming me right now instead of— quit it!" I slapped toward the general direction of François once again, unwilling to use even a normal human's level of strength in case I misjudged the amount of effort I needed. "What, is it the beanie?!" I growled and tore my beanie off my head and tossed it into the air. "Fine, take it! And don't come back!" I huffed and combed my fingers through my hair, trying to style them out of their tousled state now that there was nothing to hide them. "Harry."

"Yeah, Pete?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you show that to Flash, I'll make your life hell on Earth."

"But MJ's fine?" he asked, a teasing grin on his face.

"MJ is fine," I repeated morosely, watching the stupid bird fly off.

Next chapter will be released April 16th.