When I woke up the next morning I expected to find police waiting at my bed, despite my thoughts of victory the night before.
I had just stolen from a hospital, and without any sort of mask, meaning any one of the nurses could identify me if they ended up reporting me. Not to mention, if I ran into anyone who had seen my face it'd also spell some pretty deep trouble for me.
I waited out my last hours in the hospital nervously before the nurse came to discharge me.
"What happened to you was traumatic, and if you're having nightmares of any kind we recommend this therapist," the redheaded woman behind the front desk said, passing me a business card with something scrawled on the back. I gave her a smile, filling out the necessary paperwork.
"Thanks." I said, glancing up from the clipboard and my cheeks reddened. She was the nurse whose uniform I had hijacked. "Have a nice day." I smiled, grateful to be done with the hospital.
It was around dinner time and the skies were darkening when I walked out the hospital doors. Pausing next to a bush covered in colourful flowers, I shrugged on my jacket, and hastily stuffed the pages into the bag from which my stuffed animal - whom I had yet to name - was sticking out of.
The walk didn't take long, and when I got home I found a hastily scribbled note on my front door in messy handwriting. I unlocked the door and dropped my bag inside, taking the note and heading to the elevator lobby as I read.
Gwen,
I fo--nd out some--ing h-ge about F-s-, m-et me on the r-of so we c-n tal-!
Pet-r :)
The handwriting was smudged so badly in places I couldn't make out some of it but the gist was clear. Meet me on the roof. Whoever wrote this, and they most definitely were not Peter, had clearly been in a hurry.
I paused, staring down at the note as I realised something. This note wasn't written by Peter, so it was most likely written by whoever tried to kill me, which meant either my uncle, or my old best friend was waiting on the roof for me. My vision tunnel, just for a moment and my emotions overtook me. A mix of sadness, anger, fear, confusion and worry washed over me like a freezing wave, warring with each other, surging about like stormy waters.
Either my old best friend or my uncle had tried to kill me.
I let that thought settle before it came rushing back up in the form of vomit, and I darted to the trash can, spilling the hospital food I'd been given before my departure into the bin.
I felt around in my pockets for something to clean my face, and luckily, a small plastic Kleenex package was in one of them. I cleaned off my face, swallowing my nerves and attempting to calm myself.
Glancing down at the silver cuff on my wrist I tapped my foot nervously. If anything went wrong, and it undoubtedly would, I still had one of Peter's web-shooters, and if necessary I knew how to use it. Pressing the up button next to the closed elevator doors I waited for a few moments before the doors opened with a ding.
Steeling myself, I stepped inside. "No time like the present." I said aloud, turning to watch the doors close.
As soon as they did I snorted, my serious composure breaking. I barked out a laugh, doubling over.
"What was that?!" I laughed, putting a hand to the wall for support, steadying myself.
Straightening, I made eye contact with my reflection and put on a dramatic face.
"No time like the present." I mocked, deepening my voice.
Cackling to myself, I shook my head.
"Gods, I crack myself up." I muttered under my breath, laughing to myself.
The elevator stopped and I stepped out. I paused, a half formed plan springing to my mind.
If I called the police now, they'd be here in about seven or ten minutes - judging from their normal response times and the nearest station - and if I could just stall whoever was up there long enough they'd show up and arrest the attempted murderer. This, of course, happened to rest solely on the fact I'd made my estimations right.
Too early, and I might not have enough evidence, too late and I might be dead.
Shaking my arms out I dialled 911, rehearsing what I was going to say as the phone rang.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Ignoring the operator's request for me to stay on the line after I'd explained everything to them, I hung up, giving a simple excuse that it wasn't safe to stay on, which in a few moments would be true.
I knew this idea was stupid and only half thought out, but if I could put whoever tried to kill me behind bars it would be worth it.
If Peter got hurt because of me, or MJ, or Ned, or May, or Harry, or Aura or anyone else, I couldn't live with myself.
I opened the camera app and started recording just outside the stairs to the roof.
"This is Gwendoline Hardy, age sixteen, I know this is stupid but it's for a good reason." I paused, realising like I sounded as though I was about to die. I could just turn back, but I was already this close, and I'd made the 911 call. I steeled myself and continued, there was no going back now. "A few days ago someone tried to kill me and now I believe they're on the roof of my building. To keep anyone from getting hurt I'm going up to them, hopefully this works." I pushed the door to the stairs open and walked up, steps seeming louder than they were in the enclosed stairwell.
The air was crisp, and a light breeze blew gently through my hair. The sounds of the city floated over the stone barrier about half my height serving to keep people from walking over the edge.
For a moment I debated whether or not to let whoever was up here think I'd been fooled, before I hardened my resolve.
"Hello? Whoever's up here I know it's not Peter." I said, staring around the rooftop.
The door to the stairs was flanked on either side by two large air conditioning units, and on the other side, what must have been a tool shed in former years, now stood neglected. In front of me there was an open space free of metal units. Sandwiched between a metal box about my height and twice as wide and of some sort and a cement block that would have only been useful in reaching the roof of the building next to us - only one story taller but still - stood an old greenhouse with dead plants and gardening equipment inside.
I walked out into the open space of the roof, wondering exactly what most of the metal units did as I waited for a response.
When I got one, it came from behind me and I turned so fast I nearly fell over. "No offense, but I'd hoped you'd died from the little accident with the Astro Tower."
The wave of emotions I'd felt earlier came back ten times larger, nearly driving me to my knees.
Whitney.
She was the one who had tried to kill me.
"Whitney... How, why- why would you do this?" I asked, attempting to make my voice as clear as possible.
"It's all part of the job Gwenny." she said mockingly, smiling as she hopped down from the roof over the stairs.
"Who's job?? Who could make you do this??" I asked, feeling the grip I had on my emotions starting to slip.
"Oh Gwendoline. No one made me do anything." I heard the telltale flip of a butterfly knife and caught the flash of silver as Whitney snapped it open. "I tried to kill you of my own volition." she sneered.
"When you left for California you seemed fine. What happened??" I asked, and Whitney's lip curled even further.
"When I left? Gwen I left because of a job. It got a lot of publicity during the trial but no one suspected me, I wasn't even implicated. Kingpin even made sure I kept an eye on the subject before and after the job. Though to be fair, I was just looking after loose ends after the guy died."
My blood ran cold.
"I ended up having to leave when someone got suspicious and started investigating again." she finished, flipping the knife closed again.
"Did you- Are you talking about Papa?" I asked, voice breaking when I mentioned my father.
"Yes, Wen. I am."
What little control I had over my emotions shattered and I let out a choked sob. All I needed was a little more time, a little more information and I could prove her crimes to the police.
"Don't call me that." I seethed, and after a few seconds spoke again, quieter this time. "Then, what you said, about- about the job. Was I never really your friend? Was I always just a pawn?" I asked, voice betraying the betrayal and heartbreak roiling inside of me.
"Yes, you were, and even now still are. Want me to tell you how I did it?"
Whitney seemed to be enjoying this now, once more flipping the knife open.
I nodded, and it was all I could do not to let my emotions spill over.
"I can look like anyone thanks to this little beauty." she said, pressing a hand to the area just below her ear and her face transformed until I was staring at myself. "All I had to do was wear a binder and a bald cap and I looked enough like your father to frame him. Your father was the first person I framed by the way, and when I first got assigned to watch him I-" she cut off here, face shimmering to look like herself once more. "What is that?"
I glanced down at my pocket where the corner of my phone was sticking out.
Closing a hand around my phone I brought it up, staring at her through the camera and thankfully she wasn't wearing my face anymore.
"It's been recording the whole time." I couldn't manage sounding smug if I tried so I just focused on not bursting into tears. "And now I have everything you, Whitney Elizabeth Frost said on video, and a face to match. Your real face if I'm not mistaken."
I pressed the stop button ending the recording and dropped my phone back into my pocket, zipping it closed.
Whitney had managed to calm the rage in her features by now and it was replaced by a deadly calm. "Impressive. It's a pity you won't be able to share that lovely video with anyone." she snarled, flipping the butterfly knife open one last time to lunge at me.
I dart out of the way, catching her wrist and twisting. The knife clattered to the concrete of the roof and I kicked it away, lashing out at her.
I put all the emotions raging inside me behind my arm and the punch sent her flying.
"You are the reason my father is dead! And my sister!" I emphasised each dead family member with a punch, and Whitney blocked one of them, the other slamming into her side so forcefully she stumbled.
"No, actually, you have Alan Guiles to thank for that."
Curling her fingers around the fallen knife, Whitney sneered, and I barely had time to register her words before she swung the knife at me. The doors to the roof crashed open, police streaming out, numbering in about five or six. I caught Whitney's arm and brought my leg up into it. The knife clattered to the floor as a cop pulled Whitney away, giving me an appreciative nod.
The next half an hour was a blur. Whitney was taken away within the first five minutes and I was only allowed to leave the ambulance after I had been checked out by an EMT.
I barely recalled sending the police a copy of the video I'd filmed for analysis, and then I was home, collapsed on my bed, phone discarded on the bedside stand.
The emotional weight of what had just happened caught up to me and I crashed into my bed, muffling my sobs in the pillow as I cried myself to sleep.
When I woke again, it was only two hours later, around ten or eleven, but I was still crying. My dream hadn't been a good one, but thankfully it was fading fast. Whitney had been there, although she had insisted I call her Madame Masque. And my father.... I had watched her turn into him, before Alan Guiles marched her off in chains. When he came back he had my father with him this time, and not the Whitney version. From there it went blurry, not unlike the events of this evening after Whitney's arrest.
A knock on the door startled me, and when I opened the door, Peter walked in.
"Hey..." he said, and I offered a weak smile. "How are you holding up?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"About as good as you can be." I said sadly.
"I can't believe she'd do that, I mean you guys were friends for so long!"
"Apparently that meant nothing to her, and coming back was just to kill me. I can't believe I didn't see it..." I sighed, and dropped onto the couch.
"Yeah..." Peter said, and I frowned at him, furrowing my brows.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, y'know, I didn't like her, and I tried to warn you, but..." Peter said, trailing off awkwardly at the end.
Part of me knew he didn't mean it to be insulting, but the better part of me was emotional and raw.
"Peter, I thought she was my best friend," I retorted.
"Yeah," he scoffed, something I'd never seen him do. "And I thought I was your best friend. But as soon as she showed up everyone else got pushed aside."
"Really Parker?" that was all it took. "Are you kidding me?"
"What, you didn't think it would bother me that you just shoved me aside like that?!" Peter accused.
"I invited you to come to Coney Island! You were the one who didn't want to go in the first place! So what, my old best friend comes back from another state, and I wanna catch up with her - and don't try and use the fact she tried to kill me to help your point. How do you think I felt when Aura suddenly showed up?!" I argued, throwing my hands in the air.
"I don't have to tell you every single thing that happens to me! I fought Serenity and Captain America and that was all before we were friends! I didn't know you, you didn't know me, and I was just fine then!" Peter shouted, and I barely paused to think before I spoke.
"You know what, maybe I rushed into this friendship a little too quickly."
Peter's face fell and we stared at each other for a moment before he sighed.
"I should get going." he said, and I realised how big a mistake I'd made.
"Peter, wait." I said lamely, but he was gone, slamming the door behind me. Going after him would only make it worse.
Picking up my phone I turned it on, dialling the first number that sprang to mind.
"Hey Gwen! Are you okay?? I saw what happened on the eleventh hour. They aired a story about it." MJ exclaimed, picking up right away. "My mom and I were in the middle of a Supernatural marathon when it came on and I wanted to call you but- sorry, I'll uh, i'll let you talk." she ended awkwardly, and I would've laughed had I been happier.
The story of what happened came spilling out of me like a dam, and MJ listened, offering up insults or commentary every so often. I even mentioned my fight with Peter, to which she suggested giving him a little time before trying to apologise. We talked until around three when MJ's mom intervened.
"Well, I gotta go unless I want to incur the never ending wrath of my mom." MJ joked, and I laughed, smiling with watery eyes.
We had switched to facetime about an hour ago and when MJ brushed a stray curl of hair out of her face, staring sleepily past the camera I realised something.
"I'm really glad you're my friend MJ, I don't know what I'd do without you..." I said softly, and MJ's eyes refocused on the camera.
"Me too, if you uh, ever need to talk I'm here." she said, giving me a small, awkward, yet meaningful smile, before hanging up.
I liked Michelle Jones.
As of now however, I was emotionally exhausted, it was around four in the morning, and I had yet to get any more sleep.
If I had any more tears to cry I would have, but I was all cried out, and my head was starting to hurt.
Staring up at the ceiling, I plugged my phone in and started the soundtrack to the Fellowship of the Rings.
Tomorrow was gonna be one helluva day.