Felicia Hardy didn't know what was worse: seeing the man you love with all your heart brought in half dead, or knowing that if he did die, the last thing you ever said to each other would have been an argument.
An argument she had regretted the moment she got home. He was right, as he always was. One would think her pride would sting at admitting that — but Felicia had always understood the kind of person she loved.
He was a genius. He had no equal. She highly doubted any man or woman on this planet could match wits with her love — be it with words, actions, or ideas. He would always be the sharper mind.
Even if he never admitted it — and he never would, the noble bastard was too humble for that — she knew the man she loved. She knew him well.
And that only made the sight before her all the more impossible to bear.
She had received the call just as she was going to bed. She had been up late, her news feed filled with images of the Brooklyn Bridge covered in her love's webs — a message written there just for her.
'I love you.'
The moment she saw it, she had forgiven him. Though she realised it was she who needed to ask for forgiveness — it had been her fault they argued in the first place. But then again, being the woman in the relationship did have its advantages.
She had been expecting him to come swinging through her bedroom window, a single rose in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. She had expected to spend the rest of the night with him, doing her very best to make him forgive her.
By the time she was done, she had expected even he would have had a hard time catching his breath. But that never happened. No — she never got the chance.
Tony Stark, of all people, had called her. He was frantic. The moment the words 'Peter's hurt' reached her ear, all thoughts of sleep left her mind, replaced by a hollow ringing.
She didn't remember how she got to Avengers Tower, nor did she remember how she got past security. Thinking back, she believed she had used the silver bracelets Peter gave her for her birthday to swing through the city. But she genuinely couldn't remember anything else.
When she arrived, she saw a small army of doctors surrounding a body. A body so beaten and broken that she didn't realise it was the man she loved until she saw his hair. His blood-soaked hair.
She gasped and stumbled backward in fear, the door to his room closing behind her.
She pressed her back against the wall and sank down as helplessness filled her completely. She watched in horror as doctors and nurses streamed in and out. She recalled Tony Stark moving with them — pale, haggard, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His beard was thick and unkempt, nothing like the perfectly groomed man she was used to seeing on the news.
"Sir! We need help! His spinal cord has been damaged. We need to address it before anything else, or he won't walk again!" a doctor cried out, the words echoing in Felicia's head.
"Fine! JARVIS! Who is the best neurologist in the city?!" Tony called out.
"That would be Doctor Stephen Strange, sir," the AI replied.
"Then get him here immediately!"
"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot."
"And why the hell not?!"
"He was in an accident two weeks ago. His hands have been irreparably damaged."
"Fine! Then get me the second-best neurologist in the city. And get him here now!" Tony growled. He then dismissed the other doctors, who rushed back to the surgical suite, eager to save her Peter's life.
Stark approached Felicia. She didn't know how she looked, but judging by the pitying expression he sent her way, it must have been bad. Her mind was consumed with doubt and fear — nothing else but the terrifying thought of what would happen if her Peter didn't make it.
"He's going to be fine," Stark told her. She didn't believe him. "I've got the best doctors in the city working on him. They'll have him sorted out in no time." He offered a half-hearted smile. "Hey — maybe after all this, you two could take a long vacation. I have an amazing house in the Hamptons you could use. Just don't throw any big parties, okay?"
Felicia ignored his poor attempt at humour. It wasn't his best material, but she didn't blame him. She didn't honestly care. She looked at him. "Why didn't you take him to a hospital?"
Tony sighed. "Given his unique... well, everything — I figured he'd be better treated here. Don't worry. I have the best doctors and equipment on standby. Peter Parker will not die tonight. I promise you."
And he kept that promise. Peter pulled through — though barely.
It took twenty doctors working for over ten hours to stabilise him. For every one of those hours, Felicia remained rooted to the spot outside his door, unable to look anywhere else. She was certain by now that she smelled — she was sure of it — but she couldn't bring herself to care.
When he was finally stable, she took up her position at his bedside and refused to leave it for any reason. She drank nothing but coffee. She kept watch over him like a hawk. She ate a little here and there — a protein bar, occasionally. She didn't remember doing much else.
The room was comfortable enough. People came and went, leaving cards and small gifts to wish him a speedy recovery. Someone even brought flowers. She didn't understand why. Honestly, he would have preferred something useful — a comic book, or something to that effect.
As she sat there, watching over his broken form, she couldn't help but wonder how much she meant to him. How it was that in such a short time, the cold-hearted persona she had so carefully constructed had crumbled as though it were made of nothing. He hadn't simply broken through her walls — he had demolished them.
He was her everything. She understood that now. There had always been a question of what exactly they were to each other — lovers, partners, friends. No. She knew now. They were more than all of that. They were soul mates.
She snorted at the thought. Such an idea had always seemed so... impossible. But now she had living proof that the concept was real. Herself.
She felt a deep sadness watching him lie there. What if he had died? What would she have done? What could she have done? Would she ever have recovered? He gave her everything and still believed it wasn't enough. And yet — God — she wouldn't have been able to live with herself.
The sadness hung over her like a cloud for an entire day, and thoughts of the darkest kind surfaced. She pushed them back, but she wasn't sure she could keep them at bay entirely. Not until Peter's eyes opened once more and looked at her with that playful warmth they always had.
Felicia had remained as the Avengers came and went. Tony visited when he could, checked to make sure she didn't need anything, and then left. Bruce — who was horrified at the discovery that a teenager was Spider-Man — made his visits an hourly routine. She remembered when he first found out. It wasn't pleasant.
"He's just a child!" Bruce cried out, rounding on Tony with a ferocity that made Felicia briefly wonder whether they'd have to contend with the other one as well.
"He is... yes," Tony nodded.
"You let a child fight?! He could have been killed, Tony!"
"Bruce, listen—"
"—No, you listen!" Bruce snapped. "A child has no place in our world, Tony! He's lucky he didn't die this time! There should not be a next time. We have to stop him. We have to make sure he never puts on that mask again!"
"You can't do a thing about it," Felicia said flatly.
The man turned to her. The teenage girl held the gaze of two of the most brilliant men on the planet — one stronger than a god — and didn't flinch.
"You think you can stop him from doing what he does? Do you? Please. Don't make me laugh. He doesn't need your permission, and he certainly won't care if he doesn't have your blessing. He's a hero — not because he's a thrill-seeker or a madman, but because he simply is one. And I don't care who you think you are, but he is Spider-Man. And this?" She gestured at his injuries. "This won't keep him down. He won't give up. He will never give up. He might pause for a while to recover — but you will never be able to stop him."
The two men said nothing. Felicia dismissed them with a wave and turned back to her vigil over Peter. They would see. Any day now, he would be up and about. And she would be there when it happened.
It was mid-afternoon on the second day of Peter's convalescence when she was finally forced to leave and shower. She was force-fed by a woman named Potts — a redhead, rather overbearing. Irritating redheads.
Speaking of which — Jean. She would have to tell Jean. She didn't know how she was going to manage that. The words 'Peter almost died' weren't ones she ever wished to have to say aloud.
When she returned that evening she found she wasn't alone. Standing over Peter's unconscious form was a bald man in a black trench coat with an eye patch. Fury always looked sharp and composed, never showing his age. But now — now Felicia didn't see the Director of SHIELD. She saw a tired man.
"The kid's strong," he said, looking up at her. "He'll wake up soon enough."
Felicia nodded. "I know. You don't need to tell me."
Fury gave a faint smile. "Figured. Stark told me you had some choice words for Banner regarding Peter's condition."
The girl shrugged. "Maybe I did. Why do you ask?"
Fury was quiet for a long time, saying nothing. He seemed to be weighing something — something important. Finally he sighed and withdrew a portable display screen — one of Peter's own inventions, an SA.
He brought up a map and passed it to Felicia. It was a map of Rome, with the outskirts highlighted. "What's this?"
"Doom's robot had been dismantled and kept for analysis in Peter's lab," Fury said. "When it reactivated, it managed to break into Reed's lab and use it to bring its master back."
"How?" Felicia asked.
Fury swiped the screen and played a piece of security footage. A figure dressed in black could be seen slipping through a window into Peter's lab — a window hundreds of feet above the ground. The figure approached the robot and reassembled it, removing some kind of glowing blue power cell and inserting it into the unit's housing.
"We haven't been able to identify this individual," Fury said, "but we do know that after they left, a signal was broadcast from this location," he pointed to the map of Rome, "activating the robot and programming it to free Doom."
"Who?" was Felicia's cold question.
"...I suspect HYDRA," Fury replied.
Felicia looked at him. "How?"
"We managed to trace the location — that's what I've been doing these past few days." Fury touched Peter's arm, almost apologetically. "We found several files connected to them. They wanted revenge. After what Peter did to Wyndham, and his role in exposing their organisation to the world... they wanted to remove him permanently."
"They knew Doom would try to kill him?" Felicia asked.
"Yes... they did. Or at least, they hoped," Fury said grimly.
"Bastards," Felicia's voice was thick with venom — pure, unfiltered contempt for the organisation. If she ever came face to face with them again... she didn't think Peter would approve of what she would do.
She passed the device back to Fury. "Thank you for telling me. It helps, knowing who was responsible for all of this."
Fury nodded. "Right. Of course."
Felicia walked to her love's side and took his hand in both of hers. "I just wish I could actually do something about it. About them."
Fury looked at her. "Do you really mean that?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No doubt.
"What would you give up?"
"Everything."
"Even him?" He looked at Peter's still form.
Felicia turned to face the man. "What exactly are you telling me, Fury?"
"I have a mission for you. A mission to ensure HYDRA never comes after Peter again."
"How?"
"Your father will help you in that regard."
Felicia looked down at those closed eyes — those eyes she feared she would never see open again. "How long?"
"Until HYDRA falls. For good."
She was silent for a long time. She was thinking. Weighing just how much she was truly willing to sacrifice. She had meant it when she said everything — but him? Peter Parker? She didn't know if she could do that.
But to protect him? To make sure those bastards never again came close to killing him? She would gladly give up anything to ensure the events of these past few days never happened again.
She looked at Fury. "What do I have to do?"