It's been almost nine months.

Matt still misses Peter. Of course he does. How can he not? He's homesick for him. The apartment doesn't feel the same without him, doesn't smell right. When he lost Karen, at least her scent wasn't everywhere, but Peter lived here. All his stuff is still here. Matt flat-out refused to get rid of it; he's become a hoarder, broken one too many times and unwilling to let go. He's already lost so many lovers to death---Elektra, Heather, Glorianna, Karen---and this is just too much. He's kept everything, right down to Peter's underwear and socks.

It's kind of weird. That's what his girlfriend says, anyway, but she hasn't asked him to get rid of anything, either, so it's moot.

Life is as back to normal as it will ever get. Sometimes people will ask him questions about Peter, but it's been a while and he's already given whatever answers he feels like. A lot of his clients will lament Spider-Man's death, some will apologize to him to what he lost. There are unauthorized biographies of Spider-Man all over the place, collections of stories written by people inspired by Spider-Man, a few slam novels here or there. For the most part, Peter's surviving friends and family is pretty staunch on not giving interviews, especially the other superheroes. Almost everything published that isn't a first person account is a lot of guesswork.

It's been a long day. Successful case, but a long day. Actually, it's been kind of a long few weeks. He lost a good employee recently to a car accident and without any relatives in the state to take care of her son, Matt stepped in to deal with the legal parts instead. The kid left for New Jersey today, off to live with his aunt and uncle who own a biological research facility. He didn't want to leave the city, but there's nowhere for him to go and besides, he wants to be a biologist, right? He'll learn there.

Matt comes home tired, flopping down on the couch. His girlfriend is in the apartment, even though the door was locked when he came in. Might've come in through the window, Matt really doesn't care. She's here now, and when he sits, he hears her footsteps coming from the bedroom to the living room. She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling all of it over one shoulder before she approaches.

"Hey, handsome. You look exhausted." Hands find Matt's shirt just before she lowers herself onto the couch, straddling him and resting on her knees.

"Long day. Kid's off to Jersey." Matt sets his cane aside, running his hands down her sides, resting on her ass. He leans in, pressing his nose to her sheet and inhaling deeply. It's Peter's shirt and still smells like him; Matt likes her better when she smells like Peter. If he's with her for her or in love with her, he hasn't said as much.

To be fair, it goes both ways. There's no love in the way she leans down to kiss him, but there's lust there, and a mutual need for human comfort, so it all works out. They're attracted to each other. Matt leans up into the kiss, her hair brushing across one side of his face. She always smells good, in her way, and he imagines that she's beautiful. And if she's not----he slides his hands up, giving her breasts an affectionate squeeze. If she's not she certainly feels like it.

She grins, moving her hips and rubbing against his lap. "So I guess I'm sticking around today."

"Yeah." Matt reaches back down for her hips, holding her down against him and pushing up. She has full hips and legs for miles and he loves it. He adored Peter but ... fuck, he loves women. Matt Murdock loves women. "You're sticking around, Felicia."

* * *

Jordan Harrison is none too happy to be in New Jersey, but he's none too happy anywhere right now. Life had just gotten bad when Mr. Parker had been fired and worse and worse after that. His death really devastated Jordan and he was a bit of a trouble student when he started school in September. Belligerent, uncooperative, slacking in his science class, using the excuse that it's physics and not biology so what the fuck does he need it for?

And then ... then his mother died. Killed by a criminal fleeing the scene in a stolen car. The kind of thing that Spider-Man would have stopped in a minute. Jordan's never met his aunt and uncle for reasons he'd never gotten around to asking his mom, and now he never would.

They're ... eh, they're nice people. Ish. Scientists, which is cool and everything, except his mom is dead so who the hell cares? They have a little baby at home that they adopted a year and a half before, a girl named Karen with a big mop of blonde hair. Nice enough. They've already got their nice marriage and baby makes three and blah blah blah, Jordan feels like an intruder. They're trying, though.

Uncle Elliot is showing him around the facility now. They live in what seems to Jordan like the middle of nowhere, no neighbors in sight, and their research facility is practically in their back yard. It's a small place, out of the way and rarely makes big discoveries. They're just not in a place where bizarre things and miracles happen.

Well. Until now.

"---and here. In here, this is the exciting room, Jordan." His uncle pauses in front of the door. "This is top secret, okay? I'm showing you this because we're friends. We got this one from New York. They want it kept really hush-hush."

Jordan frowns. "Why would some hotshot scientists in New York outsource to Jersey?"

"It's ... well. It's probably because they're afraid it's actually some kind of monster and would rather it terrorize the Jersey countryside than the city," Uncle Elliot admits.

"...Huh?"

"Here, let me show you." Uncle Elliot unlocks the door, letting Jordan go in in front of him.

Jordan steps in and his mouth drops open. Inside the room is a giant cocoon---or is it an egg sac? Does it matter? The same thing he found almost five months ago. He'd called the police afterward and no one had told him what happened to it. The point is, it's here, and Jordan decides to pretend he's never seen it before.

"Wow."

"Isn't it amazing? We've had it for months and it seems to be growing. You want to see the ultrasounds? Come on, I'll show you---"

As Uncle Elliot leads Jordan to the table with all of his papers, Jordan looks back, up at the egg sac. The light in the room is bright, and the ever so faint outline of a person is resting in the middle of the sac, bigger than what Jordan remembers from all those months ago. Just as he's looking, the thing inside shifts like it's stretching, pressing against the side of the sac, outlining a pair of hands.

Like whatever is in there is ready to be out.