Some mornings, Peter wakes up and likes to pretend that this is what life would have been with his parents. He stares at the ceiling and pretends that Curt's name is Richard, that Martha's name is Mary, and that Billy is the little brother he would have had if his parents had lived. He has to imagine that this is what life would have been. Curt and Martha are like a young couple in love, living together again at last; Curt hasn't had a Lizard Man outbreak in well over a year and a half, Billy's eighteen and going to go to college in New York City. At least someone got their happy ending, or so it seems.

Peter's been with the Connors family for a little over a week. He likes it here. He and Curt have been running tests in the labs after hours and Peter has a better understanding of why Matt didn't recognize him: he's changed. Peter's (new) heartbeat is unnaturally slow but strong. They can't account for scent but his blood's changed in composition. He's less human now and, to be honest, that ... disturbs him. Genetically, he's further from human than he once was and while it's a strange comfort to know why Matt didn't believe him, it's a scary idea.

He's not a mutant. He's not ... anything. He's one of a kind, and not in the quirky sense. It doesn't change who he is mentally, and it's not as if he's planning on having children anytime soon, but it hurts deep down in a way that Peter doesn't know how to account for.

* * *

Peter still doesn't have any ID, but he goes shopping for the Connors family. He doesn't want to be locked up in the house and hiding from the world, so he volunteers for any little errands they want done.

No one's recognized him yet. He's gotten a passing look once, possibly twice, but most people don't look that close. It's not as if they expect him to be walking around, either. So while Curt is in the lab, Peter's out, and ... he's kind of enjoying the freedom. Everything looks brighter, smells better. He's not thinking about where he goes from here, how he gets his life back. He can't let himself think that way or he'll go crazy.

He's still using Elliot Harrison's bike. Better than letting it rust, right? New York is a pain in the ass to navigate from the ground no matter what, but he can't risk webslinging right now. It's still good practice for the new reflexes, avoiding being killed (again) by cars and pedestrians alike. The traffic on the ground is so clogged that it actually takes Peter a while to realize that it's actually backing up.

That's when he looks up and sees the smoke. People are clogging up the street and Peter climbs off the bike to walk instead. At first, it just seems like a regular car accident, blocking the road. Some people are crying, more than one is on their cell phone.

There are sirens in the distance, but they're too far off. The closer Peter gets, the worse it looks. It's not just two cars, it's three---four---more than that. It's a pile up and now he can hear the screaming is coming from the cars.

"Welcome back," he mutters to himself. Ditching the bike outside a flower shop, Peter jogs to get closer, pushing his way through the crowd that's amassed just to look. Some things never change, do they? "Excuse me---sorry, can I just get through here? Thanks---"

Most are just watching, but there's a man in the middle of the cars. He's crying hysterically, pushing at an overturned car that's barely budging. The car is crushed, twisted and angled in such a way that his hands are cut as he pushes. "I'm coming! I can hear the sirens; you'll be fine, I promise, they'll be here."

Peter's reaction is like instinct. Pushing his way out of the crowd, he climbs over the wreckage. "Sir---?" Under the wrecked car is a woman, her dark hair singed and obscuring her face. She's struggling, but ... not much. "Sir, let me. Please."

The man looks up at Peter, eyes red and puffy. "Who are you? Where's the ambulance---?!"

"It's okay." This is probably a bad idea, to be jumping in like this. Every piece of selfishness in him is telling him to keep his head down, keep his nose out of it, but this woman is dying and the man is crying so hard he's shaking. Peter pries him away from the car, as easily as if the man were a kitten despite his struggling and shoving.

The man is still shouting as he's pulled away. Peter tunes him out, reaching down to grab the car. The torn metal digs into his hands, but doesn't break his skin, even when he starts to lift it.

It's lighter than he expected---that, or he really is stronger. The car groans as he lifts it into the air, held up over Peter's head. The man is staring, sounding as if he's hyperventilating, and Peter shouts, "Listen! Sirens! They're almost here. Do something for me!"

"---What? Do something for ... who the hell are you?!"

"Stop with the questions! That car over there: look inside, see if there's someone in it!" Peter indicates with his head to a car that's irrevocably totaled.

"I can't---what? I don't---why?!" The man is frozen in place, torn between running away and running to the woman and just keeling over on the spot. Peter sighs. He can't hold this car forever and can't move the woman without risking injuring her some more.

And then: "There's no one."

Peter looks over----and there's Felicia, watching him with glassy eyes. Matt's nowhere in sight.

"There's no one in the car," she repeats.

Peter swallows, gathering his wits. "...Thank you." And then he tosses the car in his hands. It lands squarely on top of the other with a metallic crunch. The people around it shrink back, and one gasps, cradling his bloody arm against his chest.

"That was my car!" the man says helplessly.

"You weren't gonna drive it again, anyway," Felicia snaps. "He's clearing the road for the ambulance. That's worth more than your car!"

"Stop it!" Peter calls. "He just got into a car accident. Stop it!" Felicia falls into silence as Peter runs to check the other cars. Nobody really moves. Nobody really knows what to say. Most of the people in the accident have vacated their cars or been pulled out by other passengers and are waiting for the ambulance on the sidewalk.

The ambulances arrive a few long, painful minutes later. Peter looks up for Felicia---and she's gone. Damn it! But maybe it's the crowd, maybe she's just lost, and Peter disentangles himself from the throng, going back to find his bike.

...And that's gone, too. Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. "Someone stole my bike," he mutters. "Someone stole my bike. This is not my day..."

"You sure about that, Spider?" Peter jumps when he hears her voice, before a wave of relief washes over him. Felicia's leaning against the front window of the flower shop, even if he doesn't remember hearing her walk toward him. Her stance is uncomfortable, and it's clear she's trying to look much more relaxed than she is.

"Felicia." He isn't sure if he can move, so Felicia does it for him, giving up the facade and throwing herself into his arms. She's picked up effortlessly, swung around at least once, twice.

Pulling back, Felicia kisses him hard on the mouth---and he kisses her back, hands buried in her hair. He's not thinking about Matt, and it's not about lust. They're hard, grateful kisses, and people passing are making disgusted noises and speeding up as they go. Eventually the kisses break and Peter holds her too tight for comfort, though she doesn't push him away.

"You believe me," he says, cautious.

"Of course I do. I know you, Pete," Felicia replies, emphatic. "Where are you staying? I know Matt called everyone---"

"Connors. Matt doesn't know Connors, they're letting me stay. I'm safe." Peter pulls back, holding her face in his hands. "Let's get out of here. We need to talk."

"We do." It's the closest Peter's ever seen Felicia come to crying, and he can't tell if he's grateful for the sight of her or if it makes him uncomfortable.

So they leave. They end up at Felicia's, they make coffee, and Felicia tells Peter what he missed. About the massive funeral, who said what---what Matt said. That MJ had come back for a while and then left because it was too painful. It turns out that she and Matt have been together (ish) for a few months now, and that they're ... kind of honest.

That sometimes Matt wakes up and calls her Peter, and that sometimes she does the same to him. Afterward, they usually don't talk until the end of the day. It's how they mourn, and they're still mourning. Peter's heart breaks.

They hold each other to convince themselves that this is real and Peter worries that he's bruising her. For a long time, there's silence, and Felicia shakes like she's crying. Peter rocks her, holding her to him and staring over her head, out the window.

And then, shattering the silence: "Do you love Matt?"

Felicia hesitates, looking up at him with a strange expression. Like he's completely missed some kind of point she's been trying to make. "No. No, we're not like that."

Peter pauses, pulling back apologetically. Oh, right, good listening ears, Parker. "I want to go home," he says lamely. "You believe me. You have to---I need you, Felicia."

Felicia fidgets, her expression nebulous. "You need me." She lets that sit on her tongue for a moment. "You want me to help convince everyone you're real."

"Yes."

She grins and it's all teeth. That familiar, mischievous spark that he fell in love with is back in her eyes. "Of course, Spider. I'll even help you get your boyfriend back while I'm at it."