Orphic | Spider-Man

THIRTEEN

PARAPLEGIC, NOT PARALEGAL," Octavia giggled. "I can't be a lawyer, I cry when I get angry." 
      "Uh huh," Peter nodded. Thank God he had his mask on so Octavia couldn't see that he had been smiling ever since they found refuge on the roof of Rockefeller Plaza. He just couldn't believe it. 
      It was her. It was Octavia. His Octavia. Plus four metal mechanical arms. . .or tentacles. . .was it too weird to call them tentacles? Peter knew that Otto had something to do with them, but the shock hadn't settled in because Octavia was here. She was here, smiling at him, talking to him, laughing with him, under the moonlight. Sockless and shoeless nonetheless, and holding her feet in her hands since the cool air was a little chill, but she was here. It was the Octavia Octavius he knew before the accident. Before Spider-Man made his biggest mistake. . .but she wasn't angry with him. 

      Octavia tilted her head at Spider-Man. "It's alright," she smiled. "You can laugh." 
      Peter shook his head and chuckled, "No, I know, I know," he sucked in a deep breath, looking down at the drone he was fiddling with in his hands, "it's just that. . .I haven't seen you since the accident." His voice got low. "I. . .tried looking for updates about you, but always came up empty. Now, you're back, with shorter hair and robotic arms." Peter let his head hang. "Letting you get hurt was the worst thing I have ever done. I have thought about you every day since then, and I've wondered just when I'd see you again, and now that I'm here with you. . .I don't even think my apology will ever be good enough." 
      "Apology?" Octavia asked. "Spider-Man, I never blamed you for the accident. Nothing that happened that night was your fault. You don't owe me an apology--" 
      "But I do," Peter snapped. Octavia jumped at the tone in his voice. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't forgive myself unless you forgive me first." Behind the mask, he looked into Octavia's eyes. 
      The green had become dull, but they still held so much of her left, she was just in pieces. And they were trying to reconnect. She looked good with short hair, it framed her heart-shaped face better, but she was paler than what Peter remembered. And the last time he saw her face was when she was growing cold on the cement, eyes up to the night sky back in October. After that, she was only a voice behind the door. 
      But this. . .this fulfilled the void in his chest. Just looking at her again, being less than a foot away from her was more than he could've asked for. 
      And his chest grew a fuzzy feeling when Octavia smiled small at him. 
      "Spider-Man," she said. "I forgive you for doing everything right, for being there for me, for saving me, allowing my dad to still have his daughter." 
      Her smile faltered, and her head slightly turned away from him. She swallowed hard, not wanting to cry in front of Spider-Man. 
      "Even though I'm a terrible daughter." Octavia muttered, eyes staring down at the ground. "I haven't been myself for months. I cut everyone out of my life and make my dad miserable." 

      The wind brushed her curls gently across her cheeks before Octavia let her head fall softly against the cement wall of the ledge she was sitting against. Peter's brows furrowed as he stared at her, but Octavia wouldn't have known behind his mask, so he tilted her head. 
      "Where's this coming from?" he asked. "Your dad loves you, I know he does--" Peter had to watch himself here. "I remember the banquet--oh, wait, I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about that--" 
      Octavia sniffed and shook her head. "It's fine. I don't really remember what happened after I was shot anyways. The only thing I remember is hearing my dad at the hospital, saying there was no way that he wasn't going to let me be miserable in a wheelchair for the rest of my life." She rolled her eyes at that last statement, and Peter noticed. 
      "I'd think the tentacles--is it weird to call them that?--can be a breakthrough for people in your condition--situation--problem--I'm sorry," Peter said. But then something Octavia said brought him back. "Wait, you don't remember what happened after you were shot?" 
      "Yeah," Octavia told him.
     She doesn't remember me taking my mask off. Peter thought.
      "And back to your comment before," Octavia added, "I agree: my dad does love me, but your relationship can get a little rocky when your dad doesn't exactly tell you that he's going to put a microchip in your brain, and you wake up with the underside of your head shaved with four robotic tentacles moving at your will. Then, you sort of see yourself as a monster."