Something Immortal

Confusion

  As Peter continued to tell stories of the both of you, memories and emotions that you had not experienced for so long came back to you. But something was wrong about them. They felt strange, almost as if they had belonged to someone else. Not you. Right now, you still felt as though Peter was a stranger to you, and realizing that you had once loved him so deeply that even his flaws seemed beautiful was now wrong. It wasn't you. Well, it was, but it didn't feel like you. You hated that you couldn't feel those emotions anymore, because you wanted so badly to love the man in front of you again. It would take time, but you hoped that you could feel that way again. For now, you decided to keep these problems to yourself.

"That's all that I remember," Peter suddenly said. "Is...this helping?"

You nodded. "Yes. It is. I'm starting to remember things from my perspective." But not feeling it.

"I am glad that my memory has been good enough to help you out," Peter said.

It did. But I can't love you like I used to.

"I remember the dance now, and the song you were writing. Did you ever finish it?" you asked.

Would it's words mean anything to me now?

"Actually, I did. You came over to my house that day. And it was a surprise. I hadn't just written that song. I had learned to play all of your favorite songs on the guitar." Peter smiled fondly at this memory.

I want to love you so bad. And I feel like I do but...almost as if it wasn't me.

"I would love to hear them again, sometime," you told him.

Hopefully then, I can give you the love that you deserve.

"Of course, Doll. Anything for you."

My heart didn't flutter. Oh no. It can't be true. I don't want to have to work for him again. This is all so confusing.

Peter looked at you, concerned. "I feel like there's something wrong with you, Doll. You keep on looking confused."

Nothing is right. I AM very confused. I'm not sure what emotions are real or not.

"You have found another dame, right? I mean, it's been so long..." You were almost hoping that he had found someone who deserved him.

"Why would I, Y/N? It took me over fifteen years to realize that I loved you. It was much before that I started loving you, but I didn't recognize it. That was foolish on my part. If only I had told you...then I wouldn't have broken our pact due to my guilt."

You raised an eyebrow. "Our pact? On what?"

He looked at you guiltily. "We promised each other that we would never drink. You know, because we saw what it could do to someone. But when I thought I lost you...voice started attacking my brain. They blamed me for what happened and made me rethink everything that I had done. They told me that I should go join you, that I didn't really love you if I had let you die, and, well...I gave in. It was too painful. But I can stop, thankfully. I think that the voices will be quiet now."

You weren't angry. How could you be, considering all the things he had gone through, according to your memory. At least he knew that he could quit, and that he wasn't just drinking for the sake of taking a shot. And you knew very well what voices in your head could do to you. You heard them occasionally yourself. In fact, you doubted that there was a single person that earth that didn't deal with dark thoughts.

"Peter, I understand. I'm not angry at you. Not at all. I mean, I haven't even touched alcohol, but only because I was consistently afraid that it was drugged." You let out a laugh. "Don't let your mistakes drag you down. Learn from them."

"You said that to me all the time." He was smiling.

"So," you started, trying to change the topic, "your friends that I saw last night, they aren't from around here, are they."

"Was it that obvious?" Peter looked alarmed.

"Well, woman aren't supposed to have half of their hair shaved off, or earrings in their eyebrows. The little girl...was definitely not from here. And the little African boy was sitting with you guys. That's usually not allowed. And was that a talking pig?" You tilted your head in a questioning sort of way.

"Um...no....They're my friends...from another country. They came to help me with an investigation..." Peter stuttered.

You started laughing. "Okay, okay, you can explain later if you feel comfortable."

Peter did seem relieved. "It's classified. If you decide to become a PI, I'll let you in on the secret."

The two of you kept on talking for about a half-hour more, then Peter excused himself. He dropped you off at your apartment and left, leaving you hoping to see him again soon.

...

"How did it go?" Ham asked as soon as Peter walked through the door.

He was grinning from ear to ear. "It was great. She seems to remember more than she did before. Though...I didn't get anything for the investigation."

Peni waved her hand. "That can wait. It's just a few papers, and with all of us, you can get the investigation done in no time. That's actually what we were working on while you were gone. We found the name of the lady's husband."

"Y'know, all of you wouldn't make bad PI's, if you want ideas for your future," Peter told Miles, Gwen, and Peni. "And if you want to get out of the newspaper business."

This was directed to Peter B. and Ham, who both nodded in agreement.

"Well, now that we have his name, we can find an address to where he might be," Peter stood up and turned on the light to his desk. "Could you give me the name?"

"Sure." Peter B. handed him a slip of paper.

Peter didn't look at it right away, and instead took out an address book. He scanned the pages and then looked at the name. His heart dropped. It couldn't be. What was his plan? He must be out to find Peter.

The name was Adrian Toomes.

None other than the Vulture.

The one who had killed Uncle Ben.