𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒, 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍. She was already on her way, following the directions Gabriel had given her to Peter's home, but she then realized exactly what she was doing, and wondered if her presence was going to be taken as well as she initially thought it would be.

She had met May Parker at the funeral, and she had been very kind, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't feel rather invaded with a random classmate of Peter's appearing to offer notes and condolences; it made more sense for his friend to appear, less pitying.

Though Phoebe didn't pity them—she felt terrible for them, of course, but pity wasn't the right word—but she wasn't just doing this for them, as terrible as it sounded to say, she was doing this for herself as well; she needed to atone for what she did, and she was willing to do whatever she needed in order to be rid of the guilt.

Of course, nothing would bring back Ben Parker, nor make up for the mistake Spider-Man had made, but maybe she could make it easier on the people she had wronged for her own choices.

She could hear Gabriel's frustrated screams already.

As she continued to walk, her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out to find an incoming call from Sonny, whom she had forgotten to notify about her not showing up; she had just assumed that her father would have told him, though considering that her father was editor-in-chief, she probably shouldn't have.

"Hey, Sunshine, you coming in?" the man asked, and it seemed like he was chewing on something while he spoke.

"No, sorry," she sighed, rubbing her face with her free hand, "I gotta go bring notes to someone in my class 'cause he wasn't at school."

There was a shuffling in the background as Sonny spoke, "Don't worry about it, Sunny, I'm not mad, that sounds like a really nice thing you're doing. Did the teacher make you or something?"

"No," she admitted, "I just feel bad for him, you know? Not just 'cause his uncle died, but that's also it, I just feel like I owe him since he brought me notes when I was out, but because of other stuff too."

Phoebe winced when she heard herself speak, struggling to keep the facts to herself. The issue with Sonny was that he was very good at getting people to trust him, as well as well as getting people to speak with him, and with their relationship, Phoebe often had to stop herself before she told him too much and made a mess she couldn't clean up. Still, it was rather hard for her to remember to keep certain things under wraps when she talked to the man.

"Oh, that kid?" Sonny asked, remembering what Phoebe had told him about the boy, "It's great that you're helping him, Sunny, and it makes sense that you wanna just give him notes too, but what do you mean by other stuff?"

She made a sound in response, trying to come up with a good lie, but in the end settled for a vague explanation, "I don't know, I just feel like I gotta just do nice stuff for him until, you know, I quit feeling guilty. I don't know why I feel guilty, nothing happened, but I just do, I don't even know him, really, we don't talk or anything."

She hoped that Sonny wouldn't read into the various plot holes and lack of logic, but if the man did notice anything—which, being a reporter and general human being, he no doubt did—he didn't indicate as such, instead staying quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"Remember what I told you in the parking lot at the science presentation?" he asked, his tone soft, and he sounded more serious than he had seemed in quite some time.

She thought for a few moments, trying to remember what had happened before she woke up in the hospital. "The thing about how I can't blame myself for stuff I can't control?"

"And you can't beat yourself up to the breaking point when you mess up," he finished, sounding just as he had when they had talked in his car, "Sunny, I get that you feel guilty for a lot of things and you wanna take responsibility, there's nothing wrong with feeling bad when you do something or something happens and wanting to make things right, but you gotta let it go at some point, you can't just kill yourself over everything. And I know you think that if you did or didn't do something, maybe then it would've been different, but the thing about maybe's is you're never gonna know, so what's the point in thinking about it. There's gotta be a point where you just say that you did what you did and move on."

"But when will I know?" she asked, not bothering to try and cover her tracks by making sure that it didn't directly correlate to her current predicament.

Sonny sighed, though he sounded like he was smiling. "That's when you gotta learn how to be nicer to yourself, Sunny, 'cause you need to be the one to figure it out, it depends on everything. Just try not to be too hard on yourself all the time, okay?"

She was silent for a while, barely checking as she crossed the street, nearing Peter's apartment building. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Sonny. I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Sunny."

With that, the call disconnected, and Phoebe was left standing at the bottom of Peter's apartment building, looking over Gabriel's instructions on how to get to their particular door, and it didn't take long for her to get inside and make her way up the various stairs, glancing out the windows that were on her left-hand side, the sun just beginning to creep down towards the horizon; she would get home well before sunset, and since she had the weekend to do homework, so had no reason not to go on her rounds, no matter how much she didn't want to.

When she finally made it to the door, she faltered, her hand beginning to raise, ready to knock. It wasn't late in the afternoon, but that didn't mean that she could bother anyone without concern, and she didn't know if anyone was even home.

Finally, she stopped thinking, deciding to just knock and hope for the best, partly hoping that no one would be home and she could simply slip the notes under the door without anyone opening the door after her with questions as to why.

She listened carefully, closing her eyes as she focused on the sounds past the door, and caught the sound of someone turning off a stove and footsteps rushing towards the door, though slowing as they neared, the start of a call caught in the throat of the person making their way forward; it made sense, they would most likely want to make sure she wasn't someone trying to take up their time for no interesting reason.

She heard the person lean against the door, and she figured they were looking at her through the peephole. She forced herself to seem none the wiser, fiddling with the strap of her bag and her phone, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible, though she wondered how threatening a young teenage girl could seem, but considering what she was truly capable of, her question was a moot point.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a confused, but smiling May Parker who tilted her head at her, keeping a hand on the door. "Hi! I'm sorry, we've met before, right?"

"Yes, we have, um, my name's Phoebe Carisi, I'm in Peter's AP Environmental Science class," Phoebe explained, unable to stop herself as she raised a hand up to her neck, "I noticed he wasn't in class and we have a big test coming up and we learned a bunch of new stuff, and Ned wasn't at school so, um, I just brought his notes here, I hope you don't mind me just showing up."

Her father would be incredibly disappointed at how ineloquent she was, for some reason she wasn't able to take a breath and communicate as effectively as she very well knew she could; it seemed that nothing about this situation was going to be easy for her, though she figured she deserved that.

Then Sonny's words rose to the surface alongside Gabriel's, fighting back her thoughts with points of their own, and she just needed to focus on what the woman in front of her was saying, at least for that particular moment.

Fortunately, her presence was taken as positively as it could have been.

"Oh!" May cried, eyebrows shooting up, her entire body coming up in alert, a smile blossoming seconds later, "Oh, sweetheart, that's so nice of you! Here, wait, come in, I'm sure Peter would love a visit from one of his friends, it's so sad Ned's sick, he's been so nice coming here."

Phoebe didn't have the heart to tell the woman that she couldn't stay—especially when she could—nor that she and Peter weren't actually friends—it didn't seem right—so she just smiled and thanked her, stepping into their apartment, looking towards the kitchen where she could smell all the ingredients that were being used to make something that didn't smell as nice as May probably wanted it to be.

She hoped she didn't make a face at the smell, but it seemed that she had as the woman immediately began to apologize. "I'm trying a new recipe, it's a work-in-progress, though I don't think it's working out," she laughed then, though her smile began to dim as she added, softly, "Ben was the cook, but he always appreciated my ideas."

Phoebe didn't know how she was supposed to respond, so she simply gave a small smile with the hopes that it got her point across, though May wasn't quite looking at anything at the moment, though she quickly shook away whatever thoughts she had to motion down towards the hall, beginning to walk, and Phoebe figured she should follow, casting one last glance towards the still burning stove.

The two paused in front of a door with residue from stickers long since removed and the corner of a poster long since torn down, though Phoebe didn't have much time to dwell on them as May was knocking on the door, calling out as she opened it.

"Peter? One of your friends is here to see you."

Phoebe fought back a wince at the term, instead focusing on the darkness of the room and the sound of a bed creaking in the far end of the room.

"Ned's sick," Peter called from inside, and he sounded confused, and Phoebe couldn't blame him.

"No, honey, it's Phoebe Carisi," May explained, her tone gentle and comforting, and Phoebe didn't know if she should speak then, though she wasn't sure if she would be heard over the louder creaking and general rustle that came immediately afterwards.

Phoebe stepped forward then, still behind the opening door, peering into the room. It was rather small, and she couldn't see past the door, but in the corner that she could see was a small bed with Peter Parker sitting bolt upright, staring at her with his wide eyes with deep bags and red around the edges, his nose in no paler of a condition, gaping at her as if trying to discern whether this was a prank or even real.

"I'll just leave you two to chat, don't want to burn the whole building down," May said, laughing slightly, and it sounded so casual, but Phoebe could hear the strain in her voice she fought to hide, and it pained her more than if the woman had just burst into tears right then and there.

Stepping inside, Phoebe glanced around, taking in the whole room as she moved to shut the door, leaving it open a few inches. There wasn't much to see, however, a desk with various computer parts in the left corner opposite the bed, a closet right beside the door where she stood. It was small, but there were a few posters and things pressed up against the wall.

She didn't know if it was very Peter or not, she didn't know him well enough to even pretend to know what that would mean.

Finally looking back at him, she tried to smile. "Hi. I, um, I brought you your notes."

Peter blinked. "You didn't have to do that." He looked rather uncomfortable, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie and running a hand through his unruly hair that hadn't seemed to be gelled since the last time he had been at school.

She shrugged, letting her backpack straps slip from her shoulders, spinning it to unzip it and pull out his notes. "You did it for me, and we have a test coming up. You really helped me, I'm just returning the favor as best I can."

It sounded rather cold, even to her own ears, but she had to make it clear; after May introduced her as his friend, she had to make it known to him that this was a business transaction mixed with person atonement.

Whether or not Peter got the message, he nodded, looking down at his hands as he wrung them, biting his bottom lip. "Ned didn't tell me that you've been writing them for me, but I kind of figured. So, um, thank you. And, I mean, you didn't need to. And-and you came all the way here?"

He looked up at her then, still seated on his bed, and she agreed with the confused sentiment, though there was no going back now, especially since she had just gotten there and still had yet to hand him the papers.

She shrugged again, unsure of how to make it known that she didn't care as much as her presence made it out to seem. "I just...I feel bad."

All at once, Peter seemed to shut down. His expression fell blank and he stared at her, his neutral expression bordering on dismissive, and it was utterly unnerving, what with his typical disposition, though Phoebe was quick to remind herself that she didn't know who he was, but this cold demeanor seemed foreign.

"I don't mean—" she rushed to explain, hating how flustered she had become, "Well, I do, but I don't. I don't feel bad just because of what happened to your uncle so this is me pitying you and thinking that I have to be nice to you because your uncle died, which, I mean, is how I feel, but also you brought me notes when I was sick, so I want to just pay you back."

She could feel her face burning and a dull throbbing in her temples as she tried to calm down from that tirade, but Peter's expression hardly shifted, softening slightly but looking more hurt than anything, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why.

"But it's not even just that," she continued, and she wasn't expecting on being so open with someone she genuinely didn't care much about to begin with, "It's also because I feel guilty for some reason, and I'm not even sure if has all that much to do with you, but maybe it does, and I just feel that I have to keep doing something to pay back for whatever I did and the guilt is eating me up, so hopefully if I can make life easier for you just a little bit, then the feeling will go away and I can keep living life as normal because I can't breathe without thinking that something about this is my fault."

Peter looked at her with wide, confused eyes, and it didn't do much to dissuade Phoebe's burning cheeks and racing heart, but it was much better than the cold stare he had posed to her just moments before.

Finally, he spoke. "I mean, I kind of get why you're trying to fix your guilt by helping out the orphan who just lost his uncle, but I don't get how you think any of this is your fault."

If only he knew, though Phoebe couldn't help but agree with him for the briefest of moments, and the internal voices of Sonny and Gabriel celebrated, though her guilt was more than ready to consume her whole when it regained its power.

Phoebe sighed, looking down at the papers in her hands, wanting nothing more than to just hand them over and be rid of this entire mess, but she had dug herself a massive hole, she had to pull herself out.

"It just is..." she mumbled, "I can't explain it, but it just is, 'cause I messed up and it's all piling up because avoiding was what got me into this mess, and I'm avoiding my responsibilities now, but it's only making things worse, so please just take these notes so I can feel like I'm getting somewhere because I just want to rest, but I can't because I have work to do, and if I stop working worse things will happen and it's as if what already happened didn't teach me anything at all."

She didn't bother raising her head, too tired to try and uninterested in seeing what expression Peter had chosen now, but if she had, she would have seen the intrigue, as well as the discomfort at her words hitting closer to home than she would have ever guessed.

"But what if you just make more of a mess if you keep trying, if it's even your fault that it happened?" he asked, and Phoebe was too tired to try and internalize his question; her face had just stopped burning.

She sighed, moving to sit on his desk chair, not bothering to ask permission, running a hand through her hair. "That's the thing, because I already don't want to keep going, and now that I made a mess I especially don't, because I don't want to face what I did, but I have to make it better somehow, and I'm trying with this, but I'm just avoiding what I actually need to do because it's all too much, but I'm the only person who can actually do what needs to be done, so I have to whether or not I want to, because it's my responsibility."

Peter nodded slowly. "So you have to do it because you have to make things right."

She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose, knowing that she didn't make any sense to the boy; or so she thought. "I don't want the responsibility, but I don't have a say in it, and I hate making mistakes, but a worse mistake is just giving up. So I'm just doing more to make up for what I did wrong."

There was a long silence between them, and if Phoebe closed her eyes and let herself rest, she could pretend that she was simply in her room, continuing to fight against her guilt, but it had significantly quieted since her opening up to Sonny and Peter; when she had explained it to Gabriel, it had been all too specific and she hadn't wanted to tell him the entire truth to protect him, but forcing herself into generalizations, she could say all she wanted, and it was rather therapeutic.

"I get that," Peter finally said, startling her back to reality, and she found him looking at her, looking far more invigorated than when she had stepped inside, "Thanks for that."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he was thanking her for a tirade she herself didn't quite understand, but then he was holding his hand out for her notes and she was standing up from his desk chair and coming to stand at the foot of his bed, and when she finally refocused she found herself watching him going over her notes, flipping through them with mild curiosity.

"I like your handwriting," he commented, looking up at her, and he didn't speak to her the way he usually did, all embarrassed and stammers, he spoke like they were equals, comfortable and casual, and it didn't sound like him at all.

"Thanks," she forced herself to reply, because she didn't know what else to do, "I'm just gonna...go now."

That seemed to flip a switch in Peter, and he suddenly became the person she was used to, stumbling off his bed to walk her out, her papers strewn about his bed, his socked feet slipping slightly on the wood, and he seemed flustered as he moved to open the door for her, having to push in front of her to do so, which garnered him only a raised eyebrow, Phoebe too tired to show even the barest hint of the bemused smile she would have normally given in a situation like this.

"Thank you," he stammered, following after her as she headed towards the door, May trying to salvage whatever she was trying to cook, "For the notes and, uh, the talk, it was really helpful."

"It was?" she asked, unable to help herself, "I didn't think—Well, I'm glad. And good luck studying for the test, he said it would be hard."

Peter gave her a pursed lipped smile—"the white people smile," as Gabriel liked to call it—his lips practically nonexistent, simply nodding at her, pausing as she continued to the door, his hands moving to tug at the hem of his worn hoodie.

Phoebe glanced between the two of them, her stomach turning in anticipation of what she was to say next, unsure of she should even say anything, but after realizing that she couldn't begin to fathom a way she could leave that wouldn't be uncomfortable, she relented.

"I hope things get better," she said, her hand immediately coming up to her neck, "And I'm sorry if people are acting really weird right now, but it's because we all care and we don't know how to show it. Flash Thompson especially doesn't know how. But, um...it was really nice seeing you and thank you for letting me in. Have a good night."

May stepped partly out of the kitchen, just to catch Phoebe's eye. With a soft smile, she said, "Thank you, honey. Are you going to get home okay, is someone picking you up, it's going to get dark soon."

"I'll be fine, my dad got me pepper spray and self defense classes," she said, waving off the woman's concerns, "Have a good weekend."

It took Peter until Phoebe was already heading out the door to regain control of his tongue and throat, croaking out a sharp, "Bye, Phoebe, you too!" just as the door closed, choking on his spit immediately after, coughing and pounding his fist against his chest, ignoring his aunt's soft laughter behind him.

He raised his head to glower at her, but that made her laugh harder, and the embarrassment he felt was no match to the bittersweet joy he felt at finally seeing her laugh after all that had happened, laughing at him rather than for him, and he would have embarrassed himself so much worse in front of Phoebe if it meant his aunt could laugh like that all the time.

But he couldn't do that, so he would do something else.

º º º

Phoebe decided to go to the office and wait for her father, rather than heading directly home, wanting to conserve whatever energy she had to going on her usual rounds. She had also spent the entire ride back thinking over what Sonny had said, and she desperately needed comfortable conversation to give her some reprieve from her thoughts.

When she made it up to the top floor, she found everyone starting to wrap up their work, some already having left early, Sonny tapping his pen against his lips as he looked at his notes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and it had been so long since Phoebe had seen him working hard with that level of ferocity, and it was the kind of familiar that she didn't know she craved until it was back in her life.

Making her way towards him, she hardly spared a glance towards her father who was in a similar state of concentration, running a hand over his upper lip, as if stroking a mustache he had yet to grow, but, with the intuition only a father had, he had glanced up just as Phoebe passed, relaxing slightly when he saw that she was now safe and near him where he could keep her as safe as possible.

Phoebe reached out and squeezed Sonny's right shoulder, running her hand across his back to squeeze his left as she moved to sit down on her usual seat, and the man's gaze followed her movements, sighing and stretching when she leaned back in her chair, scrubbing his face as he turned to face her.

"How was the house call, Sunshine?" he asked, tilting his head, and Phoebe just stared at him, taking in his blond hair and pretty smile, always different yet so familiar, just like Sonny himself.

She sighed, shrugging as she leaned farther back in her seat. "It's done now. I don't really think it made me feel better, though. But I'm doing better in general."

She looked into his eyes at the end, wanting him to know what she meant but not knowing how to say it, hoping that he would understand, and it was a wonder why she even feared he wouldn't, because this was Sonny, and he understood her when she didn't even understand herself; they were connected.

"Just cut yourself some slack, Sunny," he said, reaching out to tap her chin, pausing for a few moments just to smile at her, holding her gaze.

Phoebe felt her cheeks warm and looked down at her hands when she couldn't stand it anymore, hoping that Sonny wouldn't notice nor bring it up, but when she looked up, instead of a teasing smile, the reporter was already back at his work, and she didn't know whether that relieved her or hurt her.

With nothing else to do, she reached into her own backpack and pulled out her homework. It was the weekend, so there wasn't much reason to start then, but considering that she hadn't gone out on her rounds in some time, it would be good to get as much done as possible, if only to make sure that she would have the time.

She was done making excuses for the destruction brought upon herself and the city, she needed to get back to work.

Phoebe was often too aware of her surroundings to completely lock in to doing her work, brought out of focus if any of her senses were triggered, but there were brief pockets of time where she wouldn't know how much time had passed and, when she was finally forced back into the constructs of the constant living, she would have to scramble to realign herself.

Somehow, she hadn't noticed the various people filing out of the room, adjusting to the lack of computer fans and human shuffling as they disappeared, unaware of the movement and heat passing by, and it was only when she heard her father's voice that she snapped back to reality, Sonny raising his head as well.

"It's the weekend, Hewitt, go home," Jameson called, stepping towards the elevator, jerking his head to signal that he and Phoebe were doing the same, "You'll see us tomorrow."

"You got it, Boss Man," Sonny sighed, moving to save and turn off his computer, and Phoebe couldn't help but think about what she had to do that night, worrying on her bottom lip.

She began to pack up, trying to match her rhythm with Sonny who was surprised to find the two of them waiting, the man glancing between the girl and her father, as if trying to understand if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to, even though he was going through his usual routine.

"You two could've just left without me, I know you've got your family video calls with the brother," Sonny said, grabbing his bag and walking towards the elevator, Phoebe right at his heel.

Jameson bristled slightly at the mention of his son being Phoebe's brother, but he forced himself to relax, sharing a nod with the blond; he had made Sonny sign a non-disclosure agreement, but reporters liked to talk, and he couldn't always trust them to stick to their morals, but considering that the Daily Globe had yet to release a breaking news scandal, it seemed Sonny was still in the clear.

"John can wait," Phoebe said, moving to step into the elevator, "Besides, he's finishing up there soon since his mission is supposed to end just after New Year's, it's very exciting."

Jameson nodded in agreement, the one most excited out of the pair for the return of his son; he was the child he had actually raised, their bond was more than anything he and Phoebe had, at least not yet.

"Let's hope something exciting happens sooner than that, Sunny, we could use something newsworthy this weekend to tide us over," Sonny said, nudging her arm with his wrist, sharing a look with his boss over her head.

Phoebe didn't know how to react, acutely aware of her father watching them carefully, keeping her from pouting up at him the way she wanted, so she just looked up at him and rolled her eyes, which didn't change Sonny's usual reaction; a bright, sparkling smile.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Sonny's wish would come true, as, that night, Spider-Man returned to the streets. And, while no one else would know, as did Phoebe.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 07.19.17 ; 01.23.21 )

(I love how I had this written for over a year but just never published it because I disappeared off the face of the earth, but it's here now!)

Hey, everyone! Long time, no see, sorry about that, it took a while for me to get into the groove of college enough to feel like I could actually write on Wattpad again, but now I'm here and ready to keep going, so here's a long overdue update!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!