another long one!

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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Homecoming Queen

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

𝟐𝟐 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

☆

         Homecoming. When Lizzie was younger (a.k.a. five years ago), she'd religiously watched High School Musical enough times to have high expectations for school dances, down to the dramatic exits of the two main characters because one was heartbroken—she ate all of it up. Midtown was not the letdown, more-so life itself being nothing like Troy and Gabriella's love story...but the dances also sucked. Even in spite of learning that the theme was a Decades Dance, she was excited to spend the night dancing with her girlfriend. Lizzie didn't have a girlfriend anymore. She was not excited anymore either. Ten-year-old Lizzie might have been counting down the days until this moment, but fifteen-year-old Lizzie was counting excuses not to go at all.

At least until Lizzie got a sudden urge to spite the world and prove that she can have teenage experience, and she wouldn't stop trying until it happened. So she decided she was going to bring a date. Screw C.T. and her plans. Screw Troy and Gabriella. Lizzie Carter would not allow the miseries of the year take another moment away from her younger self. The only problem, however, was that Homecoming was on Friday.

It was Thursday.

Up to third period, Lizzie had absolutely no plan besides blatantly asking. During lunch, she hunched together with her best friends and conspired a plan which involved a lot of irrelevant opinions from the boys (only Taylor helped), save for Art handing over the keys to the art supply closet. By fifth period, Lizzie had swooned Ms. Silvester into letting her leave History class early to finish up a project in the lab after rushing through the assignment on World War I.

Now, she sat in the hallway of Midtown with colored paper and pens scattered around her and a (small) crime that might get her expelled hiding underneath her backpack. A few teachers had stopped only for her to hold up her hall pass with a smile, then return back to her crafts project. Her wire headphones had been a bit of an obstacle to avoid, but she managed considering her AirPods were dead. What she hadn't known was that fate—for once—decided to be on her side, and honestly? Peter Parker's, too.

Peter stopped on his way to the bathroom when he saw her sitting in the hallway, and he turned around in the same beat to the head for the other side of the school. Before he could take a step, realization hit that he was being an idiot and couldn't avoid her forever. The last two days had been spent repairing the holes Spider-Man made in his life, and the one that kept the entire boat from sinking (maybe too soon for that metaphor) hadn't been considered yet. Turning around again, Peter returned back to the direction where she sat.

Her hair was pulled up into a tight but messy bun, certain locks falling awkwardly because of how short she cut it over the summer. Peter wondered what it would look like bright red, the same shade as when fought in Berlin, but he quickly reserved those thoughts to the past because he was done now. Lizzie had been done. Wearing a black Midtown hoodie and a pair of light-wash jeans, Peter remembered then that he had not returned the hoodie she lent him. Aunt May washed it, only raising a suggestive brow when she noticed the 'CARTER' and '3' on the back.

Lizzie must have heard his footsteps. Peter got caught up in watching her, only because he could see the smallest of movements indicating to him that she wasn't as attentive to her own space as others may think. The hand using a yellow highlighter stopped. Most people would be deceived by the headphones, but he could barely hear the music through them. But what he'd come to really notice, was that she tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the right. Finally, curiosity got the better of her when he slowed down, and brown eyes met their match as she raised her chin up just enough. To his surprise, she didn't look angered or even remotely upset with him.

Lizzie Carter might have actually smiled at him.

"Hey, Parker," she greeted him, adjusting her limbs again when she felt the tingling sensation start. "Trying to run away from geometry?"

Peter felt offended by that. "I love geometry...no, just—uh, just going to the bathroom. What're you doing? Trying to run away from Spanish?"

"Ah...Я снова побил тебя," she answered, catching him entirely off-guard.

Russian dialect didn't sound great on her tongue, and it was chopped and disgraceful, but Peter couldn't tell the difference between that. Clearly, not Spanish: I beat you again. Lizzie had to translate the words and mentally picture them on paper in order to say them aloud, one of the many things necessary when speaking another language. Natasha taught her that when she began her and Wanda's lessons, although the latter of them was significantly better considering she already knew two languages fluently verses Lizzie's one and a half at the time.

Peter ignored the boyish inclination to find her speaking Russian attractive, instead choosing to note the obvious. "That wasn't Spanish."

"Qué?" she asked in feigned surprise, eyes lighting up mischievously. "I never knew. This whole time...I finished up my assignment early. I'm currently planning something. Are you going to the dance tomorrow?"

Peter pursed his lips to the side, glancing down at his feet. "Ah...I don't know—"

"I didn't tell you this, but Taylor scouted every breathing soul in Midtown to find me a date...a certain someone you might know still doesn't have one. Do with that what you will."

The information had his neck launching up, brown eyes widening as he looked at Lizzie in shock. "What? Are you serious? She—what, how? I mean—wait. Why don't you have a date? I thought you would be going with C.T."

Lizzie couldn't even be mad at him for bringing the topic up, but that didn't make it any less easier to hear another person say her name. Peter didn't know. Lizzie hoped this was one of those things that got around between mutual friends of theirs, only so she didn't have to force out the words herself.

"We actually broke up...so...I am also date-less," she glanced down at the ground in front of her to avoid his reaction, clearing her throat in the process. Lizzie jumped ahead of him before he could muster any response. "Don't ask, Peter. You know the answer already, and it won't make you any less guilty if we say it out loud. It's not your fault."

"It feels like my fault."

Lizzie shook her head, meeting his eyes again. "Not your fault."

"But—"

"Peter."

"I'm sorry, MJ."

"I know you are," she answered softly. "I accept your apology. But it's still not your fault."

Peter and her may have had longer eye contact than they ever had before, and eventually, he had to avert his eyes off her. The ground looked like a safe escape, and he clutched the clipboard in his hands tightly. The Peter-Parker from last year never would have expected to be having a conversation with the Lizzie-Carter from last year. He tapped the clipboard in his hand as he considered taking the short pause as his getaway—but something bugged him. The way Lizzie's personality had taken a complete turn in the last few days.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Can't appreciate a good thing?" she asked him, and he looked up again with a flush to his neck. Lizzie's lips fell a little. "I'm not going to beat you when you're already down, Peter. I'm not...I've been trying to tell you this whole time that I'm not some evil, two-faced criminal. I'm not the bad guy."

"I know that," he quickly replied. Then he added to it when he saw her expression turn doubtful. "Now."

"Okay. So...we leave it at plant partners."

"Okay. Plant partners."

"You'll tell Ned to leave it at that, too?"

Peter looked truly sorry that time, and his shoulders fell. "Yes. I promise."

There was an affirmative end to their conversation, and so Peter had the awkward position of being the one to leave since she wasn't moving anytime soon. Lizzie must have noticed the hesitancy because she sent him a grin and grabbed her highlighter again, going back to working on her project. When Peter left, Lizzie couldn't say she was too surprised to see Liz Allen appear minutes later.

Like a usual exchange, Liz noticed the headphones and took that as the silent agreement not to bother Lizzie. What felt like a moment destined solely for the amusement of one-Lizzie Carter, she watched Peter come out of the men's bathroom down the hall and double take at the sight ahead of them. Liz clocked him, and a smile set on her face slightly bigger than the one she sent Lizzie—not that Lizzie noticed, as the two of them stopped in front of each other, inches away from where she was failing at arts and crafts.

"Hey..."

"Hey."

Peter could feel Lizzie's eyes on him, flustered under the pressure of knowing what she said about Liz not having a date to Homecoming. "I thought you had calculus fifth period."

Don't sound like a stalker, Parker, Lizzie winced.

"Yeah. I was just doing some homework..."

Peter couldn't take the eyes burning into his head, practically screaming at him every time he opened his mouth. So he decided to slowly walk closer to the trophy case in the hallway, further away from where Lizzie sat so that she couldn't hear their conversation any longer. Lizzie's face twisted into a scowl because she knew what he was doing. Buzzkill. Not long after did she get to see the nonverbal cues of Parker, including but not limited to: aggressive hand gestures, uncomfortable pauses, clear redness appearing on his neck and cheeks, but most of all, a very large smile.

"I'm actually going that way..." and Peter was going back in the direction of where Lizzie sat, the conversation between himself and Liz over just like that. His current wing-woman and ex-plant-mother gestured her arms with wide, eager eyes to silently ask whether or not he asked her. When a panicked, but ecstatic grin overtook his body, he nodded in her direction. A breech of humanity shined through the teenage girl again as her face broke out into a smile at the news. Neither of them said anything, Lizzie clearing her throat and ducking her head when she saw Liz start turning around in their direction.

Maybe fate was on their side today.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

"Heeey, MJ..."

"...hey, MJ."

The greeting was exchanged just before their sixth period (the last period of her day), study hall. The library was considerably empty, everyone doing their own thing while the teachers yawned and downed their last coffee of the day. Lizzie had study hall first period last year, and if she had to choose between the two, she would choose her schedule this year any-day. Michelle Jones sat in the same seat at the same table every day, usually wearing the same glare when a classmate raised their voice one-too-many times.

No more words were exchanged when she sat her finished project in front of her for approval. Michelle narrowed her eyes down at the book, obviously checked out from the school's library they were in considering the sticker that was halfway peeled off. Then she opened it where the bookmark was placed. That was when she saw the bookmark, with a handwritten bullet-list explaining what the novel was. At the top, was the date: 1928. Underneath, Michelle read that it was the first LGBTQ+ book to feature a lesbian couple. Chapter Thirty-Seven was the chosen page, and Michelle knew immediately which part she was supposed to read because it was highlighted in yellow sharpie.

''All my life I've been waiting for something...' Mary had said that, she had said: 'All my' life I've been waiting for something...I've been waiting for you.'' Followed with a sticky-note underneath that read: '..to go to Homecoming with me?'Michelle couldn't help the smile taking over her face as she connected the dots to what was happening, and she looked up through her lashes to raise her brows at Lizzie Carter.

"You do realize it's tomorrow, right?" Michelle reminded her, knowing that it was entirely likely the teenage girl thought the event was next month and not tomorrow night. "Not in two weeks?"

Lizzie ignored the chide to her most recent brain fog  and continued smiling at her, leaning down. "C'mon, MJ. All my life I've been waiting for you to be my date to this stupid thing. There's no one else I'd rather go to a homophobic decades dance with than you."

"That's so sweet." Michelle shook her head, still smiling and slugged deeper into her chair. "Fine. I guess I'll go with you. Only because you committed a crime for me."

"Maybe I slid the librarian a ten for it."

"Still a crime. Did you?"

"No. So, I don't recommend reading on school grounds, and you might want to be subtle when you leave..." Lizzie was only half joking when she said it, and she sat down in her seat next to Michelle. "So, do you have a dress? I can coordinate around you. Taylor and Eli are going together, and we're getting ready together at my house. I know it's last minute—"

"I'll probably get ready at my house. Not anything against you and Taylor...do your thing with her, and then when you pick me up I can apologize for my Ma wanting a million pictures. Do you have anything black?"

"I can find something. I can totally find something, no worries. Most of my closet is that color," Lizzie grinned at her, all but bouncing in her seat as all of the usual hiccups of a late-notice were being dismissed. "You're the best, you know that, right?"

"I know. Just stop looking at me like you're in love with me."

Lizzie couldn't help it. "Maybe I am."

"Ouch, a rebound?" Michelle joked without any malice, only to wince when she noticed her words held the reminder of the fresh wound neither of them had talked about. Having Taylor, Casey, and Michelle there to hear her get dumped wasn't any fonder a memory than Ned having a bomb in his backpack. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that...thank you for asking me, MJ. This...it was sweet. I'm excited to go with you."

A large reason why Lizzie and Peter both managed to get away with what happened to them in D.C. with minor consequences was because Michelle covered for Lizzie, which allowed Lizzie to cover for herself and Peter. What happened more than that, Michelle could ask as many questions as she wanted to about the situation but she chose not to and Lizzie knew that was for the sake of her. Michelle truly was an incredibly person, and anyone would be stupid not to see that.

"You've been there for me in more ways than I can count. There's no one else I'd rather go with."

Lizzie hoped that Michelle could see how truthfully she meant those words.

"Can we bail if it's too lame?"

"Do you need to ask?"

Peter and Lizzie: 1
Life: 0

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐘
𝟐3 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

"Taylor...Taylor, if you don't get out of the way, I'm literally going to hit that mascara into your eye and you can't blame me when I blind you—"

"—you're taking up the whole dresser!"

"Oh, you mean my dresser!"

"It's been half mine for half our lives!"

Taylor scowled at her best friend before she dropped the mascara wand, observing Lizzie as she stepped over more into the mirror. She watched her apply black eyeliner to her waterline, and a small wing to the tops that echoed how Taylor did her own. A smile had unknowingly shadowed on Taylor's face as she watched her, noticing just how pretty her best friend was and how much she had grown. They had grown—in all their years together—and she was grateful that, in everyone else's absence, they always had each other.

"You look pretty," Taylor said softly.

Lizzie paused in the mirror, looking at Taylor through her reflection, and her hand fell to her side. She turned to fully face her best friend, grabbing a hold of her arms and tugging her closer.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Lizzie muttered, searching into her eyes for any indication that Taylor might have doubts. She purses her lips tightly together, trying to word her next thoughts correctly. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Hey, you won't have to. I'll be there to dance with you all night when Eli and Michelle both realize we suck."

Lizzie's lip jutted out, eyes rounding in a way that made her best friend's heart hurt. "Do you think she's going to be there?"

"Probably. Heard her talking about a green dress. It's a good color, you know. For jealousy," Taylor coughed out the insult like it wasn't one, so subtle in doing so that Lizzie didn't have the heart to defend C.T. against it. The notion of her wearing green felt like a round of spite against Lizzie. Ouch. "Not that it matters. We don't care what she does. Right?"

Wrong, she thought pitifully.

"Right."

"I need your help getting this strapless bra on. It's one of those sticky-boob things. Are you going to be turned on if I accidentally flash you?"

Lizzie could tell that Taylor was joking, emphasizing a point that she had heard more-often since she and C.T. started publicly dating. While her sexuality was never a secret, she hated being roped into the stereotype behind softball players—more-so, the stereotypes that came with being bisexual. Most of their teammates couldn't care less, but Taylor had told Lizzie before that one of the graduating-seniors from last year stopped changing around them. Solely because she thought Lizzie cared enough to look.

"I've already seen them a million times."

"Only because I was so excited to show you when I finally got them," Taylor shrugged, then she moved over to Lizzie's bed and grabbed her phone. They had an hour and a half before the dance started. Taylor would be driving all four of them to Midtown, so they still needed to pick up Eli and MJ, and take pictures. "Can I ask a question that I don't want you to think too much into?"

"You never ask a question that doesn't have a reason," Lizzie pointed out suspiciously, raising a brow at her as she crossed the room, pulling her tank-top off in the process to start changing. "If it's about me being dumped—"

"No, ergo 'don't-read-into-this.' What's the deal with you and Parker?"

Lizzie expected that question. Be honest with her.

"He's...it's complicated," she frowned, stopping in her place and rocking on her heels as an explanation started writing itself in her head. Taylor waited for a better one, but Lizzie appreciated how open she was to what little Lizzie always gave her. She was like Michelle in that way. "Peter got wrapped up in his Stark Internship. He...idolized him, and I don't think he's ever had something like that happen before. But I had Sharon. So, I know what that's like. Remember how he was dropping out of everything and Art was having a conniption fit over the robotics stuff? Yeah, well...Peter's an idiot and was trying to impress Stark. The night of Liz's party, I ran into him and he was telling me about this extra credit work he was doing off the clock...and I had to help. He's just...I don't know, Lory."

Taylor listened to her, a dip in her mouth appearing at the childhood nickname shared between them. Both had incredibly basic names with overly-used nicknames, save for MJ, and they'd been determined to the alternative for Taylor like Lizzie had. Respectively, Lory was chosen for her, but Lizzie hadn't called her that in years.

"Have you heard from Sharon?" Taylor asked quietly, picking at the fabric of her shorts. Their outfits were hung up on the closet door after Sophia spent an hour steaming the wrinkles out of them. Lizzie's only answer was silence, then a short shake of her head. "I get it, about Parker. He's like a sad puppy...and you couldn't tell this to C.T. because she already thought you were being sus...and you couldn't tell her you weren't just with Casey in D.C. that morning, but with Parker, too because it wouldn't have mattered."

"Mhm."

"That's so stupid. Not you, but the situation...you try to help out your friend and can't even be honest about it because she won't believe you're not cheating on her? That's not on you," Taylor said, firm in her point as she shook her head, growing angrier about C.T. the more she talked. Then, she paused and looked over at Lizzie, noticing how quiet she had become. "You've got such a big heart, but you don't have to save everyone, MJ. You can't save everyone. I understand you care about Parker, and I'm not saying he doesn't deserve to have you in his life because you get to make that choice—but I am saying, don't let his shit become your shit. 'Cause you already have enough shit going on."

"I know. He's...he's doing better."

"Good. I just worry about you...and I need some room for you to selfishly help me handle my own shit, too."

The added sentence reminded Lizzie that they had not been spending as much time together, save for practice and class, neither of which allowed for them to really talk about anything other than superficial conversation. Taylor had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, had been her teammate even longer, and that relationship was something she took advantage of. When she lived in D.C. those four months, not seeing her everyday had been difficult—but what it showed them was that, despite everything, they always moved in the same wavelength. Recently, they were going in what felt like different directions.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you recently."

"You were never not there. I knew that," Taylor assured her.

Lizzie didn't feel like that was enough. "No, you...I should've listened to you about C.T. and us getting together so fast. I shouldn't have been so upset when you said something. I just..."

"You love her. That's okay."

"Ouch."

"Sorry," Taylor winced sympathetically, patting her knee. "Have you admitted that to yourself yet?"

"No, haven't gotten that far into therapy yet."

Taylor huffed out a sigh and threw herself back on Lizzie's bed. "You know, I think me and Therapist Gracie need to have a conversation."

"Yeah, okay. That sounds like a great tea party idea, right after I jump out my window."

"See, exactly. I feel like that's something to discuss—"

Taylor and Lizzie coexisted around each other as they continued getting ready, only having one minor hiccup when the sticky-bra almost didn't stick. Bad advertising, but the two girls could appreciate the finished project in a million Snapchat pictures taken by Taylor for ten minutes. The older of the two girls wore a light blue dress, stating it would match Eli's eyes, and her hair braided in two sides by Lizzie that she pulled up into a bun. Lizzie had gone significantly less colorful, wearing a black sleeveless jumpsuit and hair curled around her shoulders, but it was the only thing she had in her closet that fit her and wasn't Sharon's hand-me-downs. She couldn't do that tonight. Ma gave her a pair of her own small hoops to stick into her second piercings, which led to her crying at her mother's insistence on pushing them through the closed holes. But Sophia and Mike Carter both made sure they were home to see her before she left.

Just before going to meet them in the living room, Lizzie searched for something hidden in a place that will never be written or spoken aloud. Next to a phone was a letter and the watch given to her by Tony, and she grabbed a hold of them both. The blue ink had faded on the paper and there were smudges from her old tears, but she could make out every word. Not that she needed to, having the entire thing memorized by now, but still. The comfort she got in the last line, just before she went to her sophomore Homecoming Dance, was what she had been hoping for.

Go to dances for me.

Lizzie put the letter back in its place, not willing to dwell on the negatives and have a full Mrs.Puff-Mascara-Crying moment at the thought of Steve Rogers not being here to take pictures with her, too. Before she left her room, she took a final look at herself in the mirror. After tucking her hair behind her ears, she finally paid attention to the watch in her hand. The only gift she had of Tony, the piece of the Blindspot Project that hadn't been shipped back to the New Avengers Facility, and tonight, it was to ease her own anxiety. Without questioning why, she moved to snap the black band in place, grateful Tony hijacked Apple's idea and made it look presentable.

The person staring back at her didn't look like a spy. Just a teenage girl going to a dance—and Lizzie thought, for the first time in a while, that she looked pretty. She felt pretty. But most importantly and more gut wrenchingly, Lizzie noticed for the first time in a while that she looked just like Sharon did at sixteen. Underneath the facade, Lizzie couldn't hide who she was anymore than she could pretend her life was normal. Sharon should be here. Not hiding from the government, not running in fear, not here. Her hands searched underneath the fabric of her jumpsuit for the metal chain, finding solace again in its safety near her heart.

"I miss you guys," she muttered quietly under her breath, to nothing but her own agony.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

"Breathe in, people. You can almost smell the marijuana."

"That's just Louie."

"Who's Louie?" Lizzie asked in confusion, only to have Michelle point in the direction of a boy near the bleachers holding some kind of pen with smoke coming out of it. "M'kay. He seems nice."

For what it was worth, the dance wasn't as bad as any of them were expecting. Considering the fact that the Homecoming Committee (likely all because of Liz) actually coordinated colors this year, choosing Lizzie's favorite color just to get on her good side. When they picked up Michelle, Lizzie got to see her mother and grin through every picture—MJ looked beautiful in a yellow dress, and when Lizzie handed her a corsage with a smug grin, the teenage girl couldn't help but appreciate the effort her friend put into things. Taylor was the most excited of the four. From the moment she got into the car and started driving to Eli's, her hands had been buzzing with electricity and nonstop movement. Lizzie almost considered having her go meet Louie, but Eli sufficed as something similar when he took Taylor's hand and eased all of her worries.

That (while she was ashamed to admit it) made Lizzie slightly jealous and bitter, suddenly hit with that little grey cloud she'd rightly chosen to name after her ex-girlfriend. The Devil only needed to be thought of, because Lizzie sucked in a sharp breath when she finally noticed C.T. Clemins standing in a group of juniors, some on their team and some on the volleyball team. What made her jaw clench tightly, though, was the green dress that Taylor had briefly mentioned. Seeing it now instead of hearing about it from Taylor, Lizzie now knew she absolutely wore it to spite her.

Because Lizzie was suffering now.

"You're staring," Michelle muttered to her, and an empathetic look was shared between them when Lizzie finally forced herself to glance elsewhere. "I'm sorry, MJ."

"This fucking blows, dude. Tens times worse than Troy and Gabriella."

"Don't look now, but she's looking at you."

The sentence basically asked her to do the opposite, and reverse-psychology worked its magic. Lizzie couldn't help but turn her head back in the direction where C.T. was, and the pair of eyes she'd been desperate to find in every room nowadays finally found her too. A sharp inhale was forced through her lungs, but she couldn't seem to figure out how to exhale, so she just held it. Lizzie told herself she would be the one to look away first, but that turned into a difficult mission when C.T.'s eyes started to lower.

Oh, she was fucking not—

"I hate her," Lizzie said to herself as a scowl started to make way onto her face, and half to the one-woman audience of Michelle, who was starting to smile. "She broke up with me. She thinks I'm a cheater, and she wants to try and check me out right now?"

"You look very pretty tonight."

The compliment made her heart swell, and turns out Lizzie did turn away first. She turned to look at Michelle apologetically, realizing what she had just inadvertently done. "So do you. You look beautiful in yellow—I'm sorry. I'm totally making you feel like a rebound. I'm here with you and—"

"MJ, calm down. You need to stop apologizing so much," Michelle said, not out of rudeness, but in all honesty as she watched Lizzie begin worrying about upsetting her over nothing. "We can always ignore her. She's not bothering me."

"She's bothering me."

"You're letting her bother you."

Lizzie frowned against her will. "I can't help it."

"Yeah, I know that, too." Michelle nodded, pulling her mouth to one side. Then she glanced over Lizzie's head, their height difference proving an advantage once again, because Michelle noticed another one of their friends entering. "Hey, Art just came in. He's with some blonde girl and Ned."

Lizzie turned around at the mentioned names, and she couldn't help but smile when she noticed the way Arthur was grinning from ear-to-ear as he hugged Ned. Teagen and him were in a matching velvet, his tie matching her dress perfectly, and even she appeared happier. Lizzie didn't talk to her much, and finding out she'd been dating a girl wasn't the biggest surprise, but the invitation of her into Art's life made Lizzie worry less. He had a friend, someone who understood him. Michelle and her walked over to the gathering group of their friends, meeting up once again with Taylor and Eli. A silent, but loud conversation was had between the two best friends when Lizzie caught Taylor's eye. Nothing more was done, and that meant Taylor had also caught sight of C.T. already.

The dance started filling out with more people than she expected to be here, but she'd been anticipating the arrival of two specific people. Lizzie never asked Ned, even though she was curious, only because she knew that would prompt some looks from their friends. Another twenty minutes went by before Liz Allen finally walked in wearing a pink dress, pretty as ever, and already holding a line of people waiting to talk to her.

"You know what, good for Peter," Taylor praised the boy as she watched Liz greet everyone, everyone clearly noticing how beautiful she looked tonight. "I admire the guy."

The compliment of Peter made Lizzie happy to hear, and Ned must have felt the same because he grinned happily to himself. What he didn't ask, though, and Lizzie was: where was Peter?

When he finally arrived three minutes after Liz, and Lizzie got a look of him for the first time that night, all of the color drained from her face. Maybe in response to his own ghostly-appearance, even under the dark hue of the gymnasium lights. Something was wrong. The rest of their friends remained oblivious to the problem, Michelle throwing a middle finger to the teenage boy for good measure, but Art had not been so distracted he missed the exchange. He noticed the way Peter looked for one pair of eyes the second he got inside, and they were not Liz Allen's.

"Hey, guys," Lizzie called to their group with a hesitant smile, remaining casual and calm as they all turned to face her. Art knew better now, seeing the underlying worry creasing her brows together. "I'm going to go talk to Peter for a sec. He and I are supposed to meet up sometime this weekend so he can give me Padme."

Eli sucked in a breath. "Ooo, yikes. The parents are fighting."

"Divorce is hard," Michelle added, then she nodded once at Lizzie before the girl could even ask if it was okay to leave. "I'm going to go hide on the bleachers and read for a little anyway. I got a new book, remember? Tell Parker he looks like he's constipated."

"That was already on my 'to-do' list. You're the best."

Taylor scoffed, eyeing Michelle with a wink. "She told me that earlier, too."

"Really? She told me that last week—"

Arthur was the last to interject in the growing debate over who Lizzie's favorite was, but all of them were cut short by Lizzie throwing a middle finger up at them, replicating Michelle's gesture with a grin. Only her and Art shared a brief exchange of glances. Then, she turned around and tried to locate where Peter had gone in the last minute, only for her arm to be grabbed and then she was off through the dance-floor. Had she not recognized who it was, Lizzie may have protested when she noticed how the situation might appear to people—specifically his date and her friend, Liz, who stared after them like she was stealing Peter away.

How does this keep happening to her? Instantly, the thought of wearing a scarlet cloth with the letter 'A' on her chest crossed her mind. Michelle would enjoy that one.

"Peter," she hissed out, skipping a step so that he could hear her over the music. Once they got through the gymnasium doors and into the hallway, he finally let go of her and started to pull off his tie immediately. Her eyes widened as his jacket came next, trying to figure out where exactly his mind was at. When his actions became too fast to keep up with, Lizzie was the one to stop him in his tracks. Gripping his arm, she resisted him when he lurched against her to keep moving. "Peter—what the hell is going on?!"

"This is so bad, MJ!" he panicked, gripping his hair tightly in his hands with eyes so wide she worried they would fall out of his skull. "This whole time, I had no idea—and now, he knows—"

"Who?!"

"Liz's dad!"

Lizzie couldn't find the connection between one and two, her shoulders deflating as she questioned whether he was having a teenager-crisis or a life-and-death crisis. "Peter, what are you talking about? He knows what? That you like her? It's pretty freaking obvious—"

"No!" Peter stopped her before she could keep going, frustrated and groaning that she wasn't putting two-and-two together. One look at her arm still holding him back, and he decided to finally gauge their strengths. So he started forward again, and he pulled her along with him. "Evil Bird Man who tried to kill us, Lizzie! We don't have time for this! He knows who I am now, and we've got to stop him!"

She stopped pulling against him, letting her sandals glide along the tile floor like they were children as he kept his stride going. "Oh, my God."

"Now, you get it?!"

"God, we have horrible luck."

That made him stop in his tracks, and she stumbled. "We?"

"You literally just dragged me out of the dance, Peter!"

"He's trying to kill me!"

"Well—!" Lizzie stopped, knowing he had a point. "Fine. Okay. Do you have stuff in the school? I have my watch on me, the one Stark programmed—"

Peter didn't say anything, instead he moved to the lockers where they'd stopped and pulled the entire section up from the ground. Lizzie stared, baffled, as the small space was exposed to show an entire slew of supplies. Likely for his web-gear which had been previously stocked in the lab. He grabbed a handful of things, and he let it drop, glancing behind them before he handed half of it to her.

Then, he started to take the rest of his suit off, and Lizzie inadvertently found herself looking at the assortment of items he'd placed in her care. One of them was oozing web fluid, and she resisted the urge to gag at how much it reminded her of actual spiders. The thing was—Natasha had an arachnid title as well, but she didn't find it necessary to take the name literally and incorporate disgusting substances like spider-webs into her arsenal. The widow bites did their trick just fine without needing to be gross.

"This is actually disgusting," she couldn't help it as she stared down at it, her lip curling up as she tilted her head back to make sure none of it got on her. When she heard him snicker, she glared fiercely at Parker regardless of if he was half-naked or not. His shirtless body be damned against being made fun of. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. I just...I think you might have a spider in your—"

Lizzie considered the possibility of being a terrible mother when she flung the items out of her hand like they were worthless, a hand reaching to her hair to comb through it viciously. "Peter, I swear to God—"

"I'm kidding! You didn't need to throw my things! We need them!"

As he bent down to collect his things, she realized he'd gotten the entire get-up on. Lizzie chose that word specifically, because she was trying so hard not to laugh and call it a home-made costume. The attempt was there, and that was not something she could laugh at. Only pity, but she found the sight endearing as he scraped together his belongings off the tile floor. However sad of a sight Peter may be, she still might kill him.

"Next time you do that, I will kill you—"

"Oh, whatever. Hey, does that watch change your hair color?"

The question confused her. "Yes. Why?"

"Just...maybe you should, hide your identity...'cause, you know...the bad guys..."

"Are you worried about my identity being outed, Parker?" she asked him pointedly, and he knew by that point they would never live in a world where Lizzie Carter didn't bring up him telling Ned about her. As she spoke, she glanced down at her wrist. Peter watched in curiosity as the screen lit up, and then it projected out like a hologram. The functions were all different, and he could tell she'd not touched the device much seeing as she didn't operate it with comfort.

He stayed quiet and watched as she pressed the first function key on the system pre-set. Suddenly, there was an electromagnetic shield pushed out of the watch that Peter assumed Lizzie couldn't even see herself. Until finally, it reached to her hair, glitching only momentarily until it was the same bright red from the day Spider-Man and Blindspot were first introduced in Berlin.

"Whoa..." he said, impressed at the technology. Part of him wanted to ask if she would let him see it one day, just to mess around with all of the functions. She'd rip his hand off. "That's..."

Then Peter finally noticed how pretty Lizzie Carter looked tonight, remembered they were at their high-school's Homecoming dance, and he had just dragged her away from it to help him stop the father of their classmate, who was also Peter's date and longtime crush—but there was something he couldn't explain in the difference between how his heart raced when he looked at Liz Allen that night, and how he looked at Lizzie Carter now. Her hair was curled, the red making everything more vibrant, and the silver earrings in her ears seemed to reflect off the glitter on her eyes. Pretty.

"You look really pretty tonight, MJ."

Somehow, Peter's compliment felt different than the others spoken to her that night. Lizzie was not entirely herself, and yet, there were not many in the world who knew as much about her as Peter Parker did and still said that about her. "Thank you, Peter...you looked nice until you put on the other suit...sorry, I wasn't going to say anything. It was an easy shot."

The way she couldn't handle the compliment made his lip turn up, momentarily forgetting that they were in a crisis-moment and the seconds mattered. "I gave back Mister Stark's suit."

"Hey, same!"

Lizzie nudged his elbow with a growing grin like her comment was the funniest thing in the world, and he rolled his eyes at the reminder of her dislike for Tony Stark but couldn't help the flat joke. However, she couldn't be too upset with him if she wore the watch tonight. He'd pulled on the mask much to her amusement when she saw the new-suit in its full effect. As they moved to the back of the school, deciding that they would not be swinging to any location—Lizzie even promising him she would rather steal the first car she saw than do so—which was a short-ended conversation when they finally got outside.

Peter heard the footsteps before Lizzie did, pushing her to the side just as a bright, familiar weaponized lightbeam struck him down after a direct blow to the face. The first thing they heard was the sound of another man's voice. "He gave you a choice. You chose wrong."

"Ah...what the hell?"

"Who the hell is he?!" Lizzie hissed out as she bent down to rip Peter back up to his feet, pointing at the guy with wide eyes. Quiet enough that the bad guy couldn't hear, her concern ripped into Peter's chest when she revealed the obvious to him. "I don't have any weapons, Peter! I've gotta get close to him."

"I dropped my web-shooters," he said to her, his mask obscuring his vision of seeing her entirely.

She cursed internally. "Just distract him. I need to get behind him."

"Hey, you two done talking?" the man looked between them, confused as all hell. "What's with the crappy costume?"

Peter and Lizzie shared a look, and that was their cue to go. Peter went in the direction of his web-shooters across the bus lot while Lizzie stayed put, waiting until she was sure the man followed after Peter to maneuver behind the yellow buses from hell. Only, two seconds later, one of the evil yellow buses was actually sent round-and-round, and Lizzie had to hold her hand to her mouth to shut herself up when Peter was sent into the bus. The urge to shout his name wouldn't have helped anything, and so she kicked off her sandals, ignoring the feel of the scattered rocks stabbing her skin. They had still not fully healed from Liz's party. Irony.

In front of her, stalking toward Peter, and entirely oblivious, was a man too cocky for his own good and Lizzie didn't appreciate that. "I wasn't sure about this thing at first, but damn..."

Lizzie Carter knocked the man in the back of his knees, sending him forward. That gave Peter the time he needed to get back to his feet, but the certified Bad Guy got back up too quick. Lizzie shifted back when his arm went out to hit her with the gun, ducking her head low to avoid getting it knocked off when he returned again. She went for the arm holding the gun, minding its aim, but the man used his strength to the advantage, pulling her to his chest so he could headbutt her. Lizzie groaned, now very pissed off, and her elbow snuck out of the grip to hit him square in the ear. Blow out the eardrum.

"Little help whenever, please!" she shouted to her partner.

"Coming!" Peter was heard, and they watched as the man stumbled back, holding onto his ear. That was when he looked up again, and fired the gun in their direction without any warning. Lizzie was sent rolling across the pavement, Peter ending up a few feet away after his back hit the side of the bus. A groan escaped both of their mouths, fully-shaken up by that last hit. "Why did he send you here?"

"Guess you'll never know."

To both Lizzie and Peter's surprise, a spider's web latched onto the top of the gun aimed directly at their faces. When both teenagers turned to look at who had just saved their lives, they found Ned standing there with Peter's lost web-shooter, Arthur Langly next to him with eyes just as wide on the side in front of him. As Peter laughed at the sight, cheering "Nice shot!" Lizzie took the advantage they had and swept her leg hard against the man's ankles. Peter noticed, and he pulled onto the web, taking the gun with him and sending the man to the ground. Peter re-attached his web-shooters while Lizzie stood up, watching the man stumble to his feet once again, only to be thrown up like an insect for slaughter to a spider's web against the side of the bus.

"Go, go, go, go," she ushered Peter away, grabbing his arm before the man could figure out how to remove himself. They found their friends not far behind, and Lizzie grabbed a hold of Art the second she could, lurching him to her chest into a hug. "Art—!"

"Ned!" Peter was speaking faster than he could breathe, rushing to his best friend in order to fill him in on the new information. "The guy with the wings is Liz's dad!"

Ned and Art both couldn't understand that revelation. "What?"

"Wings?" came from Art.

"I know! I have to tell Mister Stark. Call Happy Hogan—or...or—call Lizzie's mom, right?" Peter looked to Lizzie for confirmation, to which she nodded and searched for Ned's phone in his suit pocket. He flushed immediately at Lizzie Carter touching him, his eyes widening, as Peter continued to tell him the plan. "Say you need to talk to Happy, he's Mister Stark's head of security...and—get a computer to track our phones for us, okay? Lizzie will call you on hers."

Ned watched in a daze as Lizzie hand his phone back to him, her mother's number already set to call. "Are you guys going to be okay?"

That prompted Arthur to look at Lizzie, a silence in their conversation that was led by his worry and her fear. She nodded once to him, squeezing his hand. "We'll be okay. Stay with Ned. You're my guy, okay? Keep me safe. Keep us safe."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

Lizzie told Peter that it would happen. He hadn't entirely expected her to be so serious, but she only scowled his way and adjusted her watch, reverting momentarily back to a dark-haired MJ. After she told him to stay here, Lizzie walked back to the front of Midtown High. While she hadn't expected her odds to be so great, one thing was going right for her tonight when Eugene pulled up in his father's new car. Instantly, the fear behind having the drive the thing was shifted to excitement because it was a beautiful car. But it was also Eugene's in some right.

"I'm sorry about dinner, but I know when branzino's fresh, and that was not fresh, okay? So...Lizzie?"

"Eugene," she smiled unforgivingly at him as she approached the vehicle. His date, Lacey, a blonde senior who looked at Lizzie with so much gratitude for giving her the chance to escape. "I need your keys."

"Uh...excuse me? What are you, valet?"

"Yes. First shift, thirty minutes. Extra credit, you didn't know?" she asked him in surprise. "Hurry up. I'm not waiting on you. Keys, now—and leave the poor girl alone you brought with you."

"Wh—" Flash realized then that his date had disappeared, and he glared at Lizzie as she got into the car, buckling her seatbelt and turning on the headlights with ease. Her Dad's instructions for night driving, right after locking her car door. "You better not put a scratch on her. It's my Dad's—"

"Shocker!"

With that, Lizzie had put the keys in the ignition and pretended like she had driven more than a handful of times when she pulled away, if only to sell her position as a valet. Idiot. Not a moment after she moved onto the main street, using her turning signal despite being in a crisis, Parker jumped down and landed into the passenger seat of the car. Lizzie yelped, impulsively pushing the gas pedal down and lurching them forward. Luckily, it was dark and not many cars were out, but she did feel an instant migraine as she relived the panic attacks had with her father.

"Do you have your license?!"

Lizzie shot him a look, pretending like she wasn't about to cry her eyes out at the thought of driving on a busy road in New York City. Nothing like being thrown into the firepit before her test. "No! Just focus on getting Art and Ned on the phone! And put on your seatbelt!"

"Put on my—Hello? Ned? Hey—hey, Art?!" Peter was basically screaming into the nothingness as he tried to connect to the speaker on Lizzie's phone, while simultaneously accepting that Lizzie may very well kill them both in a head-on collision before they make it to the destination. "Lizzie. Lizzie, watch the—"

"Peter, shut up!"

"Fine! Ned?! Hey, hey, can you hear me?"

"Go for Nedart," was Ned's response.

Art could be heard seconds later, muffled and static-y. "I thought we said Leedsly!"

"Guys!" Peter broke up the growing argument. "I need you track my phone for me."

"Yeah, but where is it?"

"I left it in his car!" Lizzie realized then Peter Parker might be cut out for this life after all.

"Genuine move. Okay, one sec. Art is pulling it up, and...he just passed the GameStop on Jackson Avenue."

Lizzie chewed her lip when a car got way too close for comfort. "Did you call my mom?"

"I did. She's very scary. She said to tell you 'Not again, MJ' and that she is going to call Mister Happy—and that if he doesn't answer, she's going to go find Mister Happy...not verbatim, obviously, but she's got Baby Sammy right now so she's a little busy and your dad is at work. She also gave me Mister Happy's number, so I'm going to call him and leave a voicemail—"

The teenage girl jumped in. "Do NOT leave a voicemail, Ned!"

"I will not leave a voicemail, Ned," was the instant reply from the boy, and a snickering coming from Arthur soon after.

"Where's my phone now?" Peter asked, interrupting again as he clutched the phone with one hand and the dashboard with the other.

A brief pause before Art could be heard on the other end this time. "Um...says he stopped at an old Industrial Park in Brooklyn. Hey, isn't that close to where you live, Lizzie?"

"Yes," she clenched her teeth together tightly. "I know where it is...I think."

Peter's eyes widened on her. "What? You think? That makes no sense. He said he was going out of town."

"I reached Mr. Happy. Don't think he likes you, by the way. It sounded like he was catching a flight. He said something about taking off in nine minutes."

"What?"

"He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes."

"Boxes?" Peter repeated in confusion. "It's moving day. It's moving day! It's moving day! He's gonna rob that plane! We gotta stop him!"

Lizzie, who had very little filter given the current circumstances and the attention she had on keeping them both alive on the road, had to glare at the familiar street signs ahead of her. "No shit, Sherlock!"

"Okay. Slow down, Lizzie...it's on your..."

The sound cut out as they rounded the warehouse, and Lizzie's eyes widened. "What? Left or right?!"

"RIGHT!"

The command came too late, and Peter launched a web at the first pole he could find, not only sending them in the right direction but also sending them on their side. In nearly sixteen years, the only thing Lizzie Carter had avoided was a car accident. Until now. The car skidded, sparks flying as the metal clashed against the asphalt and created a horrific sound neither teenager would get out of their heads for a while. Peter braced himself against the dashboard, but he only had a moment to shout before Lizzie's head hit the steering wheel in front of her. The car finally stopped when it hit a electric pole, thankfully having slowed down enough that only the front end collided.

When Peter could get his brain to stop moving around in his skull, he groaned heavily and opened his eyes. The result was Lizzie Carter unconscious, blood running down her nose and a clear break. Panic short-circuited his brain, all immediate plans thrown out the window and Ned's words muted noise to his ears as he grabbed a hold of her body to catch her when he unclipped the seatbelt. Her body was entirely limp, and he puffed out to contain the horror wracking through his body at the idea of pulling her out of a car like this. Blood was everywhere at this point, and his fingers nearly slipped as he choked out her name and pleas a few thousand times.

"Lizzie," he groaned as he stumbled to the ground with her in his arms still, all but a whimper against his mouth. "Lizzie, c'mon, please. Please, please, wake up—"

"Guys?! Guys, are you okay?!" Ned could finally be heard, Lizzie's phone being one of the remaining things undamaged. Peter couldn't care less, her back to his chest as he tried to shake her arm awake with one hand and her bleeding face with the other. "Peter—!"

"C'mon, Lizzie. Wake up," Peter shouted. They were not fine. "Just keep trying to get through to Happy!"

"Wh—"

Peter didn't listen and promptly hung up the phone on his best friend with no more answers, too focused on trying to hear the sound of the girl's heartbeat. He heard it. A glance to the building behind him, and then down to Lizzie and all the blood on her face, and everything felt like a horrible choice now. Too easily did he begin to worry, and he considered swinging them to the nearest hospital, but Lizzie's body suddenly tightened in his hold and her eyes opened. He wiped away at the blood on her mouth so she didn't choke, still coming out of her nose, and Peter moved his hand under her chin.

"Hey, hey, hey..." his eyes burned, relief and panic and everything in between suddenly dismissed by trying to keep her awake. "You're good. Your nose is broken, keep your chin up. You're okay. You told me to put on my seatbelt."

Lizzie moaned as the pain struck her face, her head, and everything else between that and her toes. "We crashed."

"We did," he nodded, glancing over at the trashed piece of metal. "You totaled Flash's car."

That realization made a laugh come out of the girl, which he couldn't even appreciate because he had to grimace at all of the blood on her. Instead of caring, Peter was startled when the girl pushed herself up off the ground, swaying enough that he was on his feet in the blink of an eye to catch her if she fell again. Lizzie waved him off, but she did take a moment to glance at his costume. Going for a sleeve, already coated in her blood, she ripped the piece of cloth he'd stitched together and removed it from his skin to stop her nose-bleed.

"We need to go," she said to him like he was delaying the process, like nothing had happened, as the car remained the obvious visual just behind her bleeding face that he wasn't crazy. "Peter—"

He blinked at her, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I heard you—I just—"

"I've been through worse, partner."

Peter believed that. She had made comments before, but to see her—with no enhancements or spider-bites to heal her—coated in blood and new bruises, with a broken nose, ready to continue fighting...well, Peter Parker couldn't help but see a shadow of Captain America in her. He well and truly believed that what she had experienced at the Triskelion had been significantly worse than anything Peter had been through, seeing as she treated this like a minor incident to her night.

Lizzie didn't allow them to burn any more time, testing out her legs with some careful steps along the pavement. "Let's go. I can go around from the side, find an entrance, if you want to crawl to the top. I'll hide, let you talk to him since he knows you who are—"

"Yeah, okay."

They were able to find an open door, but one look at the hinges and Lizzie refused. Too loud. The window next to it would have to do, and she tested to see if it was locked or not. To her relief, there was a very quiet pop as the window gave under the pressure of her palms. The next problem was getting up to it. Lizzie glanced around her, trying to find something that she could stand on to boost her up, but not a single crate or box could be found. The only thing in her sight was a friendly, worried not-so-greatly-dressed Spider-Man, now covered in her blood.

"I need a boost," she told him, gesturing to the window.

He looked at it, and then nodded. "Oh, right. Yeah. Okay—on three..."

Lizzie didn't care to listen to that command. The second his hands were cupped into a platform, she stepped onto them, pushing off his shoulder with one hand and using the other to clutch the frame of the window so she could manage her way up. Peter did his best not to let out a sound at her lack of listening skills, and she looked down to see him glaring up at her as he pushed the rest of her weight up through the window. There was a brief exchange when they realized they had to temporarily part ways, and the fact that he wouldn't be able to see her during that time caused him concern. Lizzie must have read that worry on his face because before she threw her other leg into the window, still barefoot and likely to get tetanus, she stopped.

In the only way she could provide, Lizzie assured him that she would watch over him. "I'm with you. I promise."

"Okay...okay," was repeated twice, once for himself and once for her. Peter trusted her. "Be safe. Please don't let him see you. He doesn't know about you, MJ. He was asking questions, but...he doesn't know anything. Keep it that way."

"Got it. Be safe."

"You, too."

They were separated into their own worlds of silence after that. Lizzie had felt alone many times in her life, but to feel alone in a dangerous situation was not a circumstance she'd felt in a long time. Not since she was coated in her and Carson's blood, running directly into Rumlow after the incident with Monroe...all those names together hurt her chest. When her bare feet hit the ground, and darkness consumed her senses, the smell of blood was everywhere. All over her, to the point where she wanted to gag on her own saliva, and she had to face the horrible fear of now choking to death on her own blood as a way to go.

With Peter gone, she understood quickly that the accident wasn't just a broken nose. Her right, bad shoulder must have hit Peter in the process because a searing pain spread down to her wrist, and a tenderness was already starting around her waist and chest where the seatbelt had constricted her. Sideways, apparently, considering the position Flash's Dad's car ended up in.

Injuries fully accessed, Lizzie moved on. Grabbing her watch once again, she found that the glass had been cracked. She managed to find her way through to the hologram, taking a piece of hair in her fingers and squinting against the peak of moonlight to see if it was red. It was, but her hands were also red so that said very little. There was nothing she could do about her current injuries, and Peter would be finding his way inside. She couldn't let him down and not be there with him. As she wove through the shadows, she eventually led herself to the only source of light in the warehouse. Peter already found his way there. Not a second after she looked around the corner did she hear his voice, and see the two standing on the main floor of the place.

"Hey! Surprised?"

"Oh, hey, Pete. I didn't hear you come in."

That was a lie, considering she could barely hear from the crash just outside, and she hoped Peter could see through that too. The inability to talk to him had them at a great disadvantage, and she started to miss KAREN deeply. "It's over. I've got you."

"You know, I gotta tell you, Pete, I really, really admire your grit. I see why Liz likes you. I do. When you first came to the house, I wasn't sure. I thought, 'Really?'... but I get it now."

Peter stared at him in disbelief. "How could you do this to her?"

"'To her?' I'm not doing anything to her, Pete. I'm doing this for her."

"Huh, yeah."

Lizzie breathed easier when Peter caught his hand in a web, securing him to his workbench and unable to grab any of his weapons. Good, she thought. He wasn't fooled by him. Lizzie couldn't help but be proud as she watched him, even in the handmade suit, because Peter was proving himself to himself—but he was also making her proud. Turns out he listened to what she said sometimes after all.

"Peter..." Liz's father sighed. "You're young. You don't understand how the world works."

Liz hated the condescension to his tone almost as much as she hated what he said. Her jaw tightened, unaware of how deeply her nails were digging into her fists as she continued to watch. Those words were said in a similar fashion to Peter before, but not in that way. Not patronizing him, but warning him—and those words came from Lizzie. His eyes searched for her in the darkness around them, calm in knowing she was there.

"You know, someone else told me that. Turns out you can be young and still understand plenty. I understand that selling weapons to criminals is wrong."

Somewhere in between the subtle mentioning of her and the tension in the older man's shoulders, Lizzie got a bad feeling. A feeling that she couldn't explain, only understand to be the signal her family taught her to sense in every surrounding. The Avengers did not teach her how to be an Avenger. They taught her how to stay alive.

He was stalling.

"How do you think your buddy Stark paid for that tower? Or any of his little toys? Those people, Pete...those people up there, the rich and the powerful? They do whatever they want. Guys like us, like you and me, they don't care about us. We build their roads, and we fight all their wars and everything, but they don't care about us. We have to pick up after 'em. We have to eat their table scraps. That's how it is. I know you know what I'm talking about, Peter."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to understand...and I needed a little more time to get her airborne."

Lizzie knew. Lizzie knew, and she was left with nothing to do to stop it. The circumstances left out of her hands couldn't be more of a traumatic reminder that she was defenseless again. She promised herself she couldn't ever feel that again. But that was not her choice, and she stepped out of the shadows to shout at Peter, not only revealing her presence but also putting herself in the line of fire just as the man's evil, bird costume came flying in the direction of Peter. She really missed her Bird Man right about now.

As she ran into the room, she threw a demand Peter's way. "Peter, down!"

"Oh, your friend came back—Lizzie, right?" Lizzie shot Peter a look as she moved closer to him, even in the midst of a bladed-wing suit flying around them knocking columns into smithereens, because he told her the Evil Bird Guy didn't know her name. "What? Surprised I know about the partner-in-crime? I put it together. The girl on the back of the truck, huh? The one who ran into the lake and saved your life? I'm sorry. Truly. But at least you get to go out together."

"He's stalling, Peter. We need to go," she hissed through her teeth, glancing at the columns and then up at the ceiling. "Peter. Peter, he's trying to—"

But nothing more was heard, and Lizzie couldn't see anything but rubble and ash as it fell from the sky around her and Peter. Just before everything went black, she felt a body cocoon her in their grasp, and the last thing she remembered was hearing Peter call her name before unconsciousness swept her up again and this time, it did not want to let her go.

Peter and Lizzie: 1

Life: 1

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Author's Note:

Heeeey, guys... so listen....

Just kidding.

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Peter Parker could not feel anything other than the heaviness on his back, on his legs, on his chest. He couldn't feel his hands, or if they were even there anymore—a panicked thought of course, because he could flex and unflex them which meant they were still there. Two seconds after he woke up, he realized that the person he'd grabbed before the building fell on top of them was not underneath him. Not sheltered, not safe, and Peter choked out a breath in a fit of hyperventilation when he realized he couldn't see Lizzie anywhere.

"Li.." only the first of her syllables could come out before he was choking, gasping for air as he realized his lungs were not expanding properly under the weight of the debris. He cried out again, trying to push himself up by finding any solid surface to push his palms against. "Come on...Lizzie!"

The first attempt failed. The second attempt failed, and he couldn't stop the pleads that escaped his mouth when he realized that he might die after the third attempt, and Lizzie might already be dead: "Hello! HELLO! Please. Hey, hey, please! Please, me and my friend! Please, I don't—I can't—we're down here! We're down here...I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I can't move. I can't...Lizzie—"

He couldn't breathe. He was going to die—but what stopped him, what caught his eye, was the reflection in the puddle. Mask ripped into nothing, blood that he couldn't tell between his own and Lizzie's now on his own face, and pure desperation in his eyes. He had given up. Peter grit his teeth and looked forward, noticing another reflection coming off the water a short distance away. That was when he realized what it was. Her dog-tags.

He couldn't see much of anything, just that she was covered in debris and dark hair covered her face once again. Not an ounce of movement, and Peter couldn't focus on anything enough to hear her heartbeat—so he was convinced it wasn't there. That was the last motivation needed to push him to his limits, and Peter decided he would not let them die here. He was not leaving her here.

"Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man."

Lizzie warned him of this.

"Come on, Spider-Man."

Tony told him to be better.

"Come on, Spider-Man!"

He pulled Lizzie into this. He couldn't let her die. Not like this, was all that repeated in his mind. If Peter could tell you those events, none of them would be fashioned in a way that he could handle. For most of it, until he could feel his lungs finally expand, he blacked out. Until he was crawling out, crawling towards Lizzie's body again, not until then did he remember anything. He pushed the crumbled foundation off her body, noticing just how deeply scraped up she had gotten in the process. His partner. He was supposed to protect her. Shaking, coated, and cold hands rushed to remove the hair from her face, clearing it to find any signs of life.

Peter muffled his sobs, his hand going to his mouth to hold it together as he tried to figure out if he should move her body or not. He couldn't leave her here. A quick thought approached his mind and he looked to her wrist to find the watch Tony gave her, doing his best to be gentle as he unclipped it. Trying to see through an infinitely-cracked screen, he watched it project with glitches. Once the contacts came up, he pressed the first and only one he saw.

"Hello?"

"This is Peter," came rushed out of his mouth at the sound of Mike Carter's voice, immediately letting tears fall again as he grabbed Lizzie's hand. "Peter Parker. You need to get to the old industrial park a block away from your apartment, okay? Lizzie—she's....she's not waking up—you need to get here now—I have to...I have to go. I can't leave her here—"

Peter had just given this man the worst call he could ever give a father, as he choked out the answers and looked at Lizzie's lifeless body. This was his fault.

"I'm coming. I'm coming. Is she alive?" His eyes squeezed shut, hating how Mike Carter sounded so familiar with that question. "Peter. Is my daughter alive?"

He nodded, then remembered he had to talk. "Yes. Yes. She's breathing. I don't...I don't want to move her. I don't know if she's hurt—"

"Don't move her!"

Mike Carter had ran the entire way to the apartment building in a record time, one that his own daughter might not have beat. When he arrived, Peter heard him shouting into the warehouse, and Peter's screaming couldn't have been louder in desperation for the man to come get his daughter. Peter had been holding onto her hand when Mike found them, the only part of her he wanted to touch, and the idea of letting go felt like he was giving up on her. Like he was leaving her.

Mike Carter coughed the second he entered the room, but even stumbling through the rubble didn't stop him from making his way to where Peter was. Lizzie's father paid no mind to the fact that he was dressed as Spider-Man, and the boy didn't have the energy to say it was just a prank, because he couldn't give a shit if Mike Carter knew he was Spider-Man right now. Knowing he needed to let go, Peter quickly stepped back from Lizzie and allowed Mike to fall next to her.

"I tried to..." Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat, looking around them. Nothing of the ceiling remained. "I thought...I tried to protect her—"

"I know, Peter. I know. I called the ambulance. They'll be here soon," Mike was dusting off the ash from her body, every final piece, as he said this. While his voice was level, the shaking in his shoulders indicated that he was crying. "You need to go. You don't want to be here when they come, okay? I've got her...I've got her now."

Peter Parker couldn't contain the guilt. He may well have fractured ribs, but his partner might not survive. And if he couldn't forgive himself for that, then adding the murder of the man who tried to kill them wouldn't make a difference anyways, would it?

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Author's Note:

Now, it's the end...of the chapter! No jokes this time. I promise. This was (I think) one of the longest chapters I've written for NATM so far. Even longer than the airport scene, and I thought I was writing the whole movie in one chapter. This was literally fifteen minutes of the movie. Hate Homecoming (love watching it). I will try and leave in-line comments of me writing this chapter since it was a big one! You guys can get more hints and details that way.

So. You know what that means. We're almost at the end of part two...and I'd just like to say, thank you guys for embracing this entirely different storyline of Lizzie. Part One was meant to be a very different Lizzie since she was playing the role of Emily, and Part Two was more of the "Lizzie" we didn't know because she couldn't be Lizzie in Washington...so, what do you think Part Three will hold for her?

Let me know what you thought (: