Behind the Mask

I cursed to myself and tossed the stack of photos so they fluttered in the air and scattered across the floor. I didn't realize I'd taken so many pointless photos, and I only had two days to gather at least 25 good ones for that stupid exhibition.

Most of them were blurry, and others weren't focused properly. All the rest were of Peter, and I couldn't have 25 pictures of Peter on my portion of the wall.

I tried to help him. I got up early and marched right through the doors of the station without a second thought. I was confident, and I had a purpose.

I was starting to consider how to word my request when I saw it. I saw the photo of Greg behind the glass, and a plaque posted next to it. I turned right around and came home.

After that, my day was very dull. I got my film developed and sat in the park for a while, but that was all.

Spiderman knocked on the window to my balcony. He only had time for me at night anymore. His days were clouded with the duties I would never understand.

I tore my limbs out of the ball they were in and turned the handle. I waited for him to let himself through the door as it spread itself open.

I felt him watching over my shoulder as I gathered the dispersed photos. "They all suck." I said. "I can only use three of them. I can't come up with 22 more in two days. I can't do it."

Peter peeled away the mask and crouched down to my level. "I think you can."

"Don't be ridiculous." I gathered the last few.

The bruise on his nose was spreading to his cheeks, but everything else seemed to be healing at an inhuman rate. "Think about how many other people waited until today to start shooting. You're the over achiever, remember?"

"Right, and I wanted to have everything ready by now, but it looks like I'll have to work in some time to shoot tomorrow afternoon." I slapped the new stack of photos on the coffee table.

Peter watched me huff and puff. "Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"When am I ever going to get over it?" I asked suddenly, ignoring his courteous question.

"Get over what?"

"Greg. He's been dead for well over a month. Why does it still hurt the same way it did the next day?" I looked at him expectantly, wanting his answer to cure me.

He touched his pinky finger with mine on the floor. "It takes time."

"How much time?"

He shrugged. "However much time you need. It doesn't go away completely."

I didn't need to hear that. "Oh."

Peter was sitting on the floor with me, leaning back on his arms and crossing his ankles. "There has to be more than just three you can use." He changed the subject.

"I'm not a very good photographer." I said gloomily.

"If you're not very good, then I must be awful."

I smiled at him kindly. "Oh, stop."

"Seriously. You're very talented. Better than I ever was."

I saw the sincerity in his eyes, the intention to make me feel better, and it worked. I kissed his lips carefully, aware of the split in his lip.

"What are you doing Saturday?" He asked, still touching my skin.

"The Toy Drive." I breathed.

"How about tomorrow?"

I pretended to think. "I'm not sure. Why?"

I watched the color surface in his cheeks. "I think it would be nice if I took you on a proper date."

I became giddy at the idea. "A date?"

He shrugged. "You can say no."

I brushed a bunch of hair away from his forehead. "Why would I say no?"

He squinted at me. "Is that a yes?"

"What do your spider senses tell you?" I leaned close, ghosting my lips over his in a teasing way.

He laughed, sending his breath past my mouth. "You're more dangerous than I thought."

. . . . . . . .

"Damn, Liv. How come you never dressed up like that for me?"

My body turned frigid at the sound of his icy voice. "What the hell."

"The boy from the fifth floor let me in." He leaned in my doorway to the bathroom, blocking a clean getaway. "You still babysitting him?"

I knew Peter was waiting for me in the living room, but I couldn't imagine why he'd let Chase as far as my bathroom without asking me first. "I think you should leave."

"Can't do that until you give me my box. You said I could come anytime this week."

I cursed myself for being so vague. "It's under my bed."

He slipped past me to get to the bedroom, tickling my waist with his fingers. I shivered uncomfortably.

"Goodbye." I said when he passed back through, box tucked under his arm. It was the last of the junk he'd left in my apartment.

"Just until Saturday." He snickered.

"Wait, why Saturday?" I feared what was coming next.

"I talked to Daniel down at the toy store." His eyes were taunting me. "I'm taking Spidey's place as New York's finest. You know, give the kids a closer look at the real heroes."

I had to admit, the idea of replacing Spiderman with a Police Officer wasn't a bad one, but Chase? Worst idea ever. "Unbelieveable." He was only doing it to get on my nerves. I knew it.

"Have fun on your date." He poked my sides one more time before he was gone.

I listened for the front door to close before I marched out to find Peter. "Are you out of your mind?"

He expected my explosion. "I didn't want to start anything that would upset you, so I just..." He trailed off, his eyes surveying my body. "Let him in."

I looked down at the royal blue dress I borrowed from Clara. I didn't expect it to be so skin-tight, but then again, I was borrowing from Clara. The dress hugged the curves Clara didn't have. "You could have warned me or something. He scared the hell out of me."

Peter was dressed nice as well, in a light blue dress shirt and black pants. He was still distracted by my dress. "Sorry."

I wrapped my jacket around my shoulders and stepped into my heels. "Can we go now?"

He nodded and offered his elbow to me. I agreed to take the elevator only because I was wearing high heels and I would probably break my neck on the stairs. We were the only ones inside, and once the doors closed over, Peter looked at me slyly.

"Absolutely not." I said, avoiding his hypnotizing gaze.

"What?"

"I'm not making out with you in an elevator. That's trashy."

He looked offended. "Trashy?"

"Yes, trashy. And unsanitary. Another reason why I prefer the stairs."

Peter laughed at me, but by then we were already in the lobby. "I never said I wanted to make out with you in an elevator." He informed me as we stepped out into the cold evening.

I blushed a little. "You were thinking it."

"You want to know what I was thinking?"

"Enlighten me."

I watched the way his breath creating clouds of fog around his face. "I was thinking that's where I first met you, hopelessly trapped inside an elevator."

I aww-ed on the inside. I assumed he was being hormonal when really he was being romantic. "Oh."

He shot me that sly look again. "You're the one that brought up the steamy makeout session."

"Yeah, well, with you, I don't know what to expect."

I mentally organized my thoughts. This was Peter Parker, not Spiderman. This was what a normal relationship should be like, with date nights and meaningful conversations. Lately, ours had been full of tension and anxiety. I was glad to finally relax a little.

Peter brought me to a small Italian restaurant that he claimed made the best spaghetti in the universe. I took on his challenge and ordered it for myself. The waitress brought back our sodas, and Peter excused himself to use the restroom.

I folded my hands under the table and let my eyes wander absently. I felt uneasy when a hostess walked past, leading two men in dark clothing to a table behind me.

One of them knocked my napkin with utensils to the floor when he brushed past the table. I looked at him curiously, but he never looked back. I bent over to pick it up when I felt the white tablecloth flutter away from my knees. The other man had approached from the opposite side of the table, catching the tablecloth on his way by.

I turned to watch them sit and smile at the hostess as she left them be. They never looked in my direction again.

I reached for my soda and noticed the damp circle on the tablecloth from the bottom of the glass was shifted a bit from where the glass was placed by the waitress. I never moved it or drank from it since she brought it to the table.

I poked my straw through the wrapper and stuck it in the soda, shaking away my stupid paraniod thoughts. Peter had been gone for a little while, and it didn't settle my anxious stomach. I drank most of the soda impatiently.

The waitress came to ask if we were ready to order, but I told her Peter wasn't back from the bathroom. She told me that the single bathroom had been open for the last ten minutes.

My stomach lurched up to my throat. I jerked around to see if the dark-clothed men were still there. One of them was missing.

I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what, or how I could help, but I needed to do something.

I left some money on the table and tucked myself neatly in my jacket. I stood outside the restaurant, close to the windows. I held the phone to my ear, praying he would answer me.

"Yello?"

"Chase," My voice trembled. "I need your help."

"Babysitting too hard for you?"

"I'm serious, okay? I'm not playing around." My eyes bounced around. There were alot of people there, but I still didn't feel safe. "Please."

He actually produced a heart and listened to me. "What's wrong, Liv?"

"I'm at the Italian restaurant a few blocks down from Times Square." A sudden hazy feeling dropped over my eyes. "There are two men here...and I..." I leaned against the windows for support.

"You what? What's going on? Liv? You there?"

My stomach lurched again. I was getting dizzy, and my palms were clammy. I wanted nothing more than to sleep right there on the sidewalk. I was losing my senses so quickly it was unnatural.

As if on que, the missing dark man approached me from across the street. He stepped onto the cement, crossed the dotted line, and climbed up the curb before everything went black.