Webs We Weave



Chapter Sixteen

DISCLAIMER :: This tale blends together aspects of Peter Parker/Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy/Ghost Spider/Spider-Gwen from Marvel Comics, Marvel Television, and Marvel Studios. Fanfiction? Sort of. The world and characters are mine, but they may seem familiar.

Author's note: Early posting! Enjoy!

When I woke up the next morning, there seemed to be blood everywhere. Sundays were a day that was for sleeping in and not being in school—aka enjoying oneself. That day would instead live in infamy. When my brain caught up with my eyes, I was apparently in the center of a crime scene.

The scream my body produced could be compared to the greatest scream queens of Hollywood.

In moments, Maven burst into the room with dread written all over her face, at first. I felt too paralyzed to move. Once her eyes had swept the room, she started looking me over for any hint of what could be happening. Her eyes found the problem. A hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders tensed… and then started shaking. Within seconds, the dam had burst and tears streamed down my face.

“Am I dying?! OhmygodamIdying?!” was the incoherence that came out of my mouth.

Maven laughed. “No, Saoirse, you are not dying, love.” She took in a breath, trying to compose herself. “I propose that you venture into the shower and wash yourself. Rinse your clothing in cold water. I’ll attend to the bedding. I shall meet you in the toilet.”

Full hysterics had taken over. “I’m afraid to move. I got cut last night. I thought it healed. Is this from that?”

Maven’s transfer case flipped gears. “Cut? Where were you cut?”

Meekly, I pointed at the site of the gash. It had, in fact, completely healed. There wasn’t even a scar. “Right here. I’m okay, right?”

Maven sighed and shook her head. “There’s nothing there but your skin. I’ve looked you over. There’s only one source of this…” Her shoulders tensed again. “...catastrophe.” She was barely keeping her composure.

“What?! What’s going on?!”

“I believe the kids are saying ‘Aunt Flo has come to call’, these days?”

The color drained from my face. “No…”

“It’s true, I’m afraid. Your uterus is shedding its lining. You’re menstruating.”

My eyes focused on the ceiling. “Son of a bitch…”

“It’s perfectly natural for a functioning female reproductive system, love. I can’t imagine you weren’t expecting something like this to occur.”

My hands gestured toward the crime scene amidst the bedsheets. “I did not have this on my Bingo card.”

“And yet it was called regardless. Shower time. Off with you.” Maven urged.

With her assistance, I rolled off the bed and peeled off the suddenly adhesive bedding. The posture and cadence my body adopted on the way to the bathroom was very similar to some “ew, gross” walks I’d seen in a horror movie or two. Once inside, the tank top and underwear I’d worn to bed were tossed in the sink and I left the cold water running. Stepping into the shower, I made the water as hot as I could stand without being scalded and simply stood beneath it until I felt considerably less gross.

After one of the longest showers I’ve ever taken, I pulled back the curtain and stepped out. I was immediately greeted by Maven standing in the room. The door was closed. In her arms, she bore a towel and underthings. On the counter was a package clearly marked with a brand I knew from life experience to make “feminine hygiene” products. My unsure eyes met hers and she cordially smiled.

“I will instruct you in their use. First, dry off with the top towel and use the second towel to wrap your hair.” Maven began her kind requests.

The process began with toweling off my body. I made the mistake of trying to dry off my crotch before fully dry and instantly regretted it. Once my hair was wrapped, she had me sit on the toilet while she went over the basics. I raised a very unsure eyebrow at the tampons, so she coached me through the proper application of a maxi pad. Initially, it felt weird but that feeling faded after a few minutes. She showed me where the Midol and Pamprin were located in the medicine cabinet in case I felt like I needed them. She was very kind and direct through the entire process, which put me at ease. A small voice in the back of my mind wondered if that would have been how my mother would have handled things if certain paths had diverged in the past. I shed a tear for the loss of that.

On the way back to my room, I had a thought that I vocalized. “Completely unrelated, but: do you have any access to something that could spin spools of thread and a loom for making fabrics?”

Maven stopped her walk and tilted her head at me. “There is a chance I could procure such tools. There is a probability I may even have such things in storage. Why do you ask?”

I nudged my head toward my door and didn’t say anything further until we were both inside. “Last night after we talked, I met this guy that calls himself Aegis. He’s one of those Real Life Superhero types. He suggested I get a better suit. He’s not wrong. Using dance gear is too expensive and, as I discovered last night, too fragile for the purposes I need the suit for. So, I was thinking: what if I made a suit from my own silk? I know from experience that it’s pretty resilient and quite flexible. It could work, right?”

She paced for a moment in the room with me. “As you would say: theoretically, yes. My question is a counter: do you know anything about what creating a bolt of fabric would entail or how to assemble a piece of clothing from raw materials?”

“Not even a little bit. However, I was going to ask for your help. You’ve been around since well before the industrial revolution. You’ve got some of those skills, haven’t you?”

“I’ve not used them in nearly a century, but I’m nearly certain the knowledge would return to me. How soon before you’d like to begin?”

My eyes widened and I shrugged. “Now’s good.”

“You conceptualize a design and I shall perform whatever duties I’ve the ability to.”

“Thanks, Maven.”

“You’re welcome, Saoirse. Now, get dressed. You’ve got to keep up your energy and it’s a glorious day outside. I’ll get started on your breakfast. You’ll need plenty of iron for the days ahead.”

For a minute or two after she left, I was left standing dumbfounded. I’d had a random idea in my mind before falling asleep and now Maven was agreeing to help me construct a suit. Without complaint or rebuttal, I might add. My mind needed something I could actually control in a sea of things completely out of my control. The possibility of the suit had been confirmed. The fun part was going to be engineering the sucker. I had many ideas.

The rest of that day was fairly boring, by comparison. There was conceptualizing, eating, a little gaming, and many maxi pad changes that filled time. Once Golden Hour was upon the city, I suited up and ran a patrol. It was the same as always because I hadn’t yet conducted the research that Aegis had suggested. It was still rather rewarding because I’d begun to see things from the perspective that he taught me. Instead of simply volunteering myself without consulting the people I was trying to help, I’d begun to actually ask them what they needed. Truth told, people were much more receptive to that approach and it was more fulfilling as well.

The following day was Memorial Day. It wasn’t as important to me as it might have been to other people. The bonus for me was that it meant a day off school. Maven had planned this neighborhood barbecue party. Tír na nÓg was a community center and not just a shelter, after all. It was easy to forget that most days. The few people that did arrive from the neighborhood talked about some big festival up in the Catskills that I knew nothing about until they told me. Some visitors had made a little pilgrimage to the Irish Hunger Memorial every year that I wasn’t even aware existed.

The food was great for us shelter residents. It was hard to beat the authentic bangers Maven had gotten from a specialty butcher she knew of. The corned beef sliders were a close second. My major gripe was that I couldn’t enjoy a pint of Guinness because I was now five years underage. There were dancers and bagpipers for entertainment that had come over from a nearby arts program. Until that moment, I had never seen Maven smile so broadly nor shed a tear while doing so. She muttered under her breath several times in what could be only assumed to be Gaelic.

Cleanup after the event was left to those of us that lived in the shelter. Maven assisted, though. She released us that evening to do whatever we thought appropriate. I didn’t go out that night. With Regents looming, I decided to do a little studying instead. Besides, the cramps were affecting me a bit more than maybe I anticipated.

The first day of school I had while actively addressing an angry uterus was fine. For the most part, it wasn’t much of a problem other than having to use the restroom a bit more than normal to change out soiled pads. I found out what that little rectangle box in the women’s restroom is for, at least. Mark seemed fine that I was a bit disconnected during our chat between the two classes we shared. General malaise and cramps did not garner any sympathy from Coach Vic Murch, though. Gym class continued uninterrupted.

Hailey had been acting a little weird all day. We’d actually barely spoken. Most days, you couldn’t separate us or make us stop talking to each other. That day, I was still feeling a little miserable, so I wasn’t feeling all that talkative. Hailey had disappeared during lunch and was giving me funny looks all through gym class. She’d give me a side eye and could barely stifle a giggle. It seemed pertinent to wait until after class to talk to her about it. Gym was the last class of the day, anyway.

“What the hell, Hailey?” I confronted her after changing into the sweatpants and t-shirt I’d worn to school that day. It was the most comfortable configuration I could find, given the circumstances.

She spun around to me like I was a horror movie villain. Her expression softened a little when she noticed it was me. “Jesus fuck, Saoirse!” In her defense, she was about sixty percent done changing out of her gym clothes. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m not that scary. You seem on edge. You okay?”

“What would you have done if I was still only wearing my pretty underwear?” She smirked at me, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not approach? We talking satin and lace? Why would you even wear that to school?” The level of casualness at which I had been treating undergarments meant for the female form was an incredibly stark contrast to how I had acted a month prior.

“A girl keeps her secrets.” She frowned at me, deflated.

“Look… whatever… I’m gonna head home. I’m still not feeling great and I’m gonna do some studying. Not going to lie, Regents are a little intimidating.”

She quickly pulled a graphic tee onto her torso. “First time?”

“For what? Regents?” I had to suddenly stop myself. The cover story was that I was being homeschooled in New Jersey since I was nine. “Yea. Those aren’t required in Jersey. Not feeling great? Yea, first time.”

“Must be nice to be homeschooled.” She rolled her eyes. “How are you not feeling great? Wanna clue me in?”

“I would have probably filled you in at lunch, but you basically disappeared on me. So, what gives?”

“I’ve been distracted and smooth brained today. Sorry. Seriously, though: what’s going on?”

My entire face slumped. “Woke up to a murder scene on Sunday. It was really gross.”

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my god! Are you okay? Where were you bleeding?”

“Where do you think I was bleeding?”

“Oh…” It took a minute for everything to finally hit her. “Oh!” Her hands fell from her face and she turned her head to the side. “Wait, aren’t you almost seventeen? Bit of a late start on that period train, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but it’s arrived at the station, nonetheless. I don’t wanna talk about it, really. I’m just tired and grumpy. There’s a rebellion being waged in my lower abdomen. I probably need to change my pad.”

Her face moved in strange ways. It was equal parts condescending, amused, and empathetic. “Aww, poor baby… go change your pad and meet me outside. I’ve got an idea of what will cheer you up.”

“Just… nothing weird, okay? I’m so done with that so far this week.” Not waiting for her response, I spun around and headed back to the bathroom stall I’d changed in.

I was still changing in the bathroom stall because the locker room was still intimidating as hell. The process for changing out the soiled pad and applying a new one was easy enough since I’d done it a few times in the past couple of days. Internally, I was hoping the Uterine Rebellion would be over in a day or so. I was in and out of the stall in less than five minutes.

Meeting with Hailey outside the locker room, she started talking about heating pads, ice cream, and pickles for some reason. She offered to buy me a whole pound of chocolate, which I didn’t see the need for but wasn’t going to quell her excitement. My feet stopped when she started climbing the stairs.

“Why are you going upstairs? The building exit is only about forty meters that way,” I reported and motioned with my hand to the corridor before us.

She whimpered at me. “I forgot a book I need for homework. Come with me, please?”

No part of me wanted more exercise. However, I groaned, rolled my eyes, and began ascending the stairs with her. “Fine. You owe me for this.”

She squealed with glee and we started climbing. We reached the top of the staircase and I trudged along. In the middle of the hallway on the seventh floor was a singular easel. Supported by the easel was a piece of posterboard with “Saoirse” written on it in a shade of purple and a lot of glitter. There was also an arrow pointing further down the hallway toward the auditorium. I was immediately suspicious.

“That’s weird. What’s going on?” I asked Hailey with a single raised eyebrow.

She nibbled her lower lip and grinned like she was hiding something. “Why don’t you follow the arrow and find out?”

Suddenly, I didn’t trust my best friend. Slowly, I began walking down the corridor. Passing her, my eyes wouldn’t leave her face. She was still grinning and nibbling her lip. Once past her, I once again focused forward. Eventually, I arrived at the large, wooden double doors to the “state-of-the-art” auditorium that had been built into the upper-most floor of the school building relatively recently. After a quick breath, I pulled open one of the doors and stepped inside.

The interior of the space to someone who had never seen it before looked to be ripped right out of every 19th Century playhouse and dropped on top of the school. The seats were all modern but the decor was iconically Victorian in style. The proscenium of the stage, itself, was an imposing masterwork of moldings and what looked like small statues around the perimeter. The deep red curtain hid the secrets of the stage behind it. Sitting in the exact middle of the first two rows was Matcha, Jefa, Salty, Lowkey, and Peach. They started clapping the moment I entered the theater. Hailey entered two steps behind me.

As if the clapping were a cue, the house lights dimmed and a single spotlight pointed at the curtain at center stage turned on. The curtains were parted and Mark emerged. He was dressed in a full costume that looked to have been ripped right out of some historical era I wasn’t all that familiar with. It was a doublet with pantaloons, tights, and even period-accurate men’s heels. He stood in the spotlight and began speaking, his voice carrying throughout the theater.

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!” He recited with fervor. His eyes were fixed on me. “It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear; beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, and, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

I was too frozen to react. I couldn’t really figure out what he was doing.

“Hark! The Lady approaches!” He continued, pointing right at me. I was almost half blinded by the second spotlight activating on me. “Prithee, fair one, grant me this boon: step forth and ascend! The stage feels but a desert until thy presence makes it a paradise. Mistress, I beseech thee: take thy place at my side!” My hand lowered as my eyes adjusted to the light. He could tell I still wasn’t understanding. “Let the groundlings witness! Let the front row testify!” He gestured to the others gathered in the seats. “This be no NPC moment, Saoirse Parker! Ascend the throne!”

I still stood dumbfounded. Hailey nudged me.

“He wants you to join him on stage. Go!” She whispered.

“Oh, you are so dead.” I harshly whispered back.

Feeling a bit of pressure from Hailey and almost all the people that live at Tír na nÓg with me, I began to move. Glancing at the assembled audience as I walked, the cameras of three phones were pointed at me. Lovely, it was all being recorded. Giving all of them looks of indignation, I strode up the ramp to the stage and crossed toward Mark Watson as Romeo Montegue. He dropped to a knee when I was just out of his reach. He reached behind himself and pulled a scroll from somewhere I didn’t see.

“Beyond these walls,” he began and spoke loud enough that Hailey, who was approaching to sit with the others, could still hear him, “the city of Manhattoes rages—the iron horses of the F- and M-trains thunder ‘neath our feet, the merchants of Chelsea cry their wares.” His eyes met mine. “But here, in this sacred place, time stands still. I crave not gold, nor the favor of princes. Mine own heart be a parchment, blank and cold, awaiting thine check of ‘Yes’.”

My heart threatened to beat right out of my chest and my breath was short as he continued. “Fairest Saoirse, jewel of the Hudson, light of the West Village… wouldst thou grace the revelry of the anointed Midsummer Ball with this poor, wandering player? Grant me thine own hand, making that treasured night e’ermore a paradise?”

It was only then that he unfurled the scroll in landscape arrangement. It had the question “Juliet?” on it with two boxes labeled “Yes” and “No”. In his hand at the far end of the scroll was a quill. It was really just a feather with a red ink pen taped to it. The whole thing took me back a few steps. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell whether he was asking me out or whatever else he was doing. My eyes darted from his to the scroll to the crowd and back in random order like a Spotify playlist set to “shuffle”. It was decided that I would inquire further.

“Um…” I asked in a normal voice before the pitch skyrocketed, “...can you…” the rollercoaster came back down, “...break that down in 21st Century English, maybe?” I felt so dumb for asking that all I wanted to do was hide.

Almost his entire body seemed to deflate like a slashed tire. “Do you… wanna go to the Prom with me?” He shrugged.

My face immediately flushed. “Oh! Um… okay… now I get it… um…”

My words basically took a vacation. Nerves high, my hand was shaking as I reached for the “quill”. My eyes scanned the scroll for a moment. All the thoughts and all the feelings flooded my mind at once. I was practically forced to act on instinct. He closed his eyes as I brought pen to paper and made my choice. The pen was returned to his hand and I stood back. He opened his eyes and tipped the scroll just enough for him to see the red “X” in the box. He reinflated, a smile played on his face, and he cheered as he pointed the scroll toward the crowd.

They all started cheering as soon as they saw the red “X” in the “yes” box. Mark joined the cheering. Then, he dropped the scroll and “quill”, rushed over to me, wrapped his arms around my thighs just below my pelvis, and lifted me into the air. The squeak that came out of me was pretty high-pitched and I couldn’t help but giggle. He bounced around for a few seconds with me before gently setting me back down on the stage. Beaming from ear to ear, he met my eyes with his own.

“Thank you, Saoirse. You will not be disappointed.” He reassured me, breathing laboredly.

I couldn’t speak. Meanwhile, my mind was screaming: ‘What the hell did you just do?!’