Title: Faith In Humanity
Rating: PG13 bordering on R
Fandom: Spider-Man movieverse
Author’s Notes: A while back I attempted a Spider-Man movieverse fanfic called Everyone Has A Choice, and I never finished it. This is that fic mashed down and rebuilt. It has something bordering on a plot now. :p
Summary: After the Queensboro Bridge incident, everyone involved struggles through the aftermath. Ursula Ditkovich was not involved, but she struggles through the aftermath nonetheless. And an unhappy middle-aged woman, after taking a job at the Osborn manor, suddenly finds herself an unwilling participant in the battle for a young man’s soul.
Aftermath part 1
Aftermath part 2
Aftermath part 3
Aftermath part 4
Aftermath part 5
Aftermath part 6
Emily part 1
Emily part 2
Emily part 3
Emily part 4
Emily part 5
Emily part 6
Emily part 7
Cinderella part 1
Cinderella part 2
Cinderella part 3
Cinderella part 4
Only Human part 1
Only Human part 2
Only Human part 3
Only Human part 4
Only Human part 5
The Second Aftermath part 1
The Second Aftermath part 2
The Second Aftermath part 3
The Second Aftermath part 4
The Battle Royale part 1
The Battle Royale, part two
June 19th, 2004, 2:58am:
They made their way to the front of the crowd. It was mostly photographers there, and the police. Ursula looked up and down; no sign of Peter.
“He’s not here,” she told her father.
“Where is he, then?”
Ursula shrugged and looked skywards again. Her father stared at her, and then followed her gaze.
“Why Peter’s woman?” he said slowly. “What has the girl done? Wrong place, wrong time?”
“I don’t know,” Ursula answered.
“Maybe we will get interviewed,” he said, suddenly more cheerful. “We can tell him we know this girl, and her boyfriend. Maybe they give us money.”
Ursula gave him a look.
“And maybe they know where Peter is,” he added. “That’s main reason. Hell, if he love this girl so much, maybe he up there.” He pointed to the construction site.
“Yes,” Ursula said. “Maybe he is.”
“I will find someone to talk to, I think.”
Before Ursula could stop him, her father had walked through a line of police- they seemed to have given up trying to seperate the crowd from the authorities- walked up to a man shouting orders, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“What?” the man shouted, not turning around. “No, we’ve tried helicopters,” he shouted into his radio. “I said, they’re no use! What else have you got?…we’re in the middle of the city! For god’s sake.” He lowered the radio again.
“Sir,” Mr Ditkovich said. “We talk?”
“No,” the man snapped.
“The woman up there, the woman in the car. We know her.”
The man turned around. Ursula thought she recognized him from the newspapers- the police captain, George Stacy. There was a pretty young blonde girl standing next to him, and Ursula recognized her too- his daughter, Gwen. She’d nearly died once. Spider-Man had saved her, and at Spider-Man Day, she’d kissed him. Ursula wondered what she was feeling now.
“Even so,” Captain Stacy was saying, “you’ll have to get back behind the line. We can call you later to interview you, once this is all over. See one of the other officers, they’ll give you a form to fill in.”
“Interview for money?”
“No. You want the newspapers for that.” He turned back to his radio. “We might have to evacuate if this gets much worse. Evacuate the whole street if possible-” Mr Ditkovich turned away in disgust.
“We find someone else to talk to.”
“Dad, come on. Let’s move back.” Ursula said. Her eye had fallen on a small group of people standing not too far away. A woman with red hair, a short, balding man, and a handsome dark-haired young man who she thought looked vaguely familiar. She edged forward to hear their conversation.
“-came as soon as we heard,” the young man was saying. “My parents are here too, somewhere. Don’t cry, Mrs Watson. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
The red-haired woman swiped at her face with a tissue. Her eyes were fixated on the taxi in the air. “It’s always her!” she sobbed. “Why her? Why my baby?”
“I don’t know, Mrs Watson,” the young man said. Ursula knew who he was now…John Jameson, astronaunt. Another one she’d seen in the papers. She was bizzarely tempted to ask for his autograph. “But we’ll think about that later. Right now we have to focus on getting her out of here.”
“I’m never gonna have a moment’s peace again,” the woman said bleakly. “This is the third time…”
“Excuse me,” Ursula heard herself say. All three people turned around to look at her. She spoke to the older two. “Are you Mary Jane’s parents?”
“Yes,” the woman said. She crumpled her tissue in her hand. “Who are you, dear?”
“I’m, um, a friend of her’s.”
“Do you know how she got up there?” the balding man snapped. He gestured wildly around. “Do you know why these goddamn bastards won’t let me just go up there and bring her down?”
“They’ve tried that, Mr Watson,” John Jameson said, sounding faintly exasperated. “The Sandman, or whatever he is, he’s keeping us all back.”
“And then there was- that other thing,” Mrs Watson said, dissolving into sobs. “Oh God, she was kidnapped by that-”
Mr Ditkovich joined the fray. “What’s going on here, girl?”
“Mary Jane’s parents, Dad,” Ursula said. No-one was particularly listening to her anymore, though. They were all staring up at the taxi, and Ursula didn’t blame them. She turned her back.
“I just bought us some hot dogs,” her father said, completely out of left field.
“Hot dogs. There is a vendor over-”
The last part of his sentence was drowned out by a scream from nearby. Ursula whirled around, and looked up to see someone falling from the taxi. She screamed too, without even meaning to- and then Mary Jane, for it could only be her, stopped in mid-air, caught by one of the webs which surrounded the place.
“Oh, Christ,” she heard John Jameson say. Mrs Watson dissolved into hysterical tears.
Ursula stared around. People were starting to back away. Mr Watson was yelling something, although she wasn’t quite sure what, and George Stacy was yelling into his radio. She thought she could hear a helicopter, too, although she wasn’t sure.
She was once more surprised to hear herself speak. “Hot dogs?” she said. “Thanks, Dad.”
June 19th, 2004, 3:02am:
Madeline Watson leaned against the barrier which seperated her from her daughter. Not taking her eyes off the small white blur in the air, she began to construct a prayer in her head. Let her live and I’ll do anything. I’ll go to church. I’ll let Phil into the house again. I’ll volunteer at a homeless shelter. Anything in the world. Just please, let her not die.
She looked around. Phil and John were talking to the police again, but the thin blonde girl who she’d exchanged a few words with was approaching her. She was holding something.
“I brought you some food,” she said. Madeline barely even realised the girl was talking to her at first. “What?” she asked.
“I brought you a hot dog.” she said. She offered it.
“Thanks,” Madeline said. She wasn’t in the mood for eating, or anything at all except watching and praying. “But I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll have it,” the girl’s father said. He snatched it from her hands.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mrs Watson,” the girl said.
The ground shook.
Madeline felt a fresh flash of fear in her stomach, and then- in a moment which seemed to drag out for hours- something rose above the buildings. People started to scream. Madeline didn’t, but only because in that moment it seemed like moving any muscle at all would turn her to dust. Sand flowed down the side of broken walls, across the ground, across girders and glass-
A sand monster swiped at the air.
She still didn’t scream. The crowd started to move backwards in a panicked mass, and she was carried along with it.
I’ll do anything. I mean it. Anything at all. If she doesn’t die-
She was knocked backwards by the force of the crowd, falling and smashing her hands harsh against the concrete. Someone grabbed her, picked her up- and then she screamed. Screamed like she’d never screamed before.
“It’s me!” Phil screamed back at her. He dragged her, still yelling, back towards the barrier. “Stop it! It’s me. You’ll be alright.”
“I said I’d kill him,” she sobbed, her voice sounding alien even to her.
“Back when all this started. I remember telling Mary. If I found out who it was took her, took her the first time, I’d kill him.”
Phil stared at her. “C’mon, calm down,” he said. He waited until she did. “They’re gonna get her down from there. I swear. She’ll be okay.” He had repeated this multiple times in the past few hours, and this was just one more time. She wanted to kick him down and run away, or worse, blame him for what had happened. But she couldn’t, not this time.
John approached them. A man who could only be his father was following behind him, barking orders into a mobile phone. “You guys okay?” he called anxiously. “We’ve got to get out of here. The police told us, anyone who doesn’t have to be here should leave.”
“I’m staying right here!” Madeline screamed. She looked around wildly. The ever-increasing gaggle of cameras and reporters were almost falling over each other to get nearer the scene, and the police were still shouting things left and right. The thin blonde girl and her father were still standing nearby, staring at the monster. It had gone terribly cold.
Let her be alright let her be alright let her be alright-
She struggled to keep her eyes on her daughter.
“She’ll be alright,” John suddenly said. He stood next to her. “She’s strong. Stronger than any of us know, I think. She’s going to come out of this just fine.” His voice trembled a little. “She will.”
“How do you know?” Madeline whispered.
“I just do,” he said. He glanced skyward one last time, and raced off after his father.
Madeline didn’t watch him go. She kept her eyes on her daughter, as if she could bring her back to earth again by sheer force of will alone.
Don’t worry my love your mother will save you-
A deathly silence fell over the crowd.