When Spidey Met Oracle

Peter was almost able to pretend to be happy about those prospects. He knew he'd really hurt her. That was the last thing he had wanted.

The more he thought about it over the months -- and he thought about it a lot -- the more he started to suspect that the problem with Carlie might have been that she was a little too much like him. She was fun and smart and just as geeky as he was. That kind of thing sounded wonderful on paper, but at the end of the day, Peter kind of hated himself because he knew he wasn't always there for the people who loved him, so there were times he wondered if spending time with someone exactly like him was all that healthy. For either of them.

Had that been the real problem... the thing that had kept him from telling her the whole truth? Because Peter had eventually figured out how Carlie would have reacted to him being Spider-Man if he'd just told her like he should have. He'd learned by then that she could and would keep his secret, and then she'd do everything she could on the force to help him do just that. Carlie would have embraced the crime-fighting side of his double life in a way Mary Jane Watson never could.

And they both probably would have lost themselves and each other in Spider-Man's world because of it...

Was that why Peter found himself spending more and more time with MJ since his break-up with Carlie? Because Mary Jane would never let him disappear into the web-slinging the way Carlie would? Because, deep down, he needed someone to balance himself out?

Pete and MJ had always been friends, but they'd never really been alike. She was always there to tell him when he was screwing things up with his friends and family. Mary Jane understood the parts of life he never would. That's why he still needed her. Even if it was as a friend. Peter struggled to think of anybody who knew him as well as she did... Anyone who ever could. Maybe that was the reason it'd been so hard to move on when she left.

Because even now, the more time he spent with her -- whether it was a late night bite to eat or an afternoon helping Aunt May pack up his childhood home for her big move to Boston with Jay -- he had this sense of the planets realigning. Like the universe was trying to bring them back together.

Maybe that was what true love is. Just making the same mistake with the same person over and over again until the stars turned cold.

Probably not, thought. Peter knew wishful thinking when he thought it.

When Doctor Strange had fixed the mess Spider-Man had made of his life with Mary Jane, she had made a decision. She'd walked away from all the insanity that life entailed and he'd never blamed her for that. Deep down, he liked to think that she was safe now because of it and that now she could have the kind of life she deserved.

For years, Peter had been convinced that MJ was the only woman who could ever love him. He never thought for one second, however, that he was the only man who could love her. Come on. She was Mary Jane Watson. It'd be harder to find a man who'd met her who hadn't fallen head over heels, which meant there was probably someone out there besides him that she could love back... Someone who could make her happy without her having to worry he wasn't going to come home some night because the Shocker or Electro got a good shot in. Mary Jane deserved her chance at finding that stupid schmuck out there who had no idea how lucky he was yet, and whatever nigh-gravitational forces that he imagined might be drawing them toward each other, Peter was determined to let her live the life she truly deserved.

He had made her that promise, whether she knew it or not, and Peter Parker was so goddamn tired of breaking his promises. He knew that it usually happened because he kept making vows that he couldn't keep because they were impossible. Like he could actually make it so no one died ever. But this thing with MJ wasn't actually impossible. This was just hard. But Peter would live by it because she was his best friend...

That didn't mean he didn't get lonely.

Was it possible that Johnny had been more right than wrong when he'd recently suggested that Peter might be a little... frustrated these days? Was that why he was all worked up about this possibly-on-purpose-but-probably-not run-in Barbara Gordon? Was he just hoping to get laid?

No. Peter knew what happened when he went looking for superfriends with benefits.

The last time Spidey had seen Felicia Hardy, she was hooking up with Matt Murdock. Like that was going to end well for either of them. Black Cat, the girl with bad luck powers, and Daredevil, a guy who already had the worst luck with women. Whatever disaster they were barreling toward served them both right!

Peter knew that was harsh, but those two lovebirds had really mocked him during their last little team-up... No biggie though. He could take a little ribbing from friends. Even if they did make him feel like a third wheel the whole time.

It's not like Spider-Man and the Black Cat were even seeing each other anymore, or that he was under the impression he'd ever been the only guy for her, but come on, DD. From everything Pete had heard from ol' Flamebrain, there was some kind of code, dude. And Miss Hardy was just one more of his exes that'd fallen for the oafish charms of friggin' Flash Thompson. Honestly, The Man Without Fear might be a step up from the kind of guys the Cat usually did all those naughty things with, but of course, these were guys like The Foreigner and Puma. There was even a rumor floating around about Felicia and Wolverine that Pete spent his every waking moment trying not to think about.

And to think, Peter was considering trying to look up another old flame that'd sent him packing... If that was what he could really consider Barbara "Apparently Surnamed" Gordon... He'd never gotten the chance to really get to know her, but he'd felt this spark. And all these years later, he still remembered the feel of that ember glowing in his chest, so yes, sometimes he wondered...

It had started to rain by the time Spider-Man swung home. Peter had this habit of zoning out during the WFSK weather reports that he really needed to kick, but thankfully, he was more damp than soaked when he dropped into his apartment through the skylight. Peter yanked off the gloves as soon as he touched down and dumped the web-shooters shortly thereafter. He'd lied before. He'd only nearly perfected the new web-shooters. With all of the tech he'd integrated in this new design, they were too tight, leaving his wrists all sweaty and clammy. Especially when they got wet. A re-fitting might not be out of the question. Now that the Sinister Six stuff was over, he had time to do that...

Safely at home, he tossed his mask and headed to the kitchen. As he opened his fridge for a bottle of water, it occurred to him that the last woman he'd seen naked in his apartment had been Supergirl...

Maybe he should give Johnny a call. The two of them could go out to a bar or club or something. Maybe Peter could meet a girl with all-new baggage he wasn't aware of. That was the healthy thing to do, right? It's not like he could find a better wingman than the Human Torch...

"Hello, Peter," a voice said behind him.

Startled, he attacked without thinking, making like a Crouching Spider, Hidden Dragon-Man with Unseen Venom Strike only to find his blow countered by King Defends Crown from Throne followed by Frenzied Swarm on Leathery Wings to push him back and Horseman Strikes in the Saddle to further press the advantage. Peter blocked with Silken Thread Snares the Fly (Second Variation), but still took three swift, pointed pokes to his chest before leaping to the ceiling and clinging in an inverted version of Honorable Tarantula Stance where he planned to employ Black Widow's Frightful Kiss on his attacker before his head cleared and he realized he recognized her.

"Barbara?" Peter huffed.

"Sorry if I startled you," the chair-bound redhead apologized between heavy, panting gasps. She appeared almost as phased by their brief fight, but he couldn't help but notice that she was still in the beginning stages of Heavenly Scholar's Rebuke.

Nice, Parker, he admonished himself. Way to unleash the furious fists on the nice lady in the wheelchair...

"What the hell was that?" Barbara asked, still out of breath, looking up at him.

"Um, the Way of the Spider?" he shrugged.

He was going to blame this on his spider-sense. Spider-Man had lost it the night Marla Jameson died, sacrificing it so that the Spider-Slayer's minions didn't have an early warning system that'd help them hurt his fellow Avengers. That had been the plan at least. Spending a few months without it had completely unnerved him. Ten years with something like that will change a person, but Peter had never realized just how much he'd depended on that screwy sixth-sense of his in even the most mundane ways. He knew he complained about the precarious nature of it a lot, but to suddenly find himself bereft had taken a toll on his confidence.

That was the whole reason he'd trained with Shang-Chi. Without his little cheat-sheet of danger, he had to refine his combat methods. Spidey was just beginning to adjust to the idea of a life without the tingles before he got them back in the middle of Spider-Island. The guys and gals at Horizon had used his schematics for the very device that had stolen his spider-sense to create an array that kept all of Manhattan's spider-powered citizens in the city by broadcasting a psycho-arachnoid frequency that shooed them away from the bridges and tunnels. Max realized at one point there was a way to calibrate these spider-jammers to give the original web-head his safety dancing shoes back.

Seriously... Best. Boss. Ever.

That didn't mean Pete wasn't still this jumpy, nervous wreck sometimes, which is probably why he'd been so quick to attack that random voice in his darkened apartment. That was the excuse he was going to give Barbara if she asked, at least...

"You learned kung fu?" she pondered instead, cocking her head.

"Some," he replied from his perch on the ceiling. And then his danger-sense flared for the first time since he'd come home -- a jolt in his head that spread out through his limbs. "Oh nertz," he muttered as his fingers and toes went numb and his powers suddenly faltered. He dropped to the floor in a heap before her.

"I can't feel my spidery bits..." he mumbled into the linoleum.

"Sorry about that," she shrugged. "That should pass in a few minutes." said the nice lady in the wheelchair... who could still totally handle herself, by the way. "Maybe faster considering your enhanced metabolism. Coiled Cobra's Lingering Bite is one of the easier Dim-Mak strikes to shrug off."

Those jabs to his chest he'd failed to fend off... That must have been one of those complex nerve-cluster attacks Shang-Chi swore didn't exist when Spidey had repeatedly asked during their training sessions.

"Well thanks for stunning me gently, I guess," he murmured, trying to stand on rubbery legs. He was about to tell her that if he'd still had his web-shooters on, this would have been different, but now, even his tongue was numb...

"Please, Peter," she insisted, "Give it a moment."

"I'mmmokaaay," he lied in a slur, slumping down and flexing his sluggish arms. "How are you...? How'd you get in here...?"

"I once got Black Canary into Doctor Doom's wine cellar on a bet with Silver Sable, Peter," she sighed. "Sorry, but your apartment wasn't much of a challenge. Please don't take it out on your doorman. Humphrey's a sweetheart."

"Humpees da maaaan," Peter agreed, still shaking things off.

"I'll admit that it certainly helped that your place is surprisingly handi-accessible," Barbara confessed. "Especially for New York City."

There was a reason for that. He had been careful to pick a place that his old pal and former rival Flash could visit without hassle. It was funny. In high school, people would tell Peter, as they helped him up from another noodle incident, that one day soon he'd be a famous scientist in charge of a lab, and Flash Thompson would still just be some jerk. All these years later, and Peter had only just found that big time lab job he'd been promised, while Corporal Eugene Thompson was a venerated war hero twice over who'd lost his legs serving his country.

High school kids don't know shit about the future. Surprise surprise.

Of course, Peter wasn't quite settled enough to explain any of that to his surprise houseguest. Nor had he quite caught his breath yet. "Okay, then, Babsy," he wheezed as evenly as possibly. "Why are you here? I thought you had to rush off for your flight back to Gotham."

"That's the nice thing about taking your boss's private jet," she shrugged. "Flight plans can change. Besides, I figured it was time that we talked..."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Long Time Coming

It was weird for him to see her like this. Not just the wheelchair or the fact that he was looking up at her from the floor. When Peter Parker thought of Barbara Gordon, he tended to think of her as Batgirl or the hot older chick in the stodgy pajamas that still somehow came off as totally foxy. But honestly, he usually focused on the naked sexpot with the tussled red hair rolling around with him in a sweaty tangle of limbs and genitals and light, lusty banter.

Whatever the case -- whichever Barbara Pete chose to remember -- it was a far cry from the woman looking down on him now, dressed to the nines in a sharp charcoal sweater over a plain white shirt and shapeless beige slacks, that lustrous crimson mane pulled up with a clip, her bright blue eyes flashing at him behind her glasses. And yet, he couldn't deny there was something strangely familiar about this version of her, too. Something he'd almost forgotten about...

"Yeesh, you just barely pull those punches, don't you, Parker?" she mused, rubbing one of the wrists she'd used to effortlessly block one of his strikes. "If I'd known you were so hot for a fight, I'd have brought wrist guards... Or maybe not come over at all."

And with that, mulling the far-flung past seemed all too moot.

"Right," Peter grumbled, trying to sound cavalier as he sat against the fridge. "But you came anyway... because all of a sudden you want to talk. That's different... What changed your mind?"

He wasn't sure why he bothered with the bravado. He'd just lost the fight, after all. Somehow he doubted he was about to impress this mysterious Babs of today with gruffly barked tough guy sarcasm... especially when he was still slurring his words.

It was a well-known fact that the Caped Crusader and his motley crew of bat-people could beat the pants off of super-powered guys like him pretty casually -- and Spidey certainly had enough personal experience to verify that -- but come on! He knew the Way of the Spider now! And she'd taken him out sitting down? It's not like she'd really knocked the crap out of him or anything, but she'd certainly bested him.

Shang-Chi would have been so disappointed.

Then again, Peter hadn't been in the best shape before his little sparring match with America's favorite former Dark Damsel. He'd come home for a little ad hoc medical attention in the first place. Actually, this little bit of kung pao paralysis he was reeling through seemed to help with the pain. The cuts and burns he'd been worried about when he first walked through the door -- well, dropped through the skylight -- certainly didn't seem so bad now and at this point most of the numbness had subsided to a dull, stabbing ache at the back of his head...

"I didn't say that I wanted to talk," Barbara corrected. "I just said that it's probably time."

"What, exactly, is the difference?"

"I've been avoiding this conversation for years, Parker, but you know who I am now," she explained. "So I figure it's only a matter of time before Spider-Man's tapping at my window. I thought I'd save you the trip and we can just have it out now and get it over with."

"Have it out?" he sputtered. "What's that supposed to mean? What are we getting over with? I just wanted to talk to you..."

"We already talked!" she groaned. "We talked for hours that day. What's left to say?"

"You know what I mean," he told her. "I wanted to see you."

"Well I didn't want to see you," she said. "I thought I made that obvious enough."

"I'll say," he muttered. "I didn't get a chance to say it at the lab earlier, but you don't look too bad for a dead woman."

"Believe me, I've got my fair share of old war wounds," she assured him.

"Why are you being like this?" he asked, but the answer seemed fairly obvious now. "I just don't understand you, Barbara... You knew who I was the whole time I was running around doing your comm-link-bidden bidding after you'd been cyber-stalking me for years -- which is kind of creepy, by the way..."

"In my defense, cyber-stalking's kind of become my whole deal..." she shrugged.

"You're making jokes now?" he asked, incredulous. "Glad this is so funny to you..."

"Are you seriously trying to lecture me about inappropriate humor?" Barbara balked.

"The whole time we were looking for Black Cat you treated me like an idiot," he sighed brushing past the fact she had a fair point. "And then you tried to ditch me. What did I do to deserve that?"

"I had to keep my secrets, Parker," she explained. "Because they're not just my secrets. You of all people should understand that."

"Oh no," he chortled darkly. "Don't try to pull that on me. This was about more than the usual secret identity bullshit we all pretend is so precious between us. I've had the 'I can't tell you the truth to protect the people I care about' conversation. Both sides of it. A lot. This was never really about that, though... was it?"

"Right, because you're the only one with something to lose, right?" Barbara bristled. "It's all just bullshit if it isn't about you getting what you want, right, Parker?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know what you did," she told him. "I remember you on TV telling the world who you were, but then one day soon after I didn't and every scrap of data I had on you was gone. I couldn't even remember your face."

"That... That was different..." Peter protested.

"You screwed with my brain!" Barbara seethed. "You hacked my systems! That's all I have left now, and you tore them apart without a second thought, Parker. So explain to me why I should have trusted you..."

"I put my faith in the wrong person trying to do the right thing and things fell apart," he said. "I had to fix things."

"Simple as that, right?" Barbara huffed. "You screwed up, so you deserve a do-over."

"No," he told her. "Not simple. You have no idea how hard. I don't either... I don't know how Doctor Strange put the genie back in the bottle, but what he did had to be done. All I ever told you was my first name. Anything else you learned about me -- and it seemed like a lot -- you got later, on your own. I didn't know that then. But I had my reasons, and I'm sorry, but they were more important than you."

"Well then you should understand what to expect from the rest of the world," Barbara put frankly. "But you still just had to see me, right?"

"You still remembered me," he shrugged. "Despite everything. No one was supposed to. Strange said no one would. I thought maybe..." Peter sighed. "Call me curious, I just wanted to find out why, so, yeah, I wanted to talk."

"Well, I didn't want to do that."

"I know," he said. "You said that already. A lot."