𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐌𝐀𝐍..
Not all heroes get remembered and surely not all heroes have it all; this story is about the hero who was never where she was supposed to be. Wrong place, wrong time, life gets confusing until a...
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As far as the eye could see, the desert spread its unbearable illusions to dancing their very own waves of heat through dunes. From the observation of skyscrapers a "shortcut" through the Multiverse spit Wendy and Peter out in the middle of the least attractive side of another world. There was nothing there to see but the horizon line, a meeting point between the pale blue of an oversaturated sun shinning relentless, almost still, and the reflective warm colors of tall mountains of sand.
Heat rained down from the absence of clouds, supposedly on a desolate scape; only from all the places they could have landed into, the ripple through reality, time and space cracked this spotless sky and dropped the Multiverse travelers onto the sand, where, knocked out, they made the mistake of closing their eyes for a second... a minute... an hour. Weary were their spirits, enough to be mindless into lingering.
However much they spent there, waking up had them covered in a blanket of sand, half buried under the pressure and weight of warmth, and let it be clear: blood, sweat and sand is not a combination to be attempted by the weak hearted. Not only did the sand stick to their skin, a foil so desperate for hydration already, but sand was also an abrasive feeling creamed all over their scrapped wounds.
It can be concluded at this point, that was the perfect recipe for immediate anger or whatever was the bundle of raw emotion, a vast variety, which Wendy went through at a confusing speed for Peter's haze of an understanding. First she had been worried, as a consequence of waking up quite close to Peter in the first place and therefore, gaining a good look at the damage done by Steve Rogers to his pretty face.
Their very closeness in induced slumber position was the product of a single instinct Peter Parker elicited mid fall after already holding Wendy tightly to his chest from the second she tried to let go of him to after falling through the ripple. That instinctual flinch of his body, forcing him to take the impact of such a fall for both of them, was something no amount of therapy would have erased from him, for sure, and the second he opened his eyes again, Peter became aware that it would have been the death of him if his back fell on concrete, and not on smooth, fine sand, which bent, more or less to his will.
He woke up though with two realization and the previously mentioned was a mere dot in the shadow of a far more exciting shock: Wendy Weber was almost sitting on him.
In fact, she was next to Peter, just close enough so that her knees were entirely weighing down on his right arm, burying further into the sand. The true closeness came in the way she leant over him, being the cast shade, the shelter from the sun. Her eyes' color was brighter than ever, for many tears bubbled between their lashes; one of those tiny drops had detached before his wake and dripped on top of his nose, but by the time it caused his eyes to open to this view, the heat evaporated the salty caress.
Wendy has been studying Peter Parker's bruises and blood with the same attitude a grave would ponder on the wounds of its receiving corpse; used just to watching, the grave had no other knowledge than to remain passive and perhaps, just occasionally weep, so introduced to the new situation, Wendy too had only the worst case scenario asserted. Of course, all that was gone as soon as Peter opened his eyes.
