The Universe's Mixer

Peter's lips formed a wide grin as he sped down one of the less populated side streets on his new motorcycle. The thing was light, moved quickly and turned like a champ. It helped that Peter had had a hand in its construction; having someone with the know how and materials in his corner was not a bad thing at all. Stark was very gracious in letting him stay and work diligently on not only the bike but various other projects.

It was one thing after another at the Tower, one project completed from the list and then on to another with a few moments to spare for work, eating, sleeping and recreation. But for the most part the Spider had been holed up in one of Tony's many labs there constructing the machine he was currently racing down the sidewalk on. It was a bright red and blue color, the wheels a deep ebony. There were built in canisters on the sides that with a push of a button would slip out and fire webbing at an obstacle or a target. The webbing itself was unique, an organic compound base just like his own personal web, however the canisters had to be replaced and only held so much webbing. That was the only down side.

"Excuse me! Coming through!" Peter shouted, slipping adeptly around a group of pedestrians. He giggled and turned a sharp corner, heading back on to the main part of the road. The traffic was easy enough to slip through. The genius was having the thrill of a lifetime riding. He had always loved riding a bike or a motorcycle. It felt so freeing.

And it helped that he had made it. He was proud of it.

Only when he found the place he frequented for pizza did the Spider bring the bike to a halt. He parked it in one of the slots of the parlor and dismounted. His whole body tingled with the sensation of freedom and hard work. There was nothing more exciting than constructing something with your hands and have it be successful. This was a feeling that only few knew, but that he shared with Stark. And maybe the short, brown-haired scientist that liked his privacy more than he wanted to chat.

With an absent shrug of his shoulders, Peter pocketed the keys and strolled in to get a pizza.

Misery.

It was the best and only word Eric could think of to describe the too long days and seemingly endless nights that stretched on for eternity. It was the word that he knew that most accurately described his every waking moment, and that overwhelmed the small hours of sleep he had been determined to claim each evening. Endless wandering made him restless and though he never truly believed he would have ever ended up back in that apartment...well, he had and he hated every piece of it. Strangers had designed it, ghosts of his past, and now he was dwelling in it. Resting against strange sheets in a bed his body knew once a very long time ago. Slowly the mattress was beginning to recognize him again, but it was old and uncompromising and he loathed it.

Most nights, because of the tossing and turning, Eric spent the weary hours draped across the couch. The white kitten had taken claim to the back of the piece of furniture, snuggled gently into the tops of the cushions. Though Saucer certainly wasn't much of a kitten anymore. He was growing steadily, becoming more active and eager to explore. And bold. Oh was the white Persian feline a bold creature indeed.

There were no amount of books, magazines or television programs worth settling into that could distract him. Nothing seemed to be able to combat the misery and the emptiness Eric felt. Not even going out to explore the City or listening to the local artists struggle to find themselves. Some of that hope had returned, some of that emptiness had eased up when he had spent time on the wall with Lee. But she was only a small part now.

He needed his mate. Every moment spent without him was like dying slowly, a feeling Eric knew. It felt like suffocation, drowning.

Macklyn had sworn that they never would have ended up anywhere near here, that Eric would not have to face these walls again. These ghosts. These memories. Where had everything good gone? It felt like being trapped beneath a landslide, one thing after the other...and both of them were to blame for that. Had he known back on the island before Macklyn had changed him that he would have to face life without his soulmate, he would never have asked Macklyn to save him. Death was much easier than this. He would have welcomed that over this. This was...it was too much to lose.

Misery.