Unlike their flight to London, this time Hawk and Gwen, along with Peter and Mary, had seats together for the trip back to New York.
Just like the two previous returns, the flight went smoothly—from takeoff, to cruising, to landing at JFK International. No incidents.
But Hawk wasn't pleased.
Once could be called an accident. Twice, a coincidence. But three times in a row? That wasn't chance.
As he and Gwen walked toward the parking lot, his mind was already anticipating what kind of "accident" would happen the next time he left New York. Plane delays, turbulence, landing mishaps—he had already collected them all. What was left?
Soon, they parted ways with Peter and Mary. The couple opted for the subway, certain they'd beat the traffic. Hawk drove Gwen back.
They were right. By the time Peter and Mary were home, Hawk and Gwen were still stuck on the Brooklyn Bridge.
The radio played as they waited. A NASA scientist spoke excitedly about a hundred-pound diamond meteorite discovered in a lunar crater. They couldn't retrieve it yet. Hawk raised an eyebrow, filing away the detail.
An hour and a half later, they finally arrived at the Stacy apartment.
Warm greetings awaited. Helen hugged Hawk. Howard and Simon swarmed Gwen, eager for gifts.
"London was fun?" Helen asked.
"Fun enough. My legs feel like they don't belong to me anymore," Hawk muttered.
Helen chuckled. "Well, at least now Gwen has you to keep up with her. For that alone, I thank you."
"Mom!" Gwen flushed, dragging Hawk upstairs before the teasing could continue.
In her room, Gwen unpacked, dividing souvenirs. "Howard's, Simon's… and this tie." She handed the box to Hawk. "You give it to my dad."
He blinked. "And you?"
"My dad seeing me is already the best gift."
Hawk couldn't argue. He placed the tie on the desk. His eyes drifted to a circled date on the calendar—August 20th.
"Berkeley starts the same day as Empire State and NYU? I thought California would be later."
"Mm." Gwen looked up, smiling faintly. "Why? Gonna miss me?"
"I could pick you up from school every day," Hawk said.
Gwen's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Of course."
"Too late."
Hawk frowned. "What?"
She set aside the clothes and faced him squarely. "I turned down Berkeley. Empire State offered me their highest scholarship. And I chose it."
Hawk stiffened. "But Berkeley was your dream—your future."
"No," Gwen said softly, climbing into his lap, pressing a hand against his chest. Her emerald eyes locked on his starry blue ones. "You are my future. I chose you back in ninth grade. I chose you when I followed you to Maryland. I chose you when I went into Hell at your side. I choose you now, and I'll choose you tomorrow. You're my future."
Hawk's heart pounded. Gwen smiled, adding, "I almost chose NYU, but their biology department isn't great. Empire State is better, and… it's right next door to you. Surprise?"
Overcome, Hawk rose, gently laid her back on the bed, then stepped away.
She blinked. "Where are you going? My dad will be home soon—"
"Wait here," Hawk said firmly, turning for the door.
Helen nearly dropped her ladle when he came downstairs. "Hawk? What's—"
"Just need to grab something. I'll be back soon."
"Don't be long," she laughed. "The lemon sea bass won't taste good cold."
He nodded, closed the door—and vanished.
The next instant, he stood high above New York, space itself folding at his will.
Sixth Sense—Teleportation.
Saints who reached the Sixth Sense could move instantly anywhere they wished. Gold Saints could leap across light-years. Hawk wasn't there yet—but this was enough.
He surged higher, Phoenix wings blazing.
Boom! The sonic barrier shattered behind him.
Fifty Mach. Seventy. Five hundred—his current limit without Cloth. He pierced the atmosphere, body burning with Cosmos, and soared toward the moon.
NASA had said a diamond meteorite had been found. Hawk intended to bring it back.
…
Dinner was already underway when the doorbell rang.
Howard opened it—and gawked as Hawk handed him a raw diamond stone the size of a fist.
Then Hawk strode inside, knelt before Gwen in front of her entire family, and produced a brilliant fifty-carat purple-red ring.
"Gwen Stacy," Hawk said, voice steady and eyes aflame with resolve. "Will you marry me?"
"Pfft!"
George Stacy choked, spraying whiskey all over the table.
…
(End of Chapter)
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