╭ ╮
━━━━  " 📂 "

𝘼 𝙋 𝙊 𝘾 𝘼 𝙇 𝙔 𝙋 𝙎 𝙀

╰ ╯

MJ'S FIRST AID TRAINING, as necessary as it was, hadn't prepared her for something like this. She knew CPR, she knew how to dress wounds, make temporary splints for wounded limbs, she knew how to safely perform the Heimlich manoeuvre and knew how to wash eyes, clean skin and treat anything if irritant or toxic chemicals got near the vital body parts.. but she had no idea what to do with a gunshot wound.

Or a man bleeding out on the floor. Or a man dying in front of her.

Peter didn't know either, but she didn't expect him to do anything, didn't need him to do anything. Because something had kicked in within her body and the adrenaline was beginning to pound through her veins and echo in her head. And completely unnaturally, she took charge of the situation.

A cardigan in her bag was sacrificed rip up and to stuff into Peter's hands as he tried to do something - anything - that wasn't staring at the body, and she tried her hardest not to cry as she made the necessary calls and a quick text to her dad telling him that something had happened and she wouldn't be home. And when the police and paramedics arrived, she sat with Peter as they cleaned their hands of any blood and cradled his head in her arms as they pulled a sheet over his uncle's body whilst they sat in the back of an ambulance.

She was being treated as a witness, despite not directly seeing the crime. Neither had Peter, but both had distinctly seen the men and nobody said a word when the police officer announced that he would be taking them back to the Parker household. She sat quietly, intruding on the private moment as the police officer informed Aunt May of the murder and dutifully gave the information they asked for when taking her statement.

MJ had seen a man wearing black sunglasses and a beanie, with blonde straggly hair to his shoulders press a gun to Benjamin Parker's torso and shoot him, and saw him run off. He had bumped into her shoulder, and her jumper and coat had been taken from her for fibres and DNA testing. She was left in one of Peter's hoodies, making cups of coffee for May without question when she asked, leaving the room briefly to text her dad to let him know where she was and why she wasn't home. Her worry about him being sober or not suddenly seemed both magnified and diminished into nothing; on one hand, it was a terrifying thought for him to be wandering the streets whilst drunk, but on the other hand, it seemed like nothing compared to what Peter and May were going through.

By the time the police had left, it was too late for her to leave and make her way home. That and she didn't think Peter would let her out of his sight if she was going to do that; she might carry a can of pepper spray on her at all times, but that was no protection against a gun. Instead, he gave her a pair of pyjama pants - they were checkered, like his - and after cleaning up in the bathroom, MJ found herself in the hallway once again.

Instead, today wasn't her trying to help Peter feel better. It wasn't her wishing that he hadn't felt ill so that they could embark on another date like they had on that prior Wednesday. It wasn't the middle of the day, she hadn't just been offered a glass of Aunt May's iced tea, and it wasn't her first time on the street for years. No, it was the middle of the night... maybe, she hadn't actually had a chance to look at the time since she had been talking to Peter as she approached the street where it had all happened, and she was standing outside of his room in pyjamas, trying to convince herself to go inside.

Finally, her hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed it open. It was quiet inside, Peter laid beneath his covers with his eyes closed. He had been exhausted when she left him in order to change - so the sight was particularly welcome - and had been excessively checking on May downstairs as she passed out on the couch and then checked that the cover that the police had put over the broken glass was secure and the back and front doors were lost... and then all the windows, and then the doors again, all whilst MJ had been trying to convince him that he needed to go to sleep. It had been hard, but eventually, her obsessive, unyielding attempts had paid off and she had followed him up the stairs. There was a lamp left on in every room.

MJ placed down the pile of her folded work clothes on the desk chair, next to where Peter had left her bag. With as much carefulness as she could muster, she sat down beside him, adjusting the covers over her legs. But as much as she tried, there was no way around it and moments later Peter had moved, eyes opening.

"MJ?" He muttered, a dazed look in his eyes turning into a horrifying realisation. He hadn't just dreamt it all. Every little bit of it was so very real.

"Sorry, did I wake you??" She asked, watching as Peter sat up and shook his head, palms covering his face before combing through his hair. "You should go back to sleep-"

He shook his head. "I fucked up, MJ." He whispered, the pair sat in front of each other. Peter's gaze dropped, his forehead resting on her shoulder. She adjusted accordingly, found that he became most comfortable with her back pressed against his propped-up pillows, and his body laid beside her legs, head resting on her chest. His gaze was permanently focused on something else in his room, even as her arms wrapped around her shoulders, fingers slowly brushing through his hair. It was silent for a moment. "I really fucked up, this time."

"With the backboard?" MJ blinked. "But... I don't think he was that-"

"No. Not the backboard." Peter swallowed; she could feel how much effort he needed for such a simple action. "I... broke the door. I stormed out after the argument. I'm the one who brought up my dad, I'm the one who was in front of him in the queue... who held up the line because I didn't have two cents for the stupid chocolate milk."

"Peter-"

"No, MJ, just let me, please? For a minute?" He let out a sigh. "Sorry.. I know you're only trying to help. I'm just so angry at - at - at.. myself. At him. At me. At everyone. I don't know how to stop.. I don't know what to do with it all. I don't know what to do."

She didn't say anything for a moment, the words infused with complete and total sadness lulling between them. "You don't need to know," Margot told him, gently. "You don't need to know what to do now, what to do tomorrow, what you'll do in a year's time."

"But..." Peter didn't finish his sentence, the awful sound of tears cracking through the sole word. A hand found the one MJ rested on his shoulder and tightened around it, clutching her fingers like a lifeline. "I.. I said some awful things. And I didn't get to say sorry. He came looking for me.. because I stormed out like I was some child. I couldn't just go up to my room and slam the door I just had to get out of there and because I left he came after me and - and -"

"Peter, you can't do this to yourself."

"If I didn't go and see Dr. Connors and I didn't ignore his call.. what if it had been an hour earlier and it was Aunt May walking home alone because I wanted to go to Oscorp? If I wasn't so distracted then this all wouldn't have happened." Peter shook his head, his fingers tightening on her skin. "If I hadn't gotten so angry.. and upset. If he hadn't said about my dad - if I hadn't talked about my dead dad. I don't even remember him. I got angry over a guy I don't fucking remember."

"Peter-"

"I shouted at him. I jabbed my finger in his face and then broke the glass in the door before leaving. The guy who had taken me in when my parents died and I just threw it back in his face. I don't even know my dad. I just have.. blips of images and that one last time I ever saw him. And I argued with Uncle Ben. And then I heard him shout for me and I ignored it. And I had to get that chocolate milk. Stupid fucking chocolate milk." He ripped away from her grasp, sitting up and burying his head in his hands.

"I didn't say anything as that guy robbed the bodega and didn't even help the cashier. Then he ran.. and he bumped into Ben who had to do the right thing. Why can't anyone do the wrong thing here? Who gives a shit about responsibility when - when - when it only ends in death." Peter took a heaving breath in, his words reduced to almost nothing. "How can... I don't... I keep seeing it. I couldn't help him. I watched him die.. and I could have prevented it if I wasn't so fucking stubborn."

MJ could feel the tears well in her eyes, her hand reaching for her mouth to stifle the sob that was threatening to come. She hated it. She hated it all so much. Although she couldn't cry right now; Peter needed someone strong, yet she found it so difficult to move to comfort him.

"I could have prevented it. But I didn't. I let this happen - I could have stopped at any time and just apologised but... I was too angry." Peter huffed out in pained wisps of words. "If I had just-"

"You can't torture yourself with hypotheticals." MJ has forced herself, moving forward to sit next to him, an arm around his broad shoulders. "Peter - no, really, listen to me. They will ruin your life. Thinking about all the 'what ifs' just makes everything all the more fucked up because there are thousands - no, millions of things you could have done to change things. Hypotheticals ruin your life, and I don't want you spending the next years of your life like I have for so long."

Peter paused then, the focus on something else seeming to calm him down. "What do you mean?" He asked, avoiding her gaze as he blinked back bitter tears.

"Grief when you're eight and when you're seventeen is different." MJ began, words gentle. "This is a different grief for you. Your parents have died.. yet you didn't get a chance to mourn because you didn't truly understand. The death of someone close at this age, when the concept of death is ingrained in our minds and taught to us by everyone around us. When death is seen on the news and spoken about between classmates, it's hard to truly affect you until something.. something like this has happened."

She had his attention now, and so she would continue. "I.. when my mom died.. it was weird. I didn't know that when she went into hospital it wasn't just to get... I don't know. I can't even remember. I just know that I didn't understand that my mom wasn't coming back. It was just.. like she was on a long vacation. Of course, I found out what death was and I got older, which is when the hypotheticals started." She took a deep breath in, feeling a hand wrapped around her own. "It ruined my life, Pete. I was constantly thinking about how my life would be if she hadn't died. Would my dad drink cases upon cases of beer and get so drunk I had to pick him up from the bar if she was still alive? Would I live in the apartment I do now, would I have a half brother, would I still live next door to you? I... I ruined myself fantasying about this non-existent world where she hadn't died and ruined everything good about my actual reality."

"It took my years to get a handle on it. I went to therapy for a time, you know. Some sort of PTSD counselling. I had managed to traumatise myself with my own thoughts. And please, Peter, I don't want you to go through the same." MJ didn't want to make it about herself, but the words kept tumbling out and Peter looked more interested and less angry as each came. "I don't want you to hide behind hypotheticals."

He nodded. The anger had faded in its entirety, replaced by the overwhelming sense of.. acceptance. Something had clicked and he knew that Uncle Ben was dead. And then he just couldn't stop crying. It was too much at once, his ways of altering the situation despite the lack of ability to go back in time, being upset with himself for voicing something he never did. The idea that he had no idea what was happening to his body and everything felt ten times fucking worse than usual. He just couldn't stop it.

But he had MJ. And her sweater shoulder was happily available for him. Her arms were wrapped around him in no time, and although she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore the distinct homely smell that often surrounded her - coffee, vanilla and blossom - filled his senses. The tears didn't slow until MJ felt him become heavier, his tight grasp on her wavering and appearing much looser.

Peter has fallen asleep and carefully, so she didn't wake him this time, she laid them both down so she could try and hide from the horrifying world in sleep as well. One of Peter's arms remained around her until the very eclipse between waking and sleep, and even then MJ was sure that he hadn't let go.

And she wasn't sure that he would want to.

🕸

If anything, MJ was right in that. When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, the pain in her heart and the consuming thoughts that had filled her mind since turning that street corner had only allowed her a precious amount of sleep before forcing her eyes open and not allowing her to go back into the confines of an imaginary world where bad things didn't happen so often, Peter's arm was still around her waist albeit a little looser than she remembered.

But luckily, he was still asleep. And that was good, he had been exhausted, and it was too early for the inhabitants of the household to be awake. MJ was an anomaly to that, seeing as she shouldn't even be there. Somehow, she managed to reach for her phone and cursed at her forgetting to put it on charge, using what little was left to check her messages. Twitter let her know that it had been broadcasted on the news and people were once again complaining about gun laws and how their neighbourhoods were too dangerous. She knew people at school had heard from messages from Gwen, Missy and Flash, and even Dr. Connors had heard about it. Felicia too, although it appeared that MJ had forgotten messaging her the night before.

Her dad hadn't replied, although there was a text from Kev that said he had moved him to the backroom after he passed out. That made her feel a little bit better than the pit of despair, guilt and pure worry that had been settling there since the evening before when she wrote out the original text to her father. At least now she knew that he was alive and not drunkenly roaming the street when the murderer was still on the loose.

"What's wrong?" The words made her jump out of her skin and clutch her phone to her chest. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Peter apologised, his voice thick with sleep. "Sorry.. ugh. I don't think I've slept that badly in a long time."

"Well... mental state affects how you sleep a lot," Margot replied softly, now able to reach for her bedside table to discard her phone. "The feeling of worry affects it a lot. That's why I probably woke up... thinking about my dad and stuff." She didn't want to add the obvious end of the sentence; that Peter's worry was because of what happened the previous night.

But she needn't have worried; Peter was already in such a state about it, no longer laying down beside her and instead sat up, knees pulled to his chest. "How are you feeling?" She asked. It was a stupid question, but she just had to ask. "I was thinking I would make everyone some breakfast... um, we could go for a walk? Or spend the day watching-"

"I wanna go to school, MJ," Peter replied, a small, almost encouraging smile on his face. "I don't want to miss out on anything this year. I used to skip all the time and I can't miss anymore."

"Peter - nobody is expecting you to go anywhere. Nobody's expecting you to do anything." MJ sat up with him, crossing her legs below her. "It's not... I don't think it would be a good idea. You need time to grieve and-"

"I'm fine." His expression didn't change. "I just want everything to be back to normal." She still looked worried, but she didn't question it any further. Good - he couldn't have that. He had slept in shifts, a varying amounts of time between waking and falling back into nightmares and memories of earlier that night. And when he had woken up and lay awake with his eyes screwed shut trying to slip back into it, a plan had been forming in his mind.

When he was bitten by that spider, something had changed. That was obvious enough from the journey on the train - the whole flying onto the ceiling, sticking to metal poles and people's shirts kinda pointed something out to him - and then after his talk with Dr. Connors and what had happened with Flash and the backboard... Peter had come to a certain conclusion. Or a plan, of sorts.

He had obviously developed some sort of super-strength, and his abilities to climb up poles and the sides of buildings and swing from wires across the ceiling - in all means of the word.. and wanting to avoid cliches, he had turned into something his teenage self could have only dreamt of. And he wasn't going to let it go to waste. If he had the powers to do it, then he would. He would find the killer. And he wasn't going to be able to do it if he was wallowing around his own despair.

"Okay." MJ nodded. She didn't want to pry and didn't quite understand what was going on in his mind as he stared down at his knees. "Okay." She swallowed. "We'll go to school... but I might have to go home quickly to get a fresh change of clothes. Um - I can't wear this... and there's blood on my clothes from yesterday."

Peter glanced up at her. "Yeah. Okay. I can meet you there." MJ studied him for a moment before getting to her feet. "If you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Peter nodded, watching as she reached for her phone and tucked it in her pocket, shoving the blood-stained clothes from the night before into her bag. "You can keep those if you want." He pointed out, gaze on her choice of pyjamas. "They suit you."

"They do?" MJ turned slightly in the small mirror, staring at her reflection. "Thanks." She couldn't help but smile in the face of some normality. "I'll check on May when I go down and text you the results."

"Okay." His fingers curled around his phone, which had opened on the message exchange they had had the previous night. He didn't divert his attention for a moment. There was a voicemail notification that he hadn't noticed. "He tried to call me." Peter couldn't believe had forgotten; he had climbed his way up one of the metal columns that held up the railway tracks and sat in the small space left between the parts of the structure. He had denied the call and didn't answer when Ben shouted his name just feet away from him as he walked by.

"Pete-"

"I didn't answer. I should've answered." He had never been that sort of emotional kind. To storm off out of the house, to even engage in such an argument. But that night he had, and he was sorely regretting it. Margot's words from just hours before echoed in his ears. He couldn't quite go back and answer the call, but he could at least listen to it now. "Stay for a couple of minutes?"

"Yeah. Sure." MJ nodded instantly, her bag slipping from her shoulders again as she made a move to sit down on the edge of his mattress. "Do you want to listen to it?"

"Yeah. I do." Peter said. "I do. I want to.. try." He replied, and so he tapped on the notification, the pair of them watching as the screen flashed before the voicemail began to play. She hadn't quite realised just how tight the grip of his hand was on her's.

"Peter." Ben's voice echoed through the speakers, recognisable to MJ from the hallway the previous day. There was a choking feeling appearing in her stomach, reaching her throat and becoming sticky. "I know things have been difficult lately... and I'm sorry about that." His grip got even tighter, mind flashing back to the argument before he could stop it. "And I think I know what you're feeling-"

He had to stop it - he knew the hypotheticals weren't good for him but listening to the voicemail was only making things worse and his thumb pressed the red button.

"Oh," MJ whispered as the voices came to a stop. "Pete-"

"No, it's fine. I'll listen to it..." He swallowed, feeling the welling of tears in the corners of his eyes. "Another time." He added.

She didn't hesitate to reach forward and wrap her arms around his shoulders, feeling the attempts of trying to keep everything together leave his body completely as everything washed out over him, transferring into soaked tears on her shoulder. Peter didn't know what he was going to do. How he was going to be able to get past it, how he was going to find the guy who did it and get his revenge. But for now... his grip tightened on her, felt her arms around his shoulders.

"I think.." He sniffed. "I think today might be the worst day of my life." He laughed, the sound filled with self-deprecation.

"No." MJ shook her head. "That was yesterday, today is a new day Pete. And we're going to go to school, or not if you don't want to. And we're going to figure this out. You have me, okay?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded. "I have you, and Aunt May." And his ability to find whoever did it. But he wouldn't quite mention that to the girl currently sitting beside him, doing her best to try and help him find his way through the darkness enveloping his mind.

🕸

MJ hadn't really wanted to leave, but eventually, she had managed to tear herself away from the scenario to return home. And when she got there, she found her dad waiting with open arms, having showered and changed for work after waking up at the bar. He had hugged her and didn't mind so much when she let out the tears she had been holding overnight, and promised her pancakes when she went to shower.

Dr. Connors had called the home and informed her father that she wasn't expected to come to work that evening, and with that in mind, she didn't feel the need to dress so.. formally and appropriate for somewhere like Oscorp. It took her a moment to pick it out, but eventually the mossy green cargo pants, a lace cami and a Fairisle-patterned cardigan. It was different from the skirts and dresses she favoured more often, but it seemed to fit her mood. Her hair was pulled back and the most basic makeup was applied to hide the dark circles and make her seem more alive.

Her bag was swung over her shoulder and packed with the necessities as she left for the kitchen, actually finding pancakes sitting on the counter and plenty of coffee ready. He even offered to drive her to school, an offer she gladly took and within half an hour she was standing outside of the building, a text from Gwen informing her that she and Flash were inside by his locker. Which was perfect, because MJ needed to have a word with her friend.

"Morning." She greeted them with as much as a smile as she could attempt, Gwen's eyes widening when she saw her.

"MJ." The blonde frowned, slipping past a very confused Flash before enveloping the brunette in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry.. I called your dad and he told us you were there."

"Yeah. I mean - I... the guy pushed past me." MJ hadn't had a chance to even think about the realities of it all, too caught up in every other horrifying detail and a shudder ran through her body. "I was with him all night, but he says he's coming in."

"So soon?" Gwen blinked, her arms still around her best friend even as she pulled back. "I guess it's good though. He doesn't want to get caught up in it all, I'm guessing."

"Seems like it." MJ nodded, her gaze falling.

Flash shut locker quickly. "I'm missing something." He frowned, looking between them. "You're talking about Parker right - his uncle dying and everything? But why..." He trailed off. As much as he came off as pure musclehead, Flash could actually be pretty smart. That became evident as he saw MJ's face. "Your new boyfriend isn't from Felicity's school."

"Felicia." MJ corrected. "And no, he isn't. He's from here... it's Peter." She added, her eyes meeting Flash's as a range of emotions flowed through them. "And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't give him a hard time about it. He's dealt with you enough of you over the years, and I don't think you're that heartless."

Flash stared at her. He knew she was sincere and had always known that she wasn't going to give up on him. No matter how much of a dick he was, it had been MJ and Gwen who had known he wasn't just angry. "I.. I know. I wasn't planning on it." He replied meekly, feeling the effects of her somewhat calm-telling off.

"Please don't, Flash." Margot repeated gently, Gwen watching the look in Flash's eyes and moved away, eyebrows raising as the boy hesitated before stepping forward and hugging her.

"I'm sorry, MJ." Flash replied, words muffled in her hair before stepping away. A hand raised to the back of his neck. "I've got to go to class.. but see you at lunch?" He offered.

"Sounds good." Gwen's arm had returned to the position around MJ's shoulder as Flash walked away. He disappeared around the corner and she met her eyes. "How are you."

"I'm fine," Margot reassured her. "Honestly." She didn't need to mention that she felt utterly exhausted; that showed plainly on her face. But it wasn't about her. "You haven't seen Peter already, have you? I... I told him to text me when he arrived but I haven't seen him." Her eyes flashed with unbidden worry.

Gwen knew her best friend was in trouble. She had seen the anxiety rising the day before whilst spewing her worries about her father. But as much as MJ tried to keep things level, the lack of sleep and the fact she had seen her boyfriend's uncle die in front of them... things were no doubt going to be overwhelming. "MJ, he'll be here." The blonde promised. "We can go find Peter, then maybe-"

There was a crash of metal, the not-so unfamiliar sound of someone being pushed up against a locker. A crowd gathered instantly as students slowed in the corridors and the two girls hurried forward. In a - what could be shocking, if not for the actions of the day before - change of events, Peter was holding Flash against the lockers beside his, arms straight and unshaking.

Flash didn't struggle, his hands over Peter's wrists. Somehow he knew that he wouldn't be able to fight his way out. "It feels better, right?" His voice didn't shake but became tighter. "Look, your uncle died. I'm sorry. I get it." Peter's grip wavered and slowly, Flash slipped down the locker, Peter's head bowing. "I'm sorry. Okay?"

Peter's hands let go fully, dipping down to pick up his bag from the ground and slamming his locker door shut. He turned away, keeping his head down as he left Flash's side. MJ swallowed, offering a somewhat encouraging nod towards Flash before stepping away from Gwen.

He glanced up, for just a moment, a look of relief covering his expression when he saw her. "Peter," MJ muttered, her arms opening instinctively and he fell into them, head balanced on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry - I didn't... I didn't think."

"It's okay." She replied. "It's okay, don't worry. He doesn't want to hurt you." Slowly, pulling him further away from the crowds, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It's okay. We'll skip first period, it's okay." Constant reassurance left her lips as they walked, her arm remaining around him.

She would remain by his side for as long as he would allow her to, ensuring that he was alright and ready to talk whenever needed. And that she was there for him. Because there wasn't a doubt in her mind that she always would be, no matter how much anxiety she felt, or how overwhelmed she became.

MJ would be there. She was just that type of person.