Chapter Text
“Whoa…you okay?” The voice was…familiar. She couldn’t place it exactly, but the sound of it. The way they spoke. It was low, but somehow penetrating. She tried to process it, and realized that was the issue. Something about her recognized the voice, but when she tried to figure out why, the tone changed. Why did she recognize it? The harder she thought about it, the more her breathing sped up.
“I’ve got you, don’t worry,”they assured her, their hands squeezing her shoulders gently. She tried lifting her head up to look at them, but her stomach lurched again. It was like her brain didn’t want her to look. That made no sense. But then again, nothing made sense lately. She reasoned she’d better answer him once she got her shit together.
“M-Fine,” she mumbled, her eyes still screwed shut.
“You can open your eyes”
Watch the movie screen, there’s something I want to show you.
Her breathing picked up again. She tried to remember what she’d learned at therapy. Just think of a few things. What’s real right now. Their hands. Warm. Very Warm. They smelled like oranges and cinnamon. Churros? Her stomach spasmed again, and she slammed the urge to throw up down, her face scrunching up.
A hand grabbed her hand, putting her fingers on his wrist. She stiffened as her fingers picking up the staccato of their pulse. It was so fast…where had she felt that before? Her stomach swooped again, and she made a small noise, abandoning his pulse point to grab his hand tightly.
Because it was a guy, wasn’t it? He squeezed her hand again in reassurance before letting go to reach up and feel her forehead. She felt herself drooping forward, and he caught her, his hand pushing on her left knee, holding her upright with surprising ease. She moved her other hand to his right shoulder, trying to even her breathing. She realized she’d started to cry, and panicked, her eyes popping open.
This was not the image she wanted to show anyone, let alone a good samaritan in a park. Her pride and shame seemed to override her sense of self-preservation for a moment until he grabbed her hand again.
“Just breathe with me, ok?” His voice was softer this time. She nodded, spending the next few minutes taking slow breaths with him. She finally looked up a few minutes later, her eyebrows rising as she recognized his face. Brown hair, slightly curly. Brown eyes, staring at her in concern. He was wearing a different jacket, but it was him.
“Um…” she started, and he cut her off, talking quickly.
“You almost passed out- I can call an ambulance for you if you-“ his face was much more expressive than she remembered from days ago. He looked visibly shaken. She could reason that away as regular concern, right?
“Peter Parker, black coffee,” she responded softly, pointing at him, and he grimaced.
“Yeah…” he breathed, staring up at her, ”Sorry… I was just walking home from work and I saw you…”he was talking very quickly, and was still kneelling in front of her, Both hands had moved to her knees, and he was rubbing circles into her kneecaps with his thumbs. They locked eyes, and he stopped, a deer in headlights expression overtaking his face. It was…cute? She felt a soft throb behind her right eye, and wrinkled her nose, trying to ignore it.
He studied her the whole time, concern all over his face. He looked apologetic. She didn’t understand that.
“Why are you apologizing for catching me?” The words tasted like sandpaper on her tongue. He was somewhere else for a moment, and then snapped out of it when she put her hand over his, giving it a squeeze.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, bouncing on his heels. Her eyes fell to his hands, realizing he’d walked her down from the panic attack with a familiar method.
“You have panic attacks too?” The deer in headlights look returned for a split second, followed by alarm. She tilted her head to the side, staring down at him. He suddenly looked like he wished he could be anywhere else. She raised his eyebrows at him when their eyes locked, and he looked away quickly.
“N-No…my old boss used to get them all the time…”
A lie. Probably for good reason, but all the same…Peter was a puzzle.
“Veteran?” She pressed, her voice tinged with sympathy. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She got distracted for a moment, watching it, until he spoke again.
“S-Something like that,” Peter responded, his voice stilted. He wasn’t lying that time.
They stayed there for a moment as the snow picked up again, the sky darkening and the street lights coming on. The sky was darker but his face was still…she didn’t know how to describe that it looked like, looking down at him. He looked little more put together than last time, but not less frazzled. He looked sad. She figured frazzled must be part of his resting state. He had a vintage camera around his neck, and was bundled up for the weather, his cheeks pink from the cold.
“Do you have someone I can call for you? To help you home?”he ventured, and she shook her head, closing her eyes tightly, the words from the movie echoing in her head.
Every living creature on earth dies alone
She was not calling Ned. Or Betty. Or her dad. Or Darcy. She didn’t need to be coddled. Besides that, he seemed okay, if not overly concerned for her well being. Plus there was the fact that he looked like a beacon in the growing darkness. She likened him to a lighthouse. And that was ridiculous. She’d met the guy a total of one time. But he had a job (maybe), and he looked like he showered…and not like a serial killer. Her mind was made up.
“You’re not going to murder me and take photos as mementos, are you, Parker?” She said finally, opening her eyes to stare at him and he shook his head, his eyes wide.
“N-no,” he stuttered, and she managed a soft laugh. She was taller than him…he had to be harmless. It took her a moment to realize her headache had calmed to a dull throb. That must be a good thing, right? She could chase the good thing, and then she could sleep. Maybe without dreaming again.
“Are you hungry?” She questioned a moment later, His stomach grumbled in response. He looked down at it in annoyance. She poked him in the side without thinking, and he made a noise of mock outrage.
“Maybe,” he conceded finally, and she grinned. She liked puzzles. It was time to figure him out. She pointed at a diner on the corner, and he turned his head.
“Lead the way,” she held a hand out to him theatrically, surprised at how easily he helped her up. She wobbled a little bit, and he steadied her at her waist.
“Good?” He asked her, their eyes locking. It took him a moment to realize where his hands were, and he he moved them quickly to her shoulders.
“Is it okay if I-“ she grabbed the hand on her shoulder, shuffling closer to him until his other arm was around her waist again, steadying her.
“Course,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. Maybe from the cold?
It was freezing out, the wind picking up, and they’d gotten closer as they made their way towards the dinner, walking against the gust.
They ended up sitting next to each other on one side of a small booth, Michelle closest to the window.
“Don’t want you to fall over,” he reasoned, and she felt heat rising to her cheeks.
“Mmhmmm,” she said back, surprised that her voice was teasing. She didn’t tease. This was a new development. Was she flirting with him?
She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this. Their knees were like static charges, and whenever they touched… She didn’t know what her hypothesis was, but the familiarity he brought was startling. The safety. He looked down at his knees for a moment, a soft smile on his face. The waiter dropping off menus caused both of them to look up suddenly, their eyes locking again.
“So-“ Michelle ventured, turning her head to face him. Her hand was on her necklace, playing with the petals.
“That’s a pretty necklace,” Peter said. She could have sworn his eyes looked tender. Tender was not a word in her internal vocabulary.
‘It’s a black dahlia-or it was…I broke it, but I can’t-“ pain suddenly thrummed behind her eye again, and she ignored it.
‘Like the murder?” He questioned, their eyes meeting.
‘Yeah-’she breathed, her forehead crinkling. This was so confusing. The spell was broken again by the waiter.
“What can I get you?” The voice of the waiter was familiar too, and Michelle spoke before she could think about it.
“Uh, four grilled cheeses, four tomato soups, two fries, and two hot chocolates?” She said and then wrinkled her nose in confusion. What was that? Her temple twinged, but she ignored it again, forcing herself to turn back towards Peter.
“Sure-“ the waiter was already gone when she met Peter’s eyes. He looked, anguished.
“Are you okay?“ she questioned, and he nodded quickly, his eyes down and to the side again.
“Fine,” he said in response. His voice was strained.
Peter Parker was not okay. He didn’t give her time to think about it, though.
”What were you doing in this neck of the woods?” He added quickly, and she shrugged, stuffing her hands into her coat to try and quell the urge to overshare.
“I went to a movie…”she trailed off, and he poked her gently in the side. She looked at him in mock outrage, and he pressed his lips together, raising his eyebrows.
“What movie?” He asked finally, and she swallowed.
“Uh, Donnie Darko? It’s pretty old…they have this early 2000’s film festival going on at the place down the street, and…my therapist told me I need to get out more so I went…and it was fine but there was something about the ending and I just…“ she realized she was rambling, and stopped to take in the look on Peter Parker’s face as the waitress sat down the hot chocolates.
He was staring at her, but also through her, almost. She tilted her head to the side, and he followed her movement, his eyes focusing back on her.
“So what do you think it was?” He questioned, and she squinted at him for a moment. They stared at each other for a few more moments, the silence only broken by Peter grabbing his hot chocolate.
“What if you could go back in time, and take all those hours of pain and darkness and replace them with something better?” She told him, and he froze mid sip.
Michelle didn’t stop to consider how lines from this movie were stuck in her head like she’d watched it a million times. As far as she knew, it was the first time. She watched him swallow, setting his cup down as he tried to collect his thoughts. She didn’t even realize her hand had reached for his until she’d grabbed it. She watched him swallow again. It was like he was swallowing his urge to say something.
“Peter?” She ventured, and he searched her face for a moment, like he was looking at a map he didn’t understand.
“If you mess with time, it tends to mess back,” he told her. Their eyes locked again in a staring match. This went on until the food was dropped off, which seemed to diffuse the tension a bit.
Peter grabbed a fry as soon as the food was dropped off and dipped it in the soup.
She made a face, and he made one right back, so she grabbed a fry and dipped it I the soup. It was surprisingly good.
They ate in silence for few minutes, their knees occasionally touching under the table. This felt real, and normal, and bright. What felt even more familiar was Peter working through his food at a speed only rivaled by Gwen. She pushed her fries toward him, and his face reddened again. She decided she liked that.
“Sorry, I work three jobs, and I may have forgotten to eat lunch and breakfast,” he responded, and she bit back a concerned retort, opting for sarcasm.
“I’m honestly impressed you can eat this much. I’ve only ever seen one other person put back so many carbs in such a small amount of time” she quipped, pushing her fries again, “And stop apologizing” she added, watching his cheeks heat up again. She decided she liked embarrassing him.
“I have a fast metabolism,” he defended, and she bit back a laugh.
“I had my grilled cheese and half a serving of fries, so I’m fine. You can’t have my coca’” she said a minute later and he surprised her by grabbing her hands, their eyes locking again.
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he told her seriously, and she bit her lip, taking him in. His face moved from emotion to emotion like he was on a roller coaster. He looked surprised at his own audacity. She decided she had to know more about him.
“So…taking pictures is one of your jobs?” She asked, motioning to the camera on the table. He nodded quickly.
“I’m not exactly proud of the photos I’m taking…but I live alone. New York is…expensive. And-“ Michelle sensed the beginning of a rant.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad…’ he grimaced.
‘I take pictures of Spiderman for the Daily Bugle’ he told her, almost in a rush, as if saying the words themselves was painful. It was that bad. He hated Spiderman. And Spiderman had helped her before.
“Jameson is the worst-“he cut her off, his face serious.
‘I try to work with…Spiderman…’ his mouth caught on the word for a moment,’ To paint him in the best light….but Jameson…”
They were quiet for a moment, both working on their hot chocolates, Peter continuing to mow through all the food she had offered.
“What do you do when you’re not slinging donuts and coffee at angry New Yorkers’ he asked a second later, changing the subject.
‘School….I’m the president of Aca-Dec…I’m going to MIT in the fall,’ his face brightened,”Therapy…seeing random depressing movies on Tuesday afternoons…”
“Is the ending still bothering you?” He questioned, and she shrugged, crossing her arms, watching the people outside the window busy with their lives. The ending. Endings had always bothered her, as far as she was concerned. She added that to the growing list of things that were vaguely familiar, and decided he was worth sharing her secret with.
“Do you ever feel like you’ve been dropped in a life that doesn’t belong to you?” She asked him suddenly.
This time, he didn’t think before responding.
‘Maybe that is the point, that he didn’t belong,” Peter said, and stuffed the rest of his grilled cheese in his mouth, seemingly to quiet himself. The words felt like acid to the conversation. It was the first time he’d responded without trying to control his answer. So she decided to press on, anxiety building behind her chest.
“But why was he laughing?” She pressed, and Peter stilled, staring past her and out the window. She could see his reflection in the dark glass.
“Because he realized that removing himself from the equation was what saved everyone, in the end,” Peter said, with a note of finality in his voice.
Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood
“That’s very fatalist of you,” she found herself saying,”Were you born this dark or was it-“ He cut her off, his voice flat.
“Acquired.” She studied him again. She could have sworn his eyes were shiny, staring out at the weather.
“Sorry,” she said a minute later, and he shook his head, clearing his throat.
“It’s okay…I uh…I don’t have any family…so I guess its easy to think about self sacrificing antics-“
“No family?” She said, “But you’re-“
“I’m almost 18,” he responded tightly. His arms were crossed. They were interrupted by the server again.
She’d pushed her money at the server before Peter could, and they’d ended up outside, staring up at the weather. She didn’t want the night to be over, even though she believed, as Betty had said in the past, that she’d fumbled the bag by interrogating the first guy she’d found attractive in a while. His voice broke her out of her thought spiral, and she glanced up, their eyes meeting.
“Can I..uh…” he gestured vaguely in front of them, “ walk you home?” He added, and she nodded quickly. Probably too quickly. What was going on with her?
Her hand reached out, grabbing his. He froze for a moment before lacing their fingers together. He was warm at her side, a calming presence, as they walked down the street, their hands interlocked. They didn’t talk, but she felt more settled than she had in weeks. The panic about being alone in her house set in before they’d even turned the corner to her street. She felt like he noticed, too. He seemed to be just as observant as she was, if not more so.
She swallowed, and stared up at her door for a minute before making her choice. Technically her therapist had told her to make new friends.
“What were your plans for tonight?” She asked him, turning to face him, and he shrugged, glancing down at his shoes.
“GED studying…” he said , shoving his hands in his pockets, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Do you like studying with company? My dad is out of town for a few days and I have the house to myself…”she trailed off, and he seemed to consider her for a moment.
Three hours, a package of Oreos and two more hot chocolates later, they were sitting on her living room floor, a fire going in the hearth and Peter’s study material spread out in front of them.
“Promise you won’t let this give you a big head?” She questioned, and he stared at her, confused for a moment,”You’re absurdly smart, Peter. This case is going to be a cake walk…have you considered signing up for the SAT and ACT?” He frowned.
“Absurdly?” He joked quietly, and she whacked him on the arm.
“I’m not kidding, you would fit in at my school perfectly…”a particularly loud temple throb made her breath catch.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly, and she nodded, closing her eyes tightly for a moment to regain her bearings, leaning against the back of the couch.
“I’m not sure if college is in the picture for me…I’m barely getting by as it is,” he added.
“I refuse to accept that future for you,” she said firmly, and he squinted at her for a moment.
“You know you can’t save everyone…”he said before he could stop himself.
“How would you know that?” She asked.
“I try not to think so positively,” he reasoned, wringing his hands.
Her hand found his in the semi-darkness, squeezing it tightly, pulling on it so he came closer.
“You don’t always have to be disappointed,” she said.
“Michelle,” he said her name quietly.
“My friends call me MJ” she told him. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark.
“MJ,” he ventured. She could feel his pulse jumping, “I-“
His phone alarm had broken the silence as they stared at each other.
“I have to go to work..I stock this store in Queens on Wednesday nights,” he explained, letting go of her hand. She noticed that he seemed reluctant as he picked up his things, shoving them into a worn backpack.
“Peter?” She managed, concerned that the room was getting darker than it had before. He paused in the doorway. The light was following him. He was like a beacon. She jotted her number down before she could convince herself not to, getting up to chase him to the door.
“Yeah?” He asked, surprised when she’d shoved a piece of paper with her number on it into his hand.
“If you need more help studying,” she’d reasoned, her eyes trained on the blush that lit up his face at her words.
“Sure,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth turned up, pocketing the piece of paper.
__________________________________________________________
Gwen was cold. She never remembered being this cold before the spider bite. She rubbed her arms, fighting a shiver. She’d been waiting for him to leave the store for hours. It was almost 6am, and she was ready to give up and go home. But her desire to help kept her glued to the rooftop, watching Peter put up a variety of webs.
“Do you see what I see?” A voice broke through her internal monologue, and she rolled her eyes. Of course he was awake.
“This isn’t your comm line” Gwen responded, watching Peter continue to spin up webs.
“I’m here to contact you about your car’s extended warranty,” the voice sassed.
“You guys have those calls here too? So annoying,” she said under her breath, watching Peter reach into his backpack and pull out multiple cameras. What was he doing?
“We all have the same mission directive,” another voice reasoned,” And letting him see the kid keeps him from doing something foolish”
“Foolish?” The mans voice sounded exasperated, “Okay, little miss tried to steal a quin-jet last week…”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it. Quin-jets are invisible. You, are not”
“Technically I’m a ghost,” the man said conversationally.
“We can’t just ambush him. We need to learn his new routine…it’s going to come as a shock if you just pop up like nothing-“
“Guys…Is he doing a… photoshoot?” She asked in disbelief, and watched, her jaw slack, as the cameras went off multiple times as Peter swung around the intersection, posing.
“Some might call that narcissistic behavior…” the man joked.
“Can’t imagine where he picked that up,” the woman’s voice said immediately, the sarcasm evident.
“Aren’t you going to talk to him?” The man asked, and Gwen thought for a moment.
“I don’t think I should…what if he’s selling them to pay rent or something,” Gwen mused, “This Peter is broke too, right?”
“He had a college fund until he went and got himself erased,” the man groused, “And now he’s a spider of the night…ouch!” It was clear the woman had whacked him on the back of the head.
“I agree with Gwen…let’s let him finish his glamour shots,” Gwen snorted before she could stop herself, and covered her mouth. Shit.
Peter had frozen mid pose, staring in her direction.
“But you’re so close,” the man said, not realizing Peter had heard her, “And I’m bored,” he added, a whine in his voice. She could almost feel him crossing his arms through the connection.
“Fri, disconnect call,” she said quickly, and heard the start of an outraged guffaw before feeling a tap on her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed him moving. She turned around slowly.
“Oh hey,” she said casually, leaning against the edge of the rooftop as if she did this every day.
“Why are you following me?” His voice was so young. He sounded, exasperated.
“Um…I don’t know if you noticed, but-“ she mentioned to herself, and then to him.
He crossed his arms, staring at her silently. This went on for over two minutes.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” She said finally, crossing her arms right back, “I’m taller than you,” she added, I probably didn’t used to be, but-“ he interrupted her.
“You broke into the lab where I got bitten…I’m not stupid. I watch the news,” Peter countered, his arm crossed.
“Why would you choose this?” he added. It was clear he’d lost the joy in his abilities. She hoped her Peter hadn’t become the same way.
‘It’s…complicated” she responded.
“How did you get access to a fabricator?” he added, an edge to his voice.
“I got hired at Stark Industries in R&D…” Gwen reasoned she was being semi-truthful here. She did work at Stark Industries.
“Why?” He asked again.
“Because I needed to find you,” she told him honestly. That’s how this had all started.
“I think you can understand that I’m not especially trusting of people that seem to know a lot about me and won’t tell me anything about themselves…please don’t follow me again,” Peter moved to leave, and she closed her eyes tightly for a minute. This was not going well. She only had one other card to play, so she did it.
“Peter, stop,” she said finally, and he froze, his back turned towards her.
“Who are you?” He questioned, his voice low.
“I..I slipped through during the battle, I think…I think someone was here that I…”she didn’t know how to explain this.
“Who are you?” Peter repeated, and she swallowed.
“My name is Gwen,”he turned around, staring at her.
“She was my MJ” Peter whispered to himself.
“My MJ?” it was clear he didn’t think that she’d heard him. There was no way, absolutely no way that her new friend, the girl she had saved…
“Gwen…you…”she knew what he was going to say.
“I am also not stupid…I know why I’m here,” she told him before he could say the words, “I don’t think deliberately seeking out Spider powers was my finest hour, but Peter didn’t exist here…you existed, but nothing else matched. I didn’t know how to find you. And I thought that if there was any chance…at all, that I could go back…”she trailed off.
‘I don’ t know how to send you back…”Peter responded, “I don’t even know how you got here-neither will Steven. He cast the spell on himself, too..”Peter trailed off.
“A spell?” That was new information “I’m under the impression everyone used to know who you are…but you don’t exist…its one of the reasons I…” she gestured to herself.
“I can’t talk to him.You don’t understand what would happen if he reversed anything that was done that night…the multiverse…”Peter trailed off, sinking down against the wall.
“The multiverse is real?”she realized, her mind racing.
“Gwen…”
“What if I found the guy…maybe he could…” Peter cut her off.
“I don’t know what you’d be going back to…I cured the others, but there was no guarantee that they would…”
“No guarantee they wouldn’t still die?” She asked him, and he nodded shortly.
“He told us about you…do you think he’d want you to waste this second chance?” Peter asked.
“I-“ Gwen closed her eyes for a minute,” I think he’d want me to be safe…”
“You should focus on that…being around any of us is like putting a target on your back…we ruin almost everything we touch.” Peter said.
“Peter, you don’t have to do this alone…” she responded, and he stared at her.
“I deserve this. The power we have comes at a cost…”Peter sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her.
“I don’t believe that,” Gwen responded.
“You don’t even know me, Gwen…”she swallowed, “I have class at 8. I have to go,”
“Peter-“she said softly, and he ignored her, quickly swinging to grab his cameras. She watched him numbly.
She felt frozen, her mind focused on what this Peter knew about her. He had been here. He had talked about her. Part of her wanted to chase this Peter, demand to know how he was.
“Sunrise is in 45 minutes, Miss Stacy,” Friday’s voice startled her. She needed to move.
“Sure, Friday, thank you,” she said finally, turning to start her long swing back home.
How much time had it been for him? Weeks? Days? Years?
She climbed in her window in a fog, pulling her mask off and throwing it on the ground. She couldn’t get out of her suit fast enough. A few minutes later, she stood in the shower, letting the warm water try to loosen her muscles. She went through her routine in a fog, She couldn’t stop thinking about what led to this. The last moments of her life, the feeling in the pit of her stomach in the milliseconds where she realized she couldn’t survive the fall. The look on his face had been haunting her since she’d been unceremoniously dumped in this universe.
Why was she even trying? What was the point. Who was to say that at any moment she’d be sucked right back, falling, screaming…
She didn’t realize she’d punched the bathroom mirror until it was already over. Her hand was throbbing, pieces of mirror stuck in her hand and scattered across the room. She was angry.
“Miss Stacey, would you like me to alert-“she cut Friday off, her voice shaking.
“No, Friday” she breathed, staring at her hand as it started to heal. She wasn’t equipped to handle this. Peter was right. Why did she think she could?
She barely heard the door open, staring at the blood on her hands, and jumped when someone lifted her up.
“We need to get the glass out,” the woman’s voice was soft, helping her sit on the edge of her bed.
She pulled a first aid kit from a drawer in the bathroom.
“I-..how did you get here so fast?” She questioned.
“I thought you might need a friend...” she worked quickly, pulling the shards of glass out of her hand, cleaning the wounds, and wrapping it in gauze, “I brought some breakfast, and some wine,” she added.
“I’m not 21,” Gwen said. The absurdness of the sentence hit her quickly.
“We’re dead, Gwen. We can do whatever we want.”
_____________________________________________
A few days after her run in with Peter, the stable things had stopped working. Michelle realized, frustrated, that she hadn’t gotten his number. Maybe she’d written it down wrong when she handed it to him? He made her nervous. He hadn’t called or texted, and she hadn’t seen him on the street or while she was at work.
So she’d started chasing it again. Darcy and James, in particular, had been gung-ho about helping her unravel the mystery. She reasoned that she could have friends. She could. She could have friends that didn’t know her before. That couldn’t pity her. She wasn’t sure she could even stomach the expression on Ned’s face if she told him she was hanging out with the Winter Soldier and a world-renowned astrophysicist three times a week, or that she might have a crush on the weird guy from Peter Pans that drank black coffee.
Betty and Ned, as disgustingly sweet as they were, were equally as gross when staring at her in pity. And she’d drawn them pitying her at least three times in the last month. So she had Darcy and James.
They were at her apartment again, spending Saturday going through a game Darcy had called “Guess Who”. She was currently staring at an African American Man with an eyepatch. He didn’t look very pleasant to be around. She instantly disliked him.
“Does he always have an eyepatch?” Michelle deadpanned, and Darcy tilted her head to the side.
“Yes, always,”her eyes trained on Michelles face for any kind of reaction. Michelle thought harder. It was like swimming against a current.
“I don’t like that guy and I don’t know why,” Michelle finally said, wincing, and James snorted beside her on the couch.
“I don’t either,” he told Michelle seriously, taking a sip of his beer.
“There is literally no reason you’d know who this guy is…he’s been off world for a while now,”Darcy said.
“So we’ll add him to the list then. This web of headaches has to lead to something, right? Some sort of commonality…” they had lined up pictures in rows on Darcy’s coffee table.
“Why don’t you go lay down for a bit- theres a free room at the end of the hallway.”
“Sure,” Michelle said quietly, walking towards the large window-seat, looking up at the painted stairs and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Darcy didn’t have kids. But there were signs of a child all over the apartment. It wasn’t her place to ask questions. But she was curious. It was impossible not to be.
There were two rooms at the end of the hallway, and she reasoned that the one with the letter M was the best suited to her needs. The door was open slightly, and Michelle pushed on it, taking in the light filtering through the windows. The room was a light periwinkle with white wood trim. A four poster bed was in the middle of the room, and a picture of Darcy and a small girl, her hair braided, a toothless grin on her face, took up the entire frame.
The room was clean, but musty. It smelled like it hadn’t been used for a while. She clicked on the light by the bed and sat on the edge, taking in the stuffed animals, pink chemistry set, and periodic table of the elements on the wall. Whose room was this? Michelle was sure she knew the little girl’s face from somewhere…
A dull throb exploded across her temple, and she made a mental note with the last of her energy. Girl with pigtails, must investigate.
She curled up on the bed, and closed her eyes, exhaustion taking her over. When she opened her eyes again, she was by a lake. She could tell it was early fall. The leaves had started to fall, and there was a hint of cold in the air.
“It was no problem, May…I know all of you have had a rough go of things, and I thought you might like to come out for the day…this was actually Morgan’s idea..." she saw someone she didn't recognize, and Pepper Potts? Before she could process what she was looking at, someone tugged on her hand, and she glanced down, realizing it was a pint sized someone.
“Is Petey okay?” the voice was quiet, hesitant. She glanced over at the dock, seeing a boy sitting on the edge, his head down. She knew he wasn’t.
She could feel the sun on her face, the slight breeze, and the little girls hand in hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before swallowing and responding.
“He’s going through a lot,” she said finally, and the little girl nodded in understanding, like she was not a stranger to sadness. She looked too young to be sad.
“Would a churro help?” She looked down at the little girl, who had a mischievous look on her face.
She’d pulled her by the hand to a barn, and motioned for her to press her hand against the panel.
“Miss Jones, what is the purpose of your visit to the barn?” She’d jumped, and the girl had giggled, a hand over her mouth.
“Churros!” The girl interrupted her. Michelle bit back a laugh.
“Is there a churro machine in the lab?” She questioned.
“Affirmative,” the computerized voice responded.
“Can you walk me through how to use it?” She asked the nothingness as the door popped open.
“Absolutely,” the Irish accented voice responded.
The little girl clapped her hands together in a very familiar way before grabbing her hand again, pulling her forward into the darkness of the barn. She tried to grasp onto the threads of the memory, but it was already gone, slipping away like she was going backwards on a roller coaster.
Her eyes snapped open suddenly, staring at James, who was crouched beside her.
“Sorry,” he breathed, holding her phone up. Her alarm was going off for work. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment before glancing over at the photo.
“Bucky, do you know who that little girl is?” She asked, regaining her bearings. His face didn’t move. She raised an eyebrow, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
“That’s Morgan Stark…Tony and Pepper’s daughter,” he said finally, staring at the door for a moment.
“Is this her room?” She questioned, and James swallowed.
“I wouldn’t bring it up in front of Darcy,” he told her, handing her her cell phone.
“O-Ok,” she said, following him out into the hallway, where a cup of coffee awaited her. Darcy was holding it, bouncing nervously on her feet. Michelle had never seen her so twitchy before. She tilted her head to the side and Darcy took a step towards her.
“Do you have Christmas plans?” Darcy questioned, handing her the mug, and Michelle grimaced, being guided to the table where the smell of brownies invaded her nose.
“We don’t believe in commercial holidays at the Chateau Jones,” Michelle told her, popping a piece of brownie in her mouth. Darcy and James shared a look,”My dad has this trip to his publishers every Christmas, but this time it starts during my finals…so I was planning on just holing up at home…maybe going to my friend Ned’s for Christmas Eve…we always watch Star Wars…”
It crossed her mind that she didn’t really like Star Wars. She wasn’t sure when the tradition had started. She squinted at the tinge of pain across her temple.
Darcy’s voice broke her out of her thought spiral.
“You could hang out here for some of the break, if you wanted? I have the space…”she nodded. That was probably wise. What if something happened to her while she was all alone? Gwen was going to be out of town, and she didn’t want to spend her entire break with Betty, Ned, and the others on her Aca-Dec team staring at her like she was made of glass.
“My friend is coming to help me study for my last night of finals, but then I don’t have plans until Christmas Eve,” she reasoned, and Darcy smiled.
“Great, so it’s settled then,” she told her, clapping her hands together.
“I don’t like Christmas either” Bucky told her when Darcy left the room.
“Does she go overboard?” Michelle questioned, and Bucky snorted.
“I grew up during the depression…anything for me is overboard,” he reminded her.
Her phone pinged, and she glanced down at the unknown number, unlocking her phone quickly.
Hey, MJ, this is Peter…from the Park?
Her cheeks warmed a little
Peter Parker from the Park and Peter Pans?
She put her phone down, missing the way James was staring at her. When her phone dinged again, she picked it up quickly.
Ha-ha…do you think you have some time to help me study this weekend? I signed up to take the test the first week of January. Im sorry I didn’t reach out earlier- I lost my phone and had to save up for new one…
He’d saved her number. She grinned to herself, biting her lip.
Sure- I’m supposed to be at work in a bit but I’m at a friends right now, but could meet you after?
Her fingers typed a response before she could think through it. He responded almost as fast.
Would it be okay if I came to get you and went with you to work?
It was not until after she closed her phone, after they had settled on him getting her about hour from now, that she realized she was in a ratty sweatshirt, her hair a mess, and she didn’t have her gloves.
“Do you need a ride back to your place before work? We can call a car for you…the weather-“ Michelle was staring at her phone.
“Someone’s coming to get me at six,” she said finally, just realizing that Peter would have to go through James to get her out of the apartment.
“Someone?” Darcy asked, confused, and Michelle looked up at her.
“Someone I met while I was working…he uh…he’s studying for his GED and we’ve hung out a few times…and I basically rolled out of bed to take the subway here today and I-“ she looked at Darcy, slightly panicked.
“I know you’re tall, but I still have some of my friend Jane’s things…she’s at least your size in tops,” she said, firmly in solution mode, grabbing Michelle’s hand to pull her towards her room.
Darcy’s room was simple. A large bookcase and desk with a built in chalkboard filled one corner of the room. Her closet was equally simple. Michelle was drawn to pictures on her fireplace mantle, staring at pictures of Darcy and a little girl, Darcy at Christmas, and Darcy with Steve Rogers? She squinted at the photo for a minute. Natasha Romanoff was there too. Interesting.
Darcy pulled down a box and dusting off the top, pulling out a few coats, hats, and sweaters. Michelle turned to face her.
“Doesn’t Jane need…” Darcy got a strange look on her face.
“No, she’s uh…she’s in London right now…I just saved this stuff from her apartment after-“ the rest of the sentence sat unspoken.
“Oh,” Michelle said simply, “What do I do with my hair?” She added a minute later.
Darcy held up an oversized maroon marbled sweater with a mock turtleneck, nodding to herself before pushing the sweater towards her.
“I can braid your hair if you want?” Darcy responded, and Michelle nodded.
“I used to nanny...” She explained a few minutes later, finishing off two French braids as Michelle sat on the floor in front of her.
“The pictures of the little girl?” Michelle questioned, unable to stop herself. Darcy nodded shortly.
“Did she survive the-“
“It was while everyone was gone,” Darcy said quickly, her mind somewhere else. She didn’t notice James watching her from the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed.
A few minutes later, she was pacing nervously, her hands in borrowed gloves, wearing one of Darcy’s coats.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Darcy mused, a grin on her face.
James eyes were trained on the door, and when the knock came, he was the one to answer it.
“Hi,” Peters eyes were wide, staring at him.
“Peter, was it?” James questioned, and Peter nodded sharply. He was holding a drink carrier in one hand. Hot chocolate.
“Yep, that’s me. Peter,” Michelle stifled a laugh, stepping out from behind him.
“We’re just going to study while I tend to drunk and hungry donut seekers, dad,” she joked to James, and smiled at Peter for a moment.
“Hi,” she said softly, and he grinned, his cheeks pink again.
“Hi,” he said back, handing her the warm cup. She took a long sip, closing her eyes.
“I’ll text you later to make sure you know I’m home safe,” she told Darcy, who nodded, grabbing James arm, practically manhandling him further into the apartment.
“Have fun studying!” She said, closing the door behind them.
“Don’t do a background check on him,” Darcy said after the door closed, and James shot her a look.
“You’re good with kids,” he said in response, walking over to clean up their dishes from the table.
“She’s not a kid,” she responded, and he ran a hand through his hair.
“I just meant-“ she shook her head quickly.
“I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” she said shortly, staring past James to the pictures on the wall.
“I had a younger sister,” he continued, moving to the sink to start rising off their plates,” Rebecca...” Darcy cleared her throat, swallowing thickly, but didn’t respond, walking towards the kitchen and making a beeline for the wine bottle. His hand covered hers.
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to maybe just reach out to them?” he asked finally. She took her hand off the bottle, resting her palms on the countertop and turning to face him,”Michelle asked about her…about Morgan…I think she might know her too-“Darcy cut him off.
“You didn’t hear what he said,” she said finally, an edge to her voice.
“I know what it’s like to lose family…”his hands covered hers, and she looked up at him, her eyes glassy.
“Darce-“he said, reading out to wipe a tear off her face.
“I’m not part of their family,” she said, closing her eyes tightly and trying to stop the tears.
His phone went off, and he sighed, breaking away from her, reading the text.
“Sam-“ he started, and she cleared her throat.
“I’ll be okay,” Darcy promised, wiping a tear from her face quickly, “Go be a super hero” he flinched.
“It’s just a meeting…It’s not a mission,” he said softly, and she nodded again, her mind somewhere else.
“Hey,” he whispered, touching her chin with his finger to make her look up.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Darcy promised, her voice wobbly.
“I gotta go…I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he kissed her forehead, and left her in the kitchen, staring out the window at the rain.
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