Chapter Text
Find Peter.
Two words. Two cryptic words written in her cheap ballpoint pen on the palm of her hand, no explanations for two words that when separated had a meaning. The emotions that Michelle Jones- Watson felt when she read those words were… confusing to say the least, frustrating even.
Her head throbbed with an unexplained head wound, aided and wrapped in bandages and ointments, but she couldn’t help but stare at the fading ink, unaware of what or who it was that was asking to be found. It was black ink, the kind of ink she used to doodle people in crisis. And New York, Queens, was filled with people in crisis. She loved it, sketching people, having already filled seven sketch books.
And yet, most of her books were empty when she returned.
She had no memory of what took place at the statue of Liberty, or how the words even appeared there- thanks to the concussion she had. It was her handwriting for sure- written frantically as if she was running out of time. Heck, the only thing to confirm it even happened was her friend Ned, who was now officially babbling at a speed that could only be described as eccentric, sipping at the shitty coffee and holding onto the cup like it was his lifeline, like it would somehow clue him about their situation.
She tried to pay attention, she really did, but she lost him at "tingling hands", the only thing in her mind being those two simple, three syllable words, only distracted by her manager’s yelling in the background.
Find Peter.
Who the hell was Peter?
Five words that echoed in her head like a relentless rhythm left her wondering, what was she supposed to do now? Find Peter? Peter who? Last she checked there were 9,116 Peters in New York. Sure, MJ loved mysteries, but she was a fan of mysteries about dead people, not people who mysteriously disappeared and then appeared on the palm of her unattended hand, written in cheap ballpoint ink that was fading faster than the New York wind, or J Jonah Jameson’s babbling about the “masked menace”.
The New Yorkers had stopped taking his words seriously, and the ones that hadn't? Well deep down, even they knew what spider-man stood for. Even villains like Wilson Fisk.
Her train of thoughts now interrupted with Ned's loud voice bringing her back with a vicious throb of her head, she tilted her head at him as he said, "Hey, we should be roommates!"
"I don't think that's allowed," MJ commented offhandedly, reaching for a stale donut and throwing one at him, which he caught easily and made a face as he chomped on it. She looked at the ink on her hand, it had been weeks now, and yet every day, she inked over the words using the same ball pen, hoping upon hope that words would help jog her memory.
(And if she hit her head so hard that it gave her amnesia, she was still sceptical about what happened after the Statue of Liberty. Why were only parts of her life missing? And how did they still involve Ned?)
"Why not?" He asked, scrunching his nose and sticking his tongue to lick the filling dripping from the donut.
"Because you're a dude and I'm not." She shrugged, "MIT will gain a bad rep if their students end up pregnant."
"W-what, I, MJ! " Ned whined, a dark flush coating his cheeks as she stared at him dryly, a smile twitching on her lips,"first of all ew. You and Me? Never happening."
"I'm messing with you." She chuckled, sifting through the cups on the counter, sparing glances at her friend who had now opened another booklet for his Lego death star, all while babbling why he and MJ would not be compatible,"don't knock it 'fore you rock it."
He may be a nerd who still played with Legos, despite being only a few weeks away from being a legal adult, but she still found it endearing.
"Okay first of all, no." He nodded, looking at her as seriously as he could while holding packets of Lego.
"Why not?" She smirked, raising her eyebrows at him.
"Well- because… because , because what if there's someone out there?" He whined, flush coating his cheeks.
She felt something shift inside her when she heard him ask that question, thanking the lack of business so that she could be left with her pondering as to why exactly she found the feeling familiar and warm.
"Have you been watching Romcoms again?" She snickered, "someone out there? Yeah no, I'm good."
"But what if? One day you have to get close to someone."
I don't have much luck, when it comes to getting close to people.
It’s a work in progress.
"Thanks for the advice, grandma." She said dryly, looking at Ned as he rolled his eyes.
"Just saying."
Going back to her activity, she forgot about what was on her mind for a moment, only looking up when she heard Ned curse.
In all the years she had known the loser, Ned had never once cursed, claiming that his Lola would kill him if she heard him utter a "shit", and that she would know, somehow. Something about being a terrible liar and the facial expression of an impressionist.
"What's wrong? Did you lose a piece?" She asked, amused as he looked at his hands with a weird expression. His fingers twitched a little, and it must be the concussion because she swore she saw a few sparks every time he did that.
"Did you see that? MJ did you see that??" Ned exclaimed, pointing at his left hand with his right.
“See what?” MJ said, trying to sound casual as she looked at her friend, who was frantically making gestures with his hand.
“I told you the tingles in my hand had something to do with magic!” He exclaimed, expression changing into one of confusion and excitement at the same time.
“Um, no? No you never told me that.” She said, standing by the counter as she stared at his hands with intrigue.
“I didn’t?” tilting his head like a puppy, he looked at her and this time with more confusion said, “I didn’t, did I?”
The deja vu she felt earlier returned this time, stronger than before, her insides feeling hollow and raw as if she was… missing something . Missing a part of her that she didn’t know she needed. Like an appendix, or something. She wasn't great at analogies, but she knew that not everybody felt like they were missing something in their life.
Something that even MIT acceptance letters or hundreds of Lego sets couldn't fill, only opening a more gaping hole in her chest as if the feeling of happiness these two particular things brought was… wrong.
She knew Ned felt the same, she saw him sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking. She saw him look lost, looking for someone he didn't know of. A stranger, probably. Which was weird. Why would you try to find a stranger without knowing who to look for?
Find Peter .
Could this be the same Peter? Could they be missing the same person and not know that? Not knowing who he was and that he might be one of the nine thousand one hundred and sixteen Peters in New York, not knowing they were looking for him?
Dismissing the feeling, she went back to arranging the donuts in a clean row, just before she heard the jingle of the front door open.
And that's when she saw him, her brain short circuiting at the sight of him yet not supplying who he was, but he was a he nevertheless, a ball of energy with fluffy brown curls and worn down jacket, brown eyes filled with sadness, six words slipping out of his mouth that stopped her from distracting herself from whatever she was doing.
"Hi, my name is Peter Parker."
Find Peter.
Hiding the words under her sleeves, she got a good look at the stranger, ignoring Ned- who was stock still now, staring at the stranger in front of them. One time is an incident, two is a coincidence.
That’s what this was, a coincidence.
There were nine thousand one hundred and sixteen Peter’s in New York, after all, and yet, here he was, introducing himself with his full name like he meant for Michelle to know. Like he wanted her to know his full name. Weird.
“You’re probably the only person who’s ordered a coffee by saying their full name.” Michelle said, handing him the scalding cup of coffee as he continued to stare at her, eyes travelling down to her black dahlia necklace and then back up again.
He had that grin, the same grin he had as he entered the coffee shop, one random shithole of a coffee shop, looking at her like she was something wonderful, something worth spending four dollars of shitty coffee and stale donuts post christmas on, clutching the scalding cup of shitty coffee to his chest as if trying to bask in the warmth of it, still looking at her like she was the best thing he’s ever seen. As cheesy as it sounded, it made her feel something in her chest, a familiar kind of warmth that if anyone asked, she would deny.
Michelle Jones- Watson rarely smiled at strangers. Especially creepy strangers who introduced themselves with their full names, but she didn’t mind smiling at this one. She didn’t mind watching him retreat, surreptitiously trying to throw the coffee in the garbage while still clutching the cup in his hand, probably one of those who kept their “firsts” as souvenirs.
She knew the coffee was bad, she found it repulsive herself, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by this curly haired stranger.
And she smiled, she smiled at his retreating figure and she smiled as she clutched the broken necklace around her neck, feeling the rivulets and indents on her fingers, the edge of the cheap glass of the necklace bringing back the strong feeling of deja vu.