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Michelle tossed in her bed for the third time that night. She couldn't sleep. No matter what she did, her eyes refused to shut and her brain refused to relax. She even tried reading one of her lesser interesting books in a feeble attempt to coax the sleep into her system and still, nothing. She sighed deeply and sat up in her bed, the quilt slipping from her shoulders and resting around her midriff. She reached over the night stand, turning on her bedside lamp as she grabbed her phone. Punching in her password, she pressed on the phone icon once it was unlocked. No missed calls. No new messages. She looked at the number in brackets by his name. 8. 8 times she'd tried to call him with no reply.
It was now 12am and the dance had been over for at least 2 hours. Flash had invited her to an after party at his place but she declined, obviously. Why would she spend her time with that egocentric goldfish unless it was mandantory i.e. working together on the decathlon team. That was time enough. Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, she hovered over Peter's number before clicking it and waiting for him to answer, knowing he probably wouldn't. If he hadn't answered the last 8 calls or replied the previous 5 voicemails, he surely wasn't going to chirp hello to a 9th.
"Hey, it's Peter...Parker. Peter Parker, that's me. Yeah...leave a message."
"Hey Parker it's me, Michelle. I've already said this before but you left the homecoming dance early looking pretty shaken, I'm worried about you. Not that I care or anything, you know I'm just- well I hope you're okay. It would kinda suck if you're not because I need- uh, the decathlon team needs you. Although you're a flake, you're a smart flake, not smarter than me though, remember that. Anyways, call me when you get this. Bye loser."
Michelle hung up and ran her hands through her brown curls exasperatedly. Why was she so sappy and sounding like she cared for Peter? For all she knows he's safe at home tucked in bed with a Star Wars plush toy. Again, not that she actually cared. That's what she tells herself whenever her brain tried to remind her of the fact that she'd been crushing on the (annoyingly) cute brown eyed boy since the bonfire at the end of Freshman year when her sleeve stupidly caught fire and he'd been the only one kind enough to help her put it out. He'd even complimented the design on her shirt afterwards and had given her a smile warmer than the heat radiating from the bonfire and Michelle was glad the glow of the red and yellow flames were behind her so he couldn't see the light pink tint that spread across her high cheek bones.
Michelle Jones doesn’t blush.
She wanted to believe Peter was okay but something inside her was telling her he wasn’t. And she felt as though for her to be able to sleep tonight, she needed to know he was fine. God this crush was annoying. And such work.
She called again. Same ringtone.
"Parker, I'm coming over. Don't ask why I know where you live, just be at the door in 15 minutes. I wanna make sure you're fine, I mean I'm just trying to be a good friend."
Keep telling yourself that MJ.
"Uh so yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye."
She looked at the time. 12:15am. What was she thinking? He's definitely going to know something is up if she's showing up at his door at midnight to make sure he's okay. But she knew she wasn't going to rest until she found out so she rose from the bed and quickly pushed her legs into some jeans and her feet into her sneakers. Luckily, her parents were away for a week on business so there was no one at home to question it when she locked the front door behind her, wrapping her hoodie around her thin frame as the cold bitter night wind blew around her. She plugged her earphones into her phone and pushed the buds in her ears before shoving her fingers in her pockets for warmth.
"Hi Siri. Call dweeb number 2." She waited for the stop sign across the street as the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey dipshit, meet me at the deli Peter likes to buy his lunch from in 5 minutes."
"Michelle?" Ned groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It's 12am."
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock."
Rolling her eyes, she crossed the street, looking both left and right for any oncoming vehicles.
"Michelle, I'm not coming out now. What the heck am I supposed to tell my parents?"
"I dunno, think of something loser.”
"I'm tired. The Homecoming dance wore me out."
"Ned, we sat on the bleachers drinking strawberry punch for at least three quarters of the night."
"I just want to sleep." He groaned again.
"Fine, whatever. Just tell me where Peter lives."
"Why do you need to know where Peter lives?“ Ned inquired with suspicion.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you star-dork. Just tell me what I need to know.”
“No. Not until you tell me why you want Peter’s address.”
“Ugh fine,” she gave in, leaning against a nearby lampost. “I’m worried about him okay? He left the homecoming dance in a hurry and he didn’t look too good and I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Umm, he’s…I think he’s fine. May just wanted him to-”
“You’re lying.” Michelle stated blankly.
“What?”
“I can hear you chewing away at your fingers, the tell tale sign you’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?”
Suddenly, there was a loud noise in the alleyway across the street. At first, MJ thought it was just a stray cat but she heard the noise again, and a groan.
Cats don’t groan. Not like that.
“Ned, I’ll call you back.”
“Mich-” She hung up the phone and placed it in her back pocket before taking out her pepper spray. She never left the house without it, you never know when some low-life punk may decide to try his hand and mug you in the street. It was New York after all.
Cautiously, she crossed the road keeping her eye on the slowly moving shadow. She peered into the alleyway and saw someone under the low lighting of the half moon, lying on the ground.
“Oh my god.” She rushed over to them, unable to identify the individual yet and knelt over the body.
“Are you okay?” She placed her hand around the chest of the person and turned them over so their back rested on her thigh, their head on her palm. Half covering their face was a red mask, with some sort of weird googles where the eyes should be. This seemed very familiar to her but she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen it before.
Her curiosity drove her to pull the mask off and she almost gasped and dropped the boy when she saw his face, illuminated in the dim moonlight.
“Peter?” The boy open his eyes, no wider than the slit of a pin and peered into hers.
“Who are you?” He croaked, clutching his stomach in pain.
“Fucking hell, Peter.” She sighed, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “It’s me, Michelle.”
“Michelle? What are you doing here?” His voice came out in lowly hoarse whispers because he was just too broken to talk any louder.
“I was coming to check on you at home and oh god, are you Spider-Man?” The boy looked at her and smiled almost dreamily, as though he wasn't quite with her.
"Pretty cool right?"
"I knew it. That's what you and Ned are always whispering about in class. And it would explain why you're always disappearing."
"Ned wasn't supposed to find out." He coughed, a little bit of blood shooting out from between his lips, barely missing Michelle's left cheek. "I had to protect you, and everyone else."
"From what?"
"The guys that did this to me." He took in a sharp breath and winced.
"Look at you," she tried so hard to hide the cracks in her voice as she pushed back the tears threatening to fall. "If anyone needs protecting it's you. I have to call 911, you need help Peter."
"No, no." He raised his arm in a weak and frankly pointless attempt to grab her phone out of her hand but it barely went past his waist before dropping limply to his side again.
"What do you mean no? I gotta call them Peter, you're a mess."
"Don't call 911. Too many questions, Aunt...May. May can't know. Please."
"What do you want me to do? All I have are first aid qualifications, and you look like you need more than a trained first aider."
"Look in the pockets in my pants. Take my phone. Call Happy." Michelle got up and moved slowly backward until her back hit the alleyway wall softly. She then boosted Peter up, so he was laying between her legs, his head now resting on her chest.
"Michelle, I need you to calm down."
"What-"
"I can feel your heartbeat, it's frantic. Calm down. I'll be fine." Michelle laughed softly, pulling Peter's phone out of his pocket.
"Even in this state, you're still caring about others. You're a good guy Pete."
"Hey Michelle?" Peter had his eyes closed and he was breathing softly, like a newborn baby.
"Hmmm?"
"I think this is the first time you've ever called me Pete." She smiled to herself. This boy would truly be the end of her.
"Don't get used to it dork."
"What can I call you then-"
"Shhh," Michelle interrupted, holding Peter's phone up to her ear with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his torso. "I'm calling. And anyways, what kind of a stupid ass name is Happy?"
"For a guy called Happy, he's pretty grumpy a lot." Peter commented.
"Hello Mr. Happy? Hi, my name is Michelle, I'm Peter's...umm...friend. We need your help. I found him in an alleyway and he looks pretty beat up. He needs medical attention and he said I should call you."
The man on the other side of the phone asked for their location and she gave it to him before he promised to be there soon and hung up.
"He's coming Peter, hang in there okay?" She could feel him nod against her chest. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Peter barely breathing and Michelle looking up at the stars and wondering when rescue was coming.
"Hey Michelle?" Peter said again after a while.
"Yeah?" He paused, before raising his hand. It was covered in a dark looking liquid and was dripping.
"Am I bleeding?" She looked down to see his jumper was completely soaked with blood, which was now leaking through her jeans and unto the bare skin underneath.
"Oh MY GOD PETER." She quickly got up and rested his head where hers had previously been before kneeling down in front of him. Lifting up his jumper and the shirt beneath it, she was able to see the was a huge gaping wound on his left side, with blood leaking out like a slow but steady stream. It was enough to alarm her.
"Peter I have to apply pressure to the wound or you could lose too much blood. I have to take off your shirt and jumper. Do you mind?"
Peter shook his head and sat up, trying to remove his jumper but he was too weak.
"I'll do it." She took his fingers away from the hem of his jumper. "Just relax okay? And breathe, Peter, I really need you to breathe."
She may have sounded calm but she was anything but. She was freaking out hard because losing Peter Parker, right here in this alley, suddenly went from a 5% chance to a 95% chance of it happening. He was losing blood at such a rapid rate and if she didn't stop it now, he could die.
He couldn't die, he can't die. Not now.
She peeled off his clothes, her hand brushing against his torso as she lifted the items of clothing over his head and onto the ground beside them. She then shook off her hoodie and took off her thin jumper, glad she'd decided to wear a camisole top underneath it.
There was a loud rip, cutting into the silence and overpowering her heavy breathing as she tore the long sleeve top in half. She reached around his back, wrapping the material around his upper abdomen tightly, causing Peter to moan loudly.
"I'm sorry." She tried to comfort him. "I'm almost done."
"It's okay." He replied as she finally tied a knot in the cloth and ensured the wound was properly covered. "Thank you Michelle."
"You're welcome." His teeth were chattering uncontrollably and he began to shiver. Michelle grabbed her hoodie from the floor and wrapped it around it, enveloping him in a hug to keep him warm.
"Aren't you cold?" He asked, looking up at her. She smiled and pushed his hair out of his eyes. His forehead so was hot and damp, she was praying he wouldn't develop a fever in these freezing temperatures given his current vulnerable state. And where the heck was this Happy guy!?
"Don't worry about me. You need it more than I do."
“Did you know Mr. Stark’s suit had a built-in heater?”
“That would be fucking useful right now.”
”But he took it away. He was really disappointed in me Michelle..” His words fell off into mindless blabbing as his eyes began to close slowly and Michelle was worried about him slipping into unconsciousness and never returning.
She couldn't lose him. She just couldn't.
"Hey, Peter, I need you to keep your eyes open for me okay?"
He nodded, his eyes opening again ever so slightly.
"Good. That's it. Look at me. Please, stay with me okay? I really need you to stay with me."
Just then, the alley was filled with a bright light and the sound of a vehicle coming to a screeching halt. The door opened and a wide man of average height stepped out in a black suit. He walked up to them, followed by two men in white who immediately tried to take Peter away from Michelle, but she swatted their hands away, backing up further into the corner of the alley.
"Who the heck are you?" She asked boldly.
"Happy?" Peter croaked.
"Hey kid."
Happy knelt in front of the two teenagers, the light from the van curving around him as though he was an angel.
"Did you catch him? Is Mr. Stark's stuff okay?"
"Everything is fine kid, you did good today. I owe you one."
Peter grinned drowsily. "Did you hear that Michelle? I did good."
Happy held out his hand for Michelle to shake. "I'm Happy. Thank you for staying with him. These guys," He signalled to the men in white who first approached them. "Are going to take him and we're going to look after him. He's in safe hands now."
She reluctantly unwound her arms from around Peter and let the men pick him up and lead him to the van. They disappeared inside. Michelle got up, brushing the back of her jeans before bending over to pick up the rest of Peter's clothes she'd discarded when she was trying to treat his wound.
"I'm coming with you." With her height, she towered a little over Happy and she tried her best to look intimidating.
"You can't."
"I'm not leaving him alone, Mr. Happy. Peter might trust you but I don’t. I said I'm coming with you."
Happy could tell the girl was no where near budging from her decision so he sighed and stretched his hand out towards the van.
"Thank you." Michelle nodded, making her way over to the van. She jumped into the back and she could see the men hovering over Peter, plugging wires and machines into him. They slowly pressed a needle into Peter's arm and she watched the liquid drain into his bloody stream, his lids falling slowly over his eyes.
"Hey Michelle?"
"Hmmm?"
"You need a nickname now. Since you keep calling me Pete, I need one for you."
"MJ." She replied.
"MJ?"
"Yeah, some of my friends call me MJ." No one calls her that. She has no friends.
"So am I your friend?" Until now.
His eyes were closed now and she could barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. She had to lean in closer and she could feel his breath on her cheek.
"Yeah. I guess." She answered.
"MJ." He smiled. "I like that."