Work Text:
One
Michelle walks in front of him slightly as they trail along the cold dark sidewalks of Queens - animatedly talking about how they need to wrap each other's stockings before Christmas eve. Hers has been wrapped for days at this point but she’s excited to do them together but on the floor, on opposite sides on the coffee table so the other can’t see - so she’ll probably unwrap them again.
He throws his coffee cup in the recycling bin, pouting because he drank it within seconds of them being out of the coffee shop and he should have listened to Michelle and bought two like she did. He slips his hand around her waist and she hands him one of her cups - and gives him her free hand instead. Clasping their hands together isn’t easy with gloves but he lives to be touching her at all times.
“You can drink it.” She says bringing her cup up to hide her smile. He knew she bought it for him. He could smell the peppermint the second she stepped out the door. She hates it, and he has a newfound love for it after he drank it for three weeks straight to knock the negative effects it has on his spidey issues out.
“I think you should marry me.” He says wistfully, watching her bite her lip and rolls her eyes. She’s blushing though.
“We’re already married, Pete.” She replies but ultimately pulls herself closer to him.
“Then marry me again.” He says pressing a kiss to her temple. His eyes dart back to a guy he saw a few blocks back before they even went into the coffee shop.
The first thing Peter notices is that it’s cold. The second thing is that he’s been drugged with something. And the third thing is that he can hear Michelle’s heartbeat. The latter is the most important to him, he hopes she’s not cold. Groaning he pulls his arms up to his chest to help push himself up onto his knees, the muscles in his arms trembling as if he’s been fighting for hours. Huh, he still has the suit on.
He vaguely remembers wandering the streets with Michelle, looking at the Christmas lights brightly decorating the houses. She was incandescently happy, eyes shining every time she showed him another set of lights she wanted next year when they bought their first house together. He can feel the weight of her hand in his palm, always slightly foreign in the winter months because she wears two pairs of gloves. He misses her.
Shaking the grogginess out of his head he looks around, heart-swelling when he sees MJ in the middle of what he thinks is a room. She’s still wearing her Christmas jumper but the lights are no longer blinking. His advanced eyesight isn’t reaching far enough to determine where exactly they are. He sends a distress signal through his mask to any available Avengers that are in the US - he can’t be sure if it sends because all of his brainpower is focused on her.
“Em, sweetheart -” he splutters in his mask, uselessly wiping a hand over his mouth, “- are you okay?”
“Peter,” She says letting out a deep breath. There’s something off in the room but he can’t figure out what it is. His senses have never been one hundred percent useful whenever Michelle is around. Always finding a way to centre on her alone. He’s never had to use them when she’s in danger before, so he’s attributing the static energy flowing through his body as his senses noticing that her heart is beating faster and her breath is becoming increasingly ragged. She’s told him before he should speak to someone about it. Why didn’t he listen to her?
He can see her lips moving but he can’t hear her, “Em?” he says, getting more and more nervous as the second’s tick by. She hasn’t moved, she hasn’t run to him. Is she hurt? He’s about up to his feet when he hears a click of a tannoy echoing around the building. His head whips around to see something, anything.
“Welcome back, Peter!” Comes a mocking voice.
“Beck -” he spits out, a hatred seeping through his veins that he didn’t know he could possess, “- leave her alone.”
“Oh, sure! Whatever you want, of course!” Beck laughs out. The coward isn’t even here, he can sense that much. He’s glad he’s wearing the mask because he knows Beck creates illusions and he knows there could be any number of things surrounding Michelle, and he’s petrified.
Why hasn’t she moved?
There’s a thud above him and suddenly Michelle is bathed in a cold white light, and she looks tired, and scared, and beautiful. There’s a rip in her jumper just below her shoulder and his blood boils that someone has touched her, hurt her. He needs to help her, but he can’t see anything surrounding her and he knows that’s not a good sign. But he needs to be with her, he’d do anything to protect her. He goes to move but before his leg can so much as tense, Beck starts again.
“Let’s play a game -” he says casually with a clap of his hands, “- you have five chances to save her.” As he says it a large number five is illuminated in the air.
“No!” He screams out. His eyes snap to Michelle and she’s standing still but he can see the tremble in her hands, the tears slowly working their way down her face.
“Okay, fine. I was being gracious, but if you don’t want five.” The counter switches to a four and his heart plummets to the ground. He feels a mixture of insane violence seeping through him mixed with panicked desperation. He needs to keep her safe. He’s meant to be able to keep her safe. There’s no point to all this if she’s not here. The world deserves Michelle Jones.
“ No , no, no - stop it. Michelle -” and the counter clicks to three.
“Peter, please - ” He hears her cry out.
“So -'' he hears Beck sigh out as if he’s bored. “The other rules -”
“Fuck you,” Peter snaps as he starts bolting towards her, his senses will figure out if there’s anyone near her. He just needs to get to her. He reaches her in record time, only as he comes to wrap her in his arms does he notice that it shouldn’t be this easy. Nothing with Beck was ever this easy, it’s always a trap. There can’t be nothing stopping him getting to her.
It’s too late.
He notices this too late as he wraps her in his arms and watches her body turn to nothing. Wisps of dust passing through his fingers and clouding his vision.
“Peeeeeter. I told you -” his voice turns venomous “- there are rules.” He watches as the counter switches to two and the entire room is illuminated with light and he can’t breathe. Because she’s right there. And there. And there. There’s too many of her. He scans the hundreds of Michelle’s in front of him, all in varying degrees of disarray and it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. A nightmare he never dared to think about.
“You have to pick the correct one. The love of your life, right? Shouldn’t be that hard.” He can hear his smug voice but he can barely pick it out over Michelle’s deep breathing, and her sobbing, and her pleading and he can’t find her. He doesn’t even know where to start.
“But you lost this time so.” A shot rings out. She screams and his head snaps towards where she falls, chest soaked in blood. He can see her now, now when it means nothing other than the fact he can watch her die.
“ No.” He screams as he sprints towards her. But it feels as though he’s running through sinking mud - watching in slow motion as her neck tries to hold her head up. Her eyes are kind, and there’s no judgement there, she’s forgiven him already. Because she knows, she knows he’ll be joining her in moments if she doesn’t make it through. He’s not sure how, but Peter Parker doesn’t survive without Michelle Jones.
“Peter -” she coughs out along with far too much blood. She’s going to be gone by the time he gets there, he won’t be able to hold her as she takes her last breath. He’s never had the courage to think about which is worse, leaving her alone or living without her. He thinks it’s because truly he’s never intended to be anywhere but with her.
“I love you, Michelle. Please, I’m right here-” he chokes out as he runs but the distance doesn’t seem to be decreasing. “I’m coming okay - just - just keep breathing, I’ll be right there.”
He’s not going to make it.
She smiles at him, “I love -” but her neck stops holding her weight and she slumps to the ground. He doesn’t make it much further before his knees give out with the sheer pain ripping through his chest and he wails with his cheek to the ground, staring at the lifeless body of his wife. He’s had nightmares about this. He’s had training about this. And none of it fucking matters, because he can’t reach her and she’s gone and he doesn’t know how to breathe without her.
Before he can apologise to her, beg her for forgiveness he doesn’t deserve - the world turns black, and the last thing he hears as his vision goes is Beck’s gloating tone - “Let’s try again, shall we?”
Two
“Michelle, there’s someone following us, I love you and I need you to go.” He says deadly calm. He’s practised this. He will keep her safe. She squeezes his hand three times, not to cause a scene. She’s practised this as well. It took him far too long to convince her that it was better for them to follow him alone, they didn’t want her - she didn’t need to get hurt for him. She loved him, he knew that. She showed him everyday. She showed him when she slipped her hand from his and darted between the other couples looking at the Christmas lights.
He listened til she was out of ear shot, if he couldn’t hear her anymore she was far enough away to be okay. She’d be okay. She always fought him on this rule he had, if there was trouble she needed to get away. He should have listened to her, she’s always right.
“Peter!” she screams from flour blocks over.
The first thing he notices is that it’s too difficult to breathe. The second thing he notices is Michelle is breathing. The third thing he does is spring to his feet as his body screams at him in response.
When his head is up he sees her. He goes to move and remembers the gunshot; remembers the scream that plays on repeat somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere he’ll never be able to turn it off; remembers the way the blood seeped through her jumper.
So he remains still. Eyes moving behind the mask to try and ascertain which Michelle is his. She’ll forgive him for thinking of her as his , if he can keep her alive. There’s nothing in any of them that stands out and he’ll never forgive himself for not immediately knowing which version sleeps next to him every night; which one kisses his temple whenever he’s angry about something; which one loves him.
“Oh -” Beck’s jubilant tone rings out above him. “Not running straight for the wife now, eh?” He finishes with a cackle that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He can be mocking, he can humiliate him - he’ll take whatever it is as long as it means he can save Michelle. He sends another distress signal - unaware if anyone picked up the original one. If they can see what’s happening through the camera in his mask.
“Are we understanding the rules a bit better now?” Beck asks with a snarl.
Peter nods.
“Can’t heeeear, you.” He hears Beck sing loudly.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He snaps.
Peter swallows down bile, takes a deep breath and snarls, “Yes, Sir.”
“Perfect! Let’s start the game.” Beck replies in a gameshow voice - all animation but dead behind the eyes. Peter looks up with his eyes only as numbers appear above each individual Michelle.
“Alllllll, you have to do -” he says loudly “-is give me the right number and then come on down!” He says with a fake drawn out laugh.
“Sheila, my darling, if you could start the clock.” The timer starts at three minutes - it’s not enough time. He doesn’t even know where to begin. They all start screaming at him, begging him not to let her die, telling him they love him.
He flicks his eyes around as if that’s going to help, as if they don’t all look devastatingly like his wife.
“Em, please.” He says for what, he doesn’t know. He just wants her to know he’s here, that he’s desperately trying.
“Pete.” She says calmly. It’s her, it’s her . His head whips around to where he thinks it originated but all the Michelle’s he can see are sobbing and it makes his chest constrict. He knows they aren’t her, but it hurts just the same.
“Hi -”
“Em -” He chokes out, still unable to find her but he can sense the direction it’s coming from. He can do this, he just needs to focus.
The lights start flickering on and off, and he screws his eyes shut.
“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere -” he hears her say. She doesn’t sound scared yet, she doesn’t sound like she was just murdered. “It’s okay, I’m fine. I love -”
“No, Michelle - I know what - stop it, please.”
“I love you so much more than you know -” he hears her voice break at the end and his eyes screw together tighter. He doesn’t know how much time she has left. He can track her voice, he’s done it before - he can do it now.
“Baby, talk to me. I’m coming okay, just -”
“Okay. I hid your presents in the cupboard above the wardrobe.” She says quietly, with a wet voice.
It’s coming from the right. He doesn’t move his head.
“And -” she clears her throat, “- May’s gift is in the oven because I know you’ll want it and -” he hears her rub her face.
She’s four rows back. He doesn’t move his head.
“And we never cook the week before Christmas so I hit it from you and there are latkes in the freezer and -” she’s growing frantic and he can’t see the time. But she’s scared and it makes his blood boil.
He’s startled when music starts blaring from all directions, laced with Beck’s high pitched laughter.
“Ooopsie! Sorry!”
“Peter -” He hears Michelle cry out, where is she? Left? Right?
“Peter, please - focus on me okay? I love you, I love you.”
She’s on the right.
“I need - Peter - I don’t regret a single thing we ever did. Tell my parents -”
“ Stop please -”
The music stops and starts. He doesn’t move.
“Pete, I need -” He nods his head. He can track her. She can say goodbyes that no one will ever need to hear cause he’ll get to her.
“Just, I love them. Tell them okay?” She sniffs and the voices of all the other hers don’t make their way into his mind. It’s her, it’s all her.
Four rows back.
“And Ned - tell -” she breaks into a sob and he’s so close, he’s so close. She’s right there.
“You have my whole heart, Peter - I’m so lucky I got to spend my life with you.”
“One hundred and -”
And the buzzer goes.
His eyes shoot open as the hundreds of Michelle’s disappear, leaving one.
His.
One hundred and seventeen.
“Nononono, I was on time. I got her. Michelle ! I was -”
An ear-shattering crash occurs and he can hear the thunder of rubble falling and he moves. Sprinting towards her he can feel the exertion in his joints, burning through his thighs as he tries to reach her.
“Michelle!” he screams as his throat tears apart.
He watches as her eyes flicker up to what’s about to crush her. She puts her hands above her head and looks back at him. She’s smiling when it happens. She whispers, “Love -”
Rock after rockfall, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. He gets there too late.
“Em -” he heaves out a sob as he throws rock after rock off of her “- baby, I’m here. I’m right here, just - hold on okay - I’m… fuck -” the pile of rubble gets smaller so slowly he’s not sure they’re even going down - he knows it’s not going fast enough, “ - I’m here, please .” He can’t think about her being gone, she can’t be gone. He rips his mask off so he can breathe but it makes no difference.
Trying to block out the fact that he can’t hear her heart beating, that he can’t hear her breathing - he scrapes his fingertips along the sharp edges of stones desperately trying to just reach her. To hold her. He can feel the skin on his fingers ripping apart, but he can’t stop - she needs him. He needs her.
“I’m right here, please - Em.” He quietly weeps to her. She doesn’t respond.
He moves a rock and he watches in slow motion as her hand flops onto a lower one. It’s at the wrong angle and he splutters out bile that he’s sitting in the back of his throat since he watched the rocks pummel her to the ground - watching how she raised her arms to protect herself because he couldn’t. It burns in his nose as he hurls another boulder away. Her wedding band glints in the harsh lights, shiny in comparison to her skin which is coated in a layer of dust.
He throws himself to the ground, unable to feel the crack of his bones as he lands heavily on the disjointed stones. Grasping her hand, the back of it facing him while her inner arm twists unnaturally beneath the rubble. His tears mix with the dirt covering her and places kisses to each of her purpling fingers.
“I’m -” the crack in his chest shouldn’t take him off guard, but he wastes precious seconds just trying to get the words out.
“You. You’re the best thing this world has to offer, MJ. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he holds her hand tightly to his face, screwing his eyes shut, “Please, just breathe okay. Please, I can’t - MJ I can’t do this without you. Please -”
“Peeeeter.” Beck says mockingly, “Please, do better for your last time. God, it’s like - are you even trying?”
And the world goes black.
Three
He notes that they’re in the back of a van. He can hear Michelle breathing slowly but he can’t move his neck to see her. He can smell blood and something snarls inside him that it might be coming from her.
“Peter -” he hears her whisper but he can’t respond. He hopes to death his suit hasn’t been seen. He can send a distress signal if he can just get his mask on. God, he should have made it a thing in his gloves.
“Hey, I know you can hear me -” he feels her shuffle towards him, “- it’s just you and me in here. There’s three guys upfront and they’re talking to someone about how it’s all ready.” He loves her. She’s calm and taking note and doing everything he wishes he could do right now, but he can listen to her. That’s all he ever needs to do.
“They haven’t noticed your suit, I have your mask in my pocket and I’m going to tuck it into the front, okay.” She doesn’t leave room for an answer, which is good because he still can’t move. She gets closer to him, draping her arm over his chest and he feels safe with her - always with her.
“I’ve sent a signal - I think. That fucking app was only done yesterday and we didn’t really get a chance to trial it. But hopefully -” She breathes out a deep sigh and he feels her weight on him change. “Whatever happens, I love you and I know you love me. I’m not scared, you’re right here.”
The first thing he notes is Michelle is breathing. The second thing is that he’s on his feet before he opens his eyes. The third is that the countdown reads one.
“Michelle, I’m so sorry -” Beck sighs and Peter’s blood runs cold at the thought of him speaking to her, knowing her name. But this is what he wants. He has one chance, one more chance to save her - he needs to stay still.
“How does it feel, honey? I know you could probably pick Peter out right?” He hears him taunt. Michelle stays silent. Peter doesn’t move.
“Ugh, neither of you are having any fun today! Right, Peter if you can focus - focus!” He laughs out, “then I can go - I have plans you know. Sheesh. Oooooh, Sheila.” He sings out. “Countdown if you could.”
The timer shows two minutes and he tries to stay calm. He missed it last time by a fraction of a second. He just needs her, he needs her voice.
“Pete -” he hears her, it’s her . “I love you so much, okay?” He can hear the desperation lacing her words like she needs him to understand. Like this is the last time she can tell him. God, he doesn’t want that to be anywhere near true. He can’t believe he’s let her down like this. Who’s going to tell her parents. Who’s going to tell May and Ned, he can’t do that. It’s not fair that he’s lost her twice already and he might lose her again - he can’t find her.
The music starts again, louder this time. His senses snap to where it’s coming from, he needs to block it out but he can’t .
“Pete - please, just focus on my voice okay?” His Michelle says quietly, her voice slipping under the current of screams to soothe him. He nods not knowing if she can see. He hopes she can’t. Hope she’s not looking straight at him hoping he’ll look at her and just know.
The lights flash violently behind his eyelids. He tracks them without moving his body. Good, a start.
“Okay, that’s good. I’m here okay, I’m right here. And -” he hears her take a deep breath and imagines her neck tightening as she swallows “- and you’re my favourite thing in the entire world.” He’s never deserved her. He feels shameful being protected by her words now, finding the smallest level of comfort as she reminds him that she’s still alive - he can still save her.
“Let’s see what kills her this time!” Beck sings out over the tannoy. Peter’s eyes flick up to where a tank of water the size of a swimming pool comes floating from the ceiling.
“No - nonono, please -” he hears her bawl. His fingers flex on reflex.
“Peter - don’t think about that -” she says but she sounds as terrified as he feels “-think about me, please .” Michelle pleads and his eyes flick back from the tank of her personal hell, down towards the hundreds of her it could easily encase. Drowning is her least preferred way to go, he knows this. He knows this because it was stupid pillow talk - when they’re too tired to sit up, but want to talk to each in the early hours of the morning. He thinks about how beautiful she looks in the early morning light.
The tank continues to move and he feels the pop of his knuckles as he balls his hands into fists trying not to move as she whimpers.
“Peter. Pete, with me, okay? Still with me?” He nods. “Okay - I love you so much.” She says releasing a shaky breath. “Do you remember when we went to the centre last week?” He does, but he’s not sure why this is the memory she’s relaying to him - but there’s a happiness to her voice that he needs to hold onto. This isn’t over.
“You met Josh, remember?” She pleads with him. He nods. He can see how she lightened up around him in a way that only a few get the privilege of. He has a terrifying thought that he knows where this is going. She’s going to ask him to do it without her, and how can he say no to her? He’s never been able to. But if he can’t save her, he wants to go with her. She knows this, she’s trying to save him.
He knows Beck is taunting him with something, knows the lights are flashing but he’s focused on her. It’s always her. He slowly closes his eyes, silently praying that he’s not wasting her last moments memorising every single freckle on her face.
“He’s ours, Pete. I know it. I’ve known it since I first met him months ago. I just needed to check with you and -” he hears her break and it takes all of him to stand still, he’s almost there. He can get her. “- and I need you to have him. Okay? Peter, he’s powered and -.” She heaves out, and he doesn’t move - he can’t move. “He’s our son and I need him to be safe. I can’t -” He knows she’s rubbing too harshly at her face, knows her face is swollen in a beautifully devastating way. “I can’t - Peter. I need you to do it, please. Let him save you. I - please , Peter - I can’t do it.”
He nods, he’s almost there. She just needs to speak to him.
“I love you. I forgive you. I’m okay. It’s okay -”
“Sixty-four.” He says with certainty.
He hears a gunshot, then another, then another, then another.
It falls silent before he’s finished his sentence.
As he opens his eyes the illusion drops - it doesn’t fade away like last time, dozens of Michelle’s disappearing into thin air. He keeps his eyes on her, sixty-four.
She doesn’t flicker, she doesn’t move, she’s still there.
The countdown has gone. The feedback from the tannoy has dropped.
His heart constricts but he doesn’t fall.
Not this time.
Because she’s still there.
The floodlights shut down with a thud.
She’s still there.
He watches her tentatively take a step.
She’s still there.
She realises it just as he does, and he shoots a web to her hip, just in case and they run at each other.
“Oh my, God -” he sighs out while she claws at his suit to hold herself up “- Em.” He’s sobbing into her hair and all he can think about is how he failed her. “I love you, I love you -” he breathes out holding her too tight. “I’m so sorry.”
“You saved me -” she says with determination he doesn’t deserve, with her head buried under his chin. “You - fuck , Pete-” she cries into his chest. He’s never felt pain and relief like it. He doesn't know how they’re still standing, how he can move with the image over her lifeless body playing over and over in his head. She’s here, and real, and warm and shaking in his arms and he needs to get her out.
“I love you - can you move? Are you hurt?” H e says with his hands on the side of her face. She’s breathing. She’s not okay, might not ever be again, but she’s alive and they can figure out the rest together. She shakes her head and he doesn’t know which question she’s answering - but he assumes the worst and picks her up.
“I can walk, dork.” She says weakly with her head nestled into his neck.
“I know.” He responds with no intention of ever putting her down again. He stumbles over to where he thinks the edge of the room is, trying to keep his senses on high alert because there’s no way that Beck is just letting them walk out of here.
He can hear the footsteps running towards them, and he feels MJ tense in his arms.
“No - nono, Peter -” she mumbles into his neck, clinging to him tightly.
“Kid?! We got him.” He hears Tony shout. Loudly screaming at Rhodey to go around the back.
He falls to his knees in relief, making sure Michelle doesn’t take any impact.
“I’m sorry, I’m - Em -” he says pained and desperate. Arms wrapped entirely around her body as the early morning light streams in from a door at the back and he sees Tony in his suit breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s not your fault -” she whispers back, he can feel her tears running down the length of his throat. “I love you.”
“Mich-”
Tony leaves them - his senses picking up that they’ll wait for them outside.
“No, Peter.” She states leaving no room for negotiation. She pulls back slightly to look at him, holding his face in her hands. God, she’s beautiful. “You did it, you listened to me before, now listen to me again, okay?” He nods.
“It’s not your fault and I love you. I will always love you.” She presses a warm, solid kiss to his lips and his arms shake around her. “All I want right now is to be at home with you, eating take out and wrapping presents. That’s all I want, okay?” And he believes her.
“Okay -” he says as he kisses her again, feeling more and more of himself calm down as he feels her body against his.
“You want Thai or pizza?” He asks as he clambers off of the floor with her.
“Yes.”
“Okay -” he lets out a shaky laugh, “and we can fill out adoption forms - I know you have three sets somewhere.” She hugs him ever closer as he walks them outside, the familiar sleek car waiting to take them home. He piles them both in, never letting Michelle be without at least his hand. She pulls a sweater over his head and rests against him as he talks to Tony.
Her heart rate is slowing but it’s still too rapid for him to be able to calm down properly. He listens to her heartbeat and holds one hand against her neck - just to check, as Tony tells him how they found him. How he’s dead. It doesn’t fill him with the satisfaction he was hoping for - knowing he’s no longer breathing. He killed his wife and he’s not sure how he’s ever supposed to function again knowing what she looks like when she can no longer open her eyes.
She moves against him, not fully asleep and places a kiss to his chest. “Sleep with me, it’s a long drive.” She says slowly with a fist full of his sweater. He’s not sure how he could ever sleep again - but he’ll do anything for her.
“I think you should marry me again.” She mumbles as she eventually falls asleep. He agrees, he’d marry her anytime, anywhere, any place. But for right now, he does his best to just listen to her, letting the sound of her heartbeat calm his senses - the rest can come later and he falls asleep with her breath on his chest and her hand in his.