Gayle

“I’m not gonna get in.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Gayle says, nudging her in the shoulder. “You’re gonna get in.”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being realistic,” Michelle says dramatically, Gayle holding back the eye roll she desperately wants to give since even she can see through the charade Michelle’s trying to pass off.

“It’s okay to be excited about things, MJ,” Gayle says gently, watching as her sister looks back up at her with an expression that reminds her all too well of how she looked when she was little and thought Gayle hung the moon.

She still does, even if Gayle thinks that Michelle’s cooler than half the people she’s met at ESU—using that as an excuse for why she wanted to stay closer to home for college rather than the reality.

The reality being that for as brave and as smart and as ambitious as Michelle thinks Gayle is, Gayle thinks of all that and more for her. 

It made more sense, financially at least, to go to ESU anyway. For as much as their parents had saved up for college, pooling their resources with Aunt Anna to pay for her grandma’s heart surgery meant that any plans Gayle had for going out of state immediately went out the window.

Arthur and Miriam Jones were great parents, encouraging and brilliant, but they were also realists—almost too realistic in a way that Gayle didn’t want her entirely too self-possessed little sister to internalize. 

But if the biggest benefit of staying nearby was getting to be around Michelle during her most vulnerable years, who was everything in the world that Gayle wanted so badly to protect and encourage to be all that she could in a way that maybe their parents couldn’t, then that’s exactly what she was going to do.

“Think about it. You’re gonna get into Midtown–“ Gayle behind, Michelle rolling her eyes playfully as she continues, “you’re gonna graduate valedictorian, get into some stupid smart school with a full-ride, see the world, get some kickass job in whatever field you decide to conquer and–“

“Gayle…” Michelle interjects, pouting as she buries her face into a pillow. 

Gayle waits, giving her the chance to articulate whatever it is she’s thinking before she finally brings her head up and whispers words that make Gayle’s heart sink.

“Do you think they’ll be mad if I don’t go?”

“I don’t think they’ll be mad,” Gayle replies, knowing the ‘they’ is their loving but often demanding parents, “they’ll be confused, for sure but if you really didn’t want to go–“

“I do,” Michelle says, her voice barely above a whisper. She bites her lip, a nervous tic that Gayle’s tried and failed to get her out of even if her little snaggle tooth is still the cutest thing she’s ever seen— something she’d never say to her face now for risk of embarrassing her—as Michelle continues, “I think I want it more than I know what to do about it.”

And it’s then that Gayle gets the hesitation, the anxiety that manifested itself into her little sister’s body when she could still barely talk—of the overwhelming expectations that Michelle places on herself, only for that to be confirmed when Michelle says, “I want them to be proud of me, you know?”

“MJ, look at me,” Gayle says with an inflection that Michelle immediately responds to, sitting up as Gayle stares at her square on. 

“There is nothing you could do that wouldn’t make them proud, you hear me? Nothing ,” Gayle says meaningfully, making sure she’s at eye level with Michelle. “They love you so much, it’s unreal.”

Michelle smirks, Gayle seeing the way the gears behind her eyes are moving and the anxiety that’s just bubbling underneath the surface—unexplainable and yet ever present as Gayle presses forward, “Me on the other hand? Entirely conditional. If you don’t get into Midtown, you’re dead to me.”

Her words have the intended effect, Michelle laughing so loud that it brings a smile to Gayle’s face—taking that as the smallest of wins as she sees her sister’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Good to know where we stand, I guess,” Michelle says sarcastically, Gayle nudging her with her foot.

“Speaking of standing, get out of my room, nerd. I got a paper due and if you wanna go to Allen Pond this weekend, I gotta get it done now.”

“You invited me in here,” Michelle replies even if she does what she’s told, Gayle laughing her off.

“And now I uninvite you. Go please, before you disappoint me further.”

Michelle laughs once more, Gayle smiling at her as she rolls off the bed and goes towards the door.

“You good?” she asks before she makes it out of there, watching as Michelle smiles at her.

“Yeah. Thanks G,” Michelle replies, flipping her off before leaving her bedroom— door still wide open as she does.

“MJ!” Gayle yells out as she hears her sister snicker—a sound that Gayle is glad to hear, glad that she’s still here to hear. 

Would’ve missed out on this, she thinks to herself as she lays back on her bed—thinking of the universe and of small wins and the hope she has for the future, dreaming of all the good things that were left to come for them both.

Johnny

Johnny pushes open the roof door and looks around—smiling to himself when he catches sight of Michelle. She’s lying on a blanket near the far edge, staring up at the sky.

“How’d you find me?” she asks without looking as he ambles over, before laying down next to her on his back, his arms pillowing his head.

“New superpower, Jones. I can locate anyone just by thinking about them,” he deadpans. When Michelle makes a face he laughs. “Sue finally let me leave the apartment after I finished packing up my bedroom. Your mom told me you were up here.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “I told her I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

“Well, good thing I’m not just anyone,” Johnny says with a grin, playfully tapping her shoulder with an elbow. That gets her to smile, finally.

“So what are you doing up here?” he asks.

“Looking at the stars.”

Johnny turns his face upward, frowning. “You do realize we’re in the middle of New York City, right? There’s all of fifty stars to see right now.”

“Fifty more than I can see downstairs,” Michelle retorts. “Plus, I don’t have to be able to see them to know they’re there.” She lifts an arm up, pointing. “See Orion? You can see his belt but what you can’t see is that he also has a three-star sword on the left side of it. And the middle star of the sword isn’t even a star at all, but a nebula where new stars are being born all the time.”

“Wow,” Johnny exclaims, narrowing his eyes at the endless blue above.

Michelle glances at him. “Are you squinting right now? I just told you that you can’t see it.”

“Of course not,” Johnny replies easily, squinting harder. “Tell me about another one.”

Michelle rolls her eyes, but dutifully points again. “See the Big Dipper there? It’s just one part of the Ursa Major constellation. The Iroquois and the Greeks both saw a bear in those same stars, even separated by thousands of miles.”

“Huh. That’s crazy. Really cool, though.”

“Yeah,” Michelle agrees. She turns to look at Johnny, a serious expression on her face. “Do you think you’ll be able to see Orion and the Big Dipper when you’re up there?”

Johnny shrugs. “I don’t really know. Depends how far we travel, I suppose.” With a reassuring grin he adds, “But whatever I do see, I promise to take a lot of pictures to show you when I get home. And bring you back, I dunno, a moon rock or something.”

Michelle tries to smile back but it quickly settles into a sad grimace.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Johnny says gently, turning onto his side. “It’s only supposed to be for a year, eighteen months at the most. It’ll fly by before you know it.”

“For you maybe,” Michelle says, twisting on her side to mirror him. “I’m the one who has to go to high school without any friends. I’d rather be on the rocket hurtling into space.”

Johnny snorts. “You’ll be okay. You’ll make tons of new friends at Midtown, just wait.”

Michelle bites her lip, looking nervous. “I’ve never exactly been popular, not like you are.”

“Well, it does take a lot of hard work to be this awesome.” Michelle pokes him the ribs, Johnny’s smirk only growing. “Hey, I can’t help it if the truth hurts.”

“Whatever, Storm,” Michelle says, but she’s smiling again.

“So who taught you about space, anyway?” Johnny asks. “You know more about it than I do, and I’m the one going up there.”

“Gayle taught me,” Michelle quietly replies after a few moments.

Johnny inwardly winces. He tries not to bring up Gayle if he can help it, since Michelle never seems to want to talk about her. But sometimes it just happens anyway.

“A few weeks before the accident, she took me to Allen Pond with a telescope she borrowed from her Astronomy professor,” Michelle explains. “We sat out there for hours, just looking at stuff in the sky.”

“Kind of like we’re doing right now,” Johnny comments. 

They’re silent for a few minutes, both lost in thought.

“How about this?” Johnny finally says. “Every time you feel lonely this year, come up here and look at the sky. And if you see a shooting star, just pretend it’s me waving at you.”

Michelle scoffs. “You want me to imagine you’re a blazing fireball? In space?”

Johnny shrugs. “I don’t know. Sounds kinda cool, when you think about it.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Michelle says, giving him a look. “It’s bad enough you’re leaving, but knowing it’s because you’re going on an experimental mission billions of miles away from Earth? I’ll pass on the meteor metaphors, thanks.”

Laughing, Johnny turns his face upward again. The blue hue is a little darker now, he thinks, but not by much. He wonders how dark it’ll be when he’s actually up there. Who knows, maybe he’ll even start to miss the light pollution after a while.

Either way, it won’t be the only thing about home he’ll miss.

As if reading his mind, Michelle whispers, “I’m really gonna miss you, J.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Em,” Johnny whispers back. He doesn’t look over at her when he says it, afraid he’ll start crying if he does. After a few moments he manages to swallow down the lump in this throat, nodding up at the sky. “Tell me about another one. Actually, tell me about all of them.”

“That would take all night. There’s eighty-eight constellations alone.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be if you don’t,” Johnny says seriously, looking over at her. He knows they’re just delaying the inevitable, but he doesn’t care. Because right now, this very moment—he just wants to hang out with his best friend for as long as he can get away with. “What do you say, Jones? One last space lesson before I go to, y’know, space?”

Michelle looks back at him, the corners of her lip turning up. He can tell she’s thinking of not only him but Gayle too—though for once it doesn’t seem like it hurts her.

Johnny can’t think of a better parting gift.

“Alright, Storm,” Michelle finally says. “But you better not fall asleep, because I’m going to quiz you on every single one of these when you get back.”

Johnny grins. “I’m counting on it.”

Ned

Ned closes out of the online gaming chatroom, picking up his phone again and navigating to his texts with Michelle. The Alive? from twenty minutes earlier is still the last message.

Ned: He’s alive.

Ned: He says he broke his phone and forgot to tell anyone (again). He’s been playing Minecraft since he got home which is why he didn’t see your DMs.

MJ: Yeah, the dumbass just messaged me back

MJ: Thanks, Leeds

Ned sets his own phone back down, before taking a weary breath and going back to the card he’d been carefully making before  he’d heard from MJ. He’s just finished tracing the cursive N of GET WELL SOON and is about to start painting the flowers he’d drawn earlier when his phone chimes again. 

MJ: Btw, Peter told me your grandma is sick. Just wanted to say that sucks and I’m sorry

He watches as she types, stops typing, then types again.

MJ: I’m around if you ever want to talk

Ned stares at the screen for a few seconds in surprise. He doesn’t think him and Michelle have ever talked about anything really personal before, or at least not that personal. She usually kept things close, and Ned had never quite managed to get through that barrier like Peter had, and especially since she’d found out he was Spider-Man and they started dating. 

It makes the glow he feels in his chest warm all the more that she’s reaching out to him now.

Ned: Thanks MJ. I appreciate it.

The reply comes immediately:

MJ: Night

Ned types back Night before turning off his lamp and getting under the covers, still smiling to himself. It’s the first night since his grandma was admitted to the hospital that he doesn’t have nightmares.

Ned is out on his fire escape staring at his trembling hands—and the blood still caked underneath his fingernails—when his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, taking a moment to check who’s calling before answering.

“H-hey MJ.”

“Ned! Alive?”

Ned nods silently, only to belatedly realize she can’t see him. “Yeah, he’s alive.”

“Thank god,” Michelle says, an audible sigh of relief following the words. “Is he still there? Can I talk to him?”

Ned turns around and glances back into his bedroom window. “Nah, he passed out on my bed as soon as I finished stitching him up in the bathroom. I can hear him snoring though, so I think he’s alright. Or will be, anyway.”

“I can’t believe he just showed up at your place like that. Why not go to Stark? What was he even thinking?”

“Y-yeah,” Ned replies shakily. “He’s just lucky my mom and dad were both exhausted from being at the hospital all day. Would have been k-kind of hard to explain the Spider-Man suit, a-and everything.”

“Ned?” Michelle asks softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Ned tries to reassure her, but a wobbly sniffle betrays the tears that are falling. “It’s just… been a really h-hard day.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few moments before Michelle asks, “What’s going on, Ned? Is it because Peter–”

“No, it’s not that,” Ned breaks in, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Well, that’s not all of it. That was scary but now I know he’s going to be okay…” He shakes his head again. “No, it’s what my parents told me when they got home earlier. I guess the doctors sat them down tonight and basically said they don’t think my grandma has much longer to live. Like, maybe a few weeks at most. I knew it was bad but…”

He takes in a sharp breath, desperately trying to hold back the sob stuck in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Michelle says quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Ned wipes at his eyes. “Nah, thanks though. You probably got a lot of homework and–”

“Ned,” Michelle interjects, then when Ned stays silent, “Look, I get it, okay? I lost someone really close to me a few years ago, and then right after that a friend of mine, he left and never came home and…and I know it’s not exactly the same, but—I get it. So if it would help to talk—I’m here.” 

After a moment she flippantly adds, “And besides, I already finished all my homework because as it turns out, I’m secretly a giant nerd.”

A small laugh escapes Ned, the sound of it almost surprising him. “You think that’s a secret? You’re the AcaDec captain .”

“And? Your point?”

Ned laughs again.

“I don’t know, MJ,” he says after a few moments, sobering. “I just don’t think I can talk about her dying, not… not yet.”

“I understand,” Michelle says. “How about you just tell me more about her? What she’s like, or whatever.”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a steadying breath. “Yeah, okay. Well, I guess the first thing to know about her is that she’s tiny—like, barely five feet. But it’s like she doesn’t even notice, because she is fierce when she wants to be. Like, this one time, her landlord was trying to swindle the entire building by suddenly upping everyone’s rent ten percent, and instead of getting a lawyer, lola decided to invite the guy’s mother—who she knew really well from church, I guess?—over for a cup of coffee and some pound cake. And—no joke—the very next day the landlord went around one-by-one to all the tenants and personally apologized to each of them. I think my grandma’s rent even went down some, he was that terrified of her.”

“Damn,” Michelle replies, “your grandma’s a total badass.”

“She is,” he says proudly, smiling now—already feeling ten times better than he had just a few minutes ago.

“Tell me another one.”

“Alright, let me think,” Ned says, only for his grin to widen. “Okay, so she was an army nurse in the Vietnam War, right? So this one time…”

Ned quietly sits at his desk, staring down at a half-finished drawing. It’s a facial portrait of a smiling young man, based off an old photo Ned had found in one of his grandma’s albums months earlier. Ned picks up his pencil, starting back in on some shading only to set it down again after a minute, wiping at his eyes.

“I miss you, lola,” he whispers in the silence. “I wish I could’ve finished this portrait of lolo in time for you to see it.”

Ned bites his lip, looking around his empty room—wishing more than anything that his parents were home so he would feel a little less alone. But they’ve been at his grandma’s place every evening this week, going through and packing up her things.

He thinks about calling Peter, but he knows tonight is Thai-Takeout-and-a Movie-Night with May. Between her crazy work schedule as the new Assistant Director at F.E.A.S.T. and Peter being Spider-Man, plus his lab internship with Mr. Stark—well, Ned knows the two of them don’t spend nearly as much time together as they used to. Same with himself and Peter too, if he’s honest. 

All the same—feeling a little sad isn’t a good enough reason to bother Peter right now, or anyone else, Ned decides. He can get through another lonely night by himself.

With a shaky sigh Ned picks up his pencil again, about to start on the shading once more when his phone pings.

MJ: Alive?

Ned types out a quick reply before tossing his phone back on the desk.

Ned: He’s alive. Just having a night in with May.

He doesn’t expect his phone to ping again a few moments later, picking it up once more with a furrowed brow.

MJ: I wasn’t talking about Peter. 

MJ: Also I’m standing outside your front door. Come let me in, loser.

Ned stands up before he even registers he decided to, making his way quickly through the apartment—opening the door to the hallway to see Michelle is indeed standing there, holding a box of pizza in one hand and a bag with sodas in the other.

“Hey,” she says as if it’s just any other day, pushing past him and setting the box and soda down on the table before turning around. 

“Uh, hey?” Ned replies curiously, “What are you doing here?”

“Peter mentioned you’ve been by yourself a lot this week. I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind some company,” Michelle replies, searching his face as Ned simply stares back, jaw hanging slightly open.

He can’t remember Michelle ever asking if he wanted to hang out without Peter before. Sure, they studied together sometimes in the library during their shared free period, but that was different—they were helping each other prepare for tests, not just hanging out to hang out.

He must be quiet for a little too long, because Michelle’s face falls. 

“Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have just turned up unannounced. I didn’t think it through, I just thought maybe… I mean, if you’re busy I can–”

Ned shakes his head. “No, no. It’s fine.” He gives her a grateful smile. “It’s better than fine, actually.”

“Yeah?” Michelle asks hopefully, then smiling too as she starts to rifle through her purse, “Well, good, because I also brought my hard drive of film noir classics. Unless you want to do something else?”

“A movie sounds good to me,” Ned says easily, still smiling. “And MJ?”

Michelle pauses in her digging, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. For being my friend, I mean. You’re a really good one.”

Michelle bites her lip before giving him a soft smile. “Thanks Ned. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

They grin at each other for long moments before MJ finally finds the hard drive, putting it in a pocket and setting her purse down only to extend an arm toward Ned.

“Pass me a plate, loser. I’m hungry and the pizza is getting cold.”

Ned barks out a laugh, that same warmth in his chest he’d first felt just a few months ago when she’d first offered to talk now settling there again, but in a way that feels more permanent.

“Here you go, nerd.”

Gwen

“She’s not coming.”

“She’ll be here,” Gwen counters, watching as Felicia rolls her eyes. 

“I’ve never known that woman to be late to anything and yet here we are,” Felicia says, gesturing towards their apartment and towards herself— decked out in a shimmery silver dress with high heels that could probably kill a man— as she continues, “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”

Felicia sighs sympathetically at seeing Gwen frown, Gwen looking down at her phone for the fifth time in as she says, “Face it, Gwendy. We got ditched for dick.”

“We did not get ditched, MJ wouldn’t do that,” Gwen says, even if there’s something in her that wonders if maybe Felicia is onto something. 

Michelle was very good about being on-time to anything, one of the first pet peeves that Gwen learned about her within days of moving in with her last semester. Michelle never let the trash stay out for longer than a day, cleaned her dishes immediately and her one flaw as a roommate, if it could be called that, was the copious amounts of tea that she drank—even if Michelle ended up replenishing the stash that she ended up using the most. 

Gwen liked her immediately, and knew Felicia did as well—current grumbling notwithstanding—but if there was any other flaw that they could say that Michelle Jones had it was the frankly parasitic relationship that her boyfriend had with her. 

“She’d tell us if she wasn’t going to make it, she always does,” Gwen argues again, Felicia just raising an eyebrow as Gwen quickly types out a text message on her phone. 

Gwen: we’re here waiting. should we go ahead?

Gwen waits, staring at the phone screen and hoping that the text bubbles will light up before Felicia has the chance to complain—only to snap her head up when the door opens. 

“Hey, sorry. I’m sorry,” Michelle says quickly, looking flustered and like she’d literally ran to the apartment—something that has Gwen immediately putting some mental red flags up since if there’s anything that she knows about her roommate, exercise is not something she particularly enjoys. 

“Damn, you okay?” Felicia asks, the snark in her tone with a small, but noticeable, undercurrent of concern as Michelle quickly wipes some of the sweat from her forehead—her curly hair looking like it’d been put through a wind blower as she quickly shakes her head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just—” Michelle closes and locks the door behind her, dropping her bag onto the floor, “packed subway and it’s hot as hell. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Felicia and Gwen share a look, one that shows how much Felicia actually cares for Michelle rather than any plans to go out as Gwen looks back to Michelle and asks, “Are you sure? We can–”

“Nope! No, I’m going out tonight. We are going out tonight,” she says, harried and rushed and so unlike her that it makes Gwen’s friend sense go off—quickly glancing back to Felicia before following after Michelle. “I need a drink.”

Felicia lets out a huff as Gwen quietly follows behind her, Michelle being in such a rush that she doesn't even close her bedroom door behind her as she asks, “MJ?”

“Yeah?” she says, Gwen hearing something in her voice that sounds a little wobbly and uncertain— yet another red flag since Michelle Jones was nothing if not unflappable—as Gwen steps into her room.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Is there—did something happen today?” 

Michelle snorts, an ugly sound in the back of her throat as she rifles through her dresser—slamming the drawers and walking over to the other side of the room. 

“What didn’t happen is the better question. Shit meeting with my advisor, got yelled at by a customer and then—and then Peter –” 

Michelle cuts herself off, Gwen zeroing in on how tense her friend’s shoulders are as Michelle lets out an annoyed huff. 

“Nothing. It’s fine. Let’s go out.”

Gwen quietly steps into her room before closing the door behind her, giving her some privacy before Felicia inevitably finds out what happened as she asks, “You sure?” 

Maybe it’s something in Gwen’s tone or maybe Michelle’s finally reached her breaking point but that’s enough to give her pause—taking a deep breath before turning back to Gwen. 

Gwen can see then the red in her eyes that she’d missed earlier, sees the pinched expression on her face that immediately sets her on edge—standing up a little straighter as she asks, “MJ? What’s wrong?” 

Michelle quickly swipes away a tear, scoffing as she says, “It’s nothing. It’s—he’s so stupid.”

“Peter?” Gwen asks as lightly as she can, her own misgivings regarding Michelle’s boyfriend set to the side for the moment.

Peter Parker seemed like a decent person, at least from what both Gwen and Felicia were able to find from social media. They’d met a few times, far less than Gwen would’ve expected for someone who has supposedly been dating Michelle since they were sixteen. The few times she’s seen him—usually over an awkward bowl of cereal before he ran off to God knows where—he was polite, smart, cute enough that Gwen could understand the appeal if she hadn’t already learned more than she ever wanted to about their relationship the night before. 

But if there was anything that she didn’t understand, it’s why Michelle continued to allow someone who seemed unreliable at best to be such a significant part of her life.

Maybe Gwen was a little cynical, but it’s halfway through their freshman year at ESU and she still couldn't understand why anyone would want to still be dating their high school boyfriend, much less one like Peter Parker. 

Felicia joked that maybe he was just that good in bed that him being relatively useless in nearly every other aspect of being a partner made up for it, something that Gwen dismissed if only because in her eyes it was evident that Michelle clearly loved him. 

Gwen did wonder though, how much that love was worth it—for all the cancelled dates, for all the times that Michelle sequestered herself in her room waiting for him to call, for all the times that Gwen would try and find out what exactly Peter was up to all the time that made him drop off the face of the planet only for Michelle to shut it down. 

Peter Parker was clearly hiding something, one of the more memorable times that she’d ever interacted with him being when he had the ugliest shiner that she’s ever seen and he’d laughed it off as being clumsy—a red flag for Gwen to want to make sure that Michelle was okay. 

Now, seeing something that she’s not really sure she’s ever seen—Michelle looking just seconds away from total collapse—makes Gwen’s inner protective instincts jump out in full force as she says, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Michelle swallows something down in her throat, sniffing hard before saying, “God, it’s stupid.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Gwen says carefully, giving her a small smile as she takes a step closer. “But I’m here. If you wanna talk.”

Michelle studies her then, Gwen holding her ground before Michelle says words that surprise her if only because she never imagined that Michelle would actually go through with it, at least not soon.

“We broke up.” 

“Oh,” Gwen says as carefully and as calmly as she can, “I’m sorry.”

Michelle lets out a laugh, sharp but not bitter as she says, “No you’re not. You think he’s terrible.”

Gwen chews the inside of her cheek, her mother’s voice in her head chiding her for being terrible at having a good poker face as she says, “But you don’t. Or… you didn’t?”

“He’s not terrible,” Michelle says, deflating as her shoulders sag, “I just—I can’t do this anymore.”

What the this is, Gwen doesn’t push—not now—taking another step forward as she says, “I’m really sorry you’re hurting, MJ. We don’t have to go out tonight.”

“That’s— that’s the point ,” Michelle interjects, shaking her head. “I’m tired of not—not doing things. Just sitting here, all the time, waiting for–” 

She cuts herself off again, quickly wiping at her eyes before sighing in frustration as she sits on the bed. 

Gwen waits a beat before slowly walking over to her, sitting down beside her as Michelle puts her head in her hands and says, “I know I sound stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Gwen immediately says, Michelle smirking as she lifts her head up, “Who hasn’t fallen for an idiot right?” 

“Yeah,” Michelle says, her eyes landing elsewhere as she sniffs once more, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” Gwen says, taking charge in a situation that she hopes isn’t a step too far, “You’re gonna shower and then once you’re out of the shower, we’re going to go out to eat.”

“Gwen, you guys have been planning this all week–”

“And we’ll still go out tomorrow,” Gwen says, already mentally calculating which club would be better to go to on Saturday night compared to Friday, “but tonight, we’ll go out and get some food, go see the cheesiest and trashiest movie that we can find and then come back here and get drunk on the vodka Felicia stole from her dad. Sound good?” 

Michelle laughs, Gwen beaming at her and filled with a surge of pride for Michelle for choosing herself first, even if Gwen didn’t know all the details. 

Michelle is a good person and a good roommate, someone that Gwen believes deserves more than whatever problems or issues that her boyfriend is giving her. 

“Sounds great,” Michelle says with a smile—confirming for Gwen that maybe she was finally starting to believe that too. 

Matt

Dammit, Matt thinks to himself as he winces, holding on to his side as he stands in the open doorway.

Michelle isn’t here yet which is both a good and bad thing. Good, because she has a penchant for seeing through bullshit in a way that unnerves him. Bad, because he’s not really sure he’s going to make it to his desk in one piece and for as much as he hates asking for help, he thinks he just might today.

Come on. Get it together , he says to himself, forcing himself to stand straight as he stables himself with his walking cane and moves forward into the office. 

It was his own fault for jumping into a stakeout without preparing for it. Much like during his time in law school, Matt had never been participating adept at thinking ahead.

If he was thinking ahead, he wouldn’t have walked into a situation he couldn’t handle. If he was thinking ahead, maybe he wouldn’t be walking into an office he knows Foggy won’t be in.

Maybe this is his penance, after all.

Matt takes a few steps forward, pain shooting up and down his leg when his phone buzzes—rifling it out of his pocket with one hand before answering, “Murdock.”

“Good, you’re awake,” Michelle’s familiar voice rings out from the other line, clipped and a little breathless. Matt can hear the sound of voices chattering that echo before it gives way to the sound of traffic on the other end as she continues, “I’m at the courthouse now.”

“You’re—why?” he asks, flustered and turning a little too fast—just enough that the side of his body twinges.

“You had the O’Neal case today.”

Dammit , Matt thinks to himself, going to apologize when she cuts him off, “Don’t worry about rushing over here. I got the judge to postpone it for two days. Friday, 9am sharp.”

Matt doesn’t do well with planning ahead yet surprises, it seems, throw him just as much off guard as he coughs and says, “ How did you pull that off?”

“I thought the sign of a good lawyer was not to let anyone know your hand?” Michelle asks with a laugh, Matt smirking to himself as he takes a step toward his office.

“Who taught you that terrible piece of advice? Completely disregard it, that guy’s an idiot,” Matt says as Michelle laughs again on the other line.

It’d been Foggy’s idea to hire Michelle as an intern back when she was still in college, a summer gig that if Matt was honest, he hadn’t been particularly interested in as the prospect of mentoring anyone wasn’t high on his radar.

Michelle surprised him—smart, attentive, more observant than he’d originally given her credit for. She’d figured out what he got up to when he wasn’t in the office six months into interning with him. 

Now, a year later and Michelle being a 1L in her own right, Matt’s glad that Foggy had pushed him to take a chance on her. 

It wasn’t the only thing he was thankful to Foggy for, his guilt for pushing him away being drowned out as Michelle continues. 

“He’s got some good ideas. Though if the shit I read about the other guy has any weight to it–“

“It doesn’t, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, not wanting to drag her or anyone else into what he was doing, “Thanks for rescheduling the case.”

Michelle says nothing on the other line, not even having to use his hearing to know that she’s mentally calculating how she’d be able to get through to him another way as Matt says, “I mean it, MJ. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

She doesn’t sound like she believes him but mercifully lets it go, saying, “I’m on my way back now.”

“Got it, boss,” Matt says with a laugh, a joke between them that has the intended effect. 

They say their goodbyes, Matt hanging up the phone and all but hobbling to his office—making a mental note to reach out to Peter himself before Michelle gets the chance.

Matt knows there’s more going on between them than friendship, the same claims she made about the two of them sounding absurdly familiar to the excuses he used to give about him and Foggy just being friends.

There was a history there, one that even in a year of knowing her that Matt hadn’t pressed on— one that’s profoundly not his business and has no bearing on her work.

But if he’s going to prevent Peter from getting involved with this mess with Fisk, something Matt is determined to do, then he’ll have to take the leap before Michelle does—already guessing that she’s thinking of contacting Peter to bug him about it, if she hasn’t already.

He’s grateful for Michelle and for her save today, moving his hand over his phone to give a call to Peter so that he can return the favor.

Matt already had to live with the guilt of what happened with Foggy.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen to Michelle. 

Miriam

“So… what do you think?”

Miriam Jones takes a sip of her tea, carefully keeping her eyes on her daughter. 

“Okay yeah, I know what you think,” Michelle rambles in the way she only ever does when she’s nervous, a holdover from when she was an anxious child with the weight of the world on her shoulders, “But I’m—this is a bad idea right?”

Miriam brings her mug down, mentally listing off the variety of things she could offer her daughter in this moment—all the while knowing that if given enough time that Michelle could, and would, come to her own conclusions—as Michelle yammers on.

“Cause we did this before, right? We tried it, dating. And it didn’t work,” she says, one hand holding her mug of tea in a vise grip and the other gesturing around their kitchen, “We— we’re just fundamentally incompatible as romantic partners.”

“Are you?” Miriam nudges gently, Michelle letting out a groan from the back of her throat as the hand that was waving around the kitchen is now pressed against her forehead.

“Maybe? I don’t know. We were—we were just kids when we first started dating,” Michelle replies, Miriam holding back a laugh at the idea that her twenty-six year old daughter could believe that she was anything but a kid still. 

She’s so proud of Michelle and all that she’s accomplished—graduating at the top of her class at Midtown, making the Dean’s List every semester she was enrolled at ESU and in law school, and now gainfully employed, an associate at a small but clearly impactful law firm in the city if the cases Michelle told her about were any indication. Not to mention her volunteer work, which was so clearly close to her heart.

Miriam’s proud of her now as well for doing this—right now—externally walking through all the legitimate reasons why she shouldn’t restart a romantic relationship with one Peter Parker, reasons that Miriam knows at the end of the day won’t be able to deflect the very simple truth that Michelle loves him. 

Miriam has her own misgivings about Peter and the way her younger daughter’s life keeps getting pulled into his orbit. She wasn’t happy to learn the truth of who Peter was, not just for her own misgivings about the superheroes of New York and what they mean for the rest of the world—but for a more practical, personal reason. 

It keeps her up at night, the fear and the terror of what being a part of Spider-Man ’s world will mean for the safety and security of the only child she has left—wondering how much she has it in her to have to worry not just of the everyday terrors of life but of a whole universe that Miriam fundamentally doesn’t feel qualified to handle. 

Yet she has also seen the two of them together, seen the effect that Peter has had in her child’s life that even with the danger that inherently revolves around him—of how much Peter brings out sides of Michelle that Miriam had thought were gone forever, buried twelve years, five months, and three days ago. Not even the miraculous return of Johnny Storm back when Michelle had been at ESU had had quite that level of impact.

Miriam knows that Michelle loves Peter just as much as he clearly adores her—though she won’t say it, not when Michelle very much needs to reach that conclusion for herself as she asks, “What would make it different this time around?”

“I mean we’re—I know him more. I know me,” Michelle says, shaking her head as she looks off to the side, “We were terrible at talking to each other when we dated, but he’s—he’s my best friend now.”

“Are you worried that it’ll change things?” Miriam asks, Michelle quirking her lips in a way that’s so much like Gayle that it physically hurts.

“I think it already has,” Michelle softly whispers, finally looking back to Miriam and taking a deep breath. 

“I should probably talk to him.”

She says it like a statement but Miriam can see the question in her eyes, all that fire and experience and wisdom still giving way to the little girl looking for affirmation—affirmation that Miriam knows, deep in her soul in a way that pains her, that Michelle would not have found in her had the universe been kinder to them.

“If that’s what you want to do,” Miriam says as evenly as possible, smiling gently at her daughter— torn between a desire for her daughter to be happy and the overwhelming need to keep her safe at all costs.

Because even if Peter’s life doesn’t put Michelle in immediate danger, Miriam’s mind can’t help but see the possibilities that lay out before any relationship between the two of them—all the communication skills in the world being unable to make up for what Miriam can only see as a future filled with overwhelming and debilitating loss. 

A loss that Miriam worries that Michelle, who has already endured so much, doesn’t deserve to have any more of. 

Michelle’s eyes search hers, Miriam seeing in real-time the moment that Michelle makes her decision—nodding a few times before giving her a half-smile. 

“Thanks, mom,” Michelle says—Miriam knowing her daughter well enough to guess what decision she has made, a decision that pains Miriam but one that she won’t push her on.

She already lost one daughter. Miriam won’t allow anything—even her own fears—to take another away.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Flash

Eugene plays with the lighter in his free hand absentmindedly, flicking it off and on as he waits at the intersection.

He doesn’t smoke, a small act of rebellion in the opposite direction. His father smoked so many cigars that his office smelled permanently of tobacco, and the guys in Eugene’s platoon had smoked enough packs of Marlboros that they could single handedly keep the company alive, but Eugene didn’t—accumulating lighters more as a hobby than for any actual use. 

Maybe there was a subconscious part of him that liked the idea of always having a lighter on hand, a way to be needed in the smallest and most basic of ways.

Maybe that was also something that Eugene didn’t want to think about too hard, not when he’s waiting for some kind of motivation to get to where he needs to go.

He has an appointment with the VA and it’s not something he’s particularly excited for, not just because it’s a monthly reminder that he’s so fucked up that even the government didn’t want him to be a part of their army anymore—something that a small part of him tries to argue that a medical discharge wasn’t exactly being kicked out even if he feels that all the same— but also because it requires him to leave the shitty apartment he shares with some dude named Eddie who surprisingly, seems to have more problems than he does.

“Flash?”

He startles, something almost impossible to do to him now yet it happens anyway, at hearing the stupid nickname that he’d given himself back when his biggest problems weren’t really all that big to begin with—turning in surprise to see none other than Michelle Jones walking up to him.

“MJ? What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she says, pointing to the building in front of them, “Better question is, what are you doing here? I thought you were down in DC.”

“I was, when I first got back,” he says, seeing something in Michelle’s eyes that tells him that he doesn’t have to completely rehash his tragic backstory and that she’s likely heard of the accident and the medical discharge and the reason for why he’s walking with a cane now. “Shipped me back home the minute they were done with me.”

“Bastards,” Michelle says, because of course she does—because if there’s anything that he remembers most of their time in high school it’s that Michelle wasn’t someone to have particularly nice feelings about the government or the social elite or anyone that uses and abuses their power for their own ends. 

It was something that he always liked about her, even if he wasn’t particularly good at articulating himself back then. 

Even if he’s still not really any better at it. 

“Where you headed now?” she asks, nodding to the intersection that they’re waiting at and likely to the fact that they could’ve crossed at any point during their interaction but hadn’t. 

“Oh you know, nowhere important,” he says, shoving the lighter in his pocket as Michelle’s eyebrow rises.

“Nowhere important enough that you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes?”

Eugene frowns. “Were you watching me?”

“I wasn’t watching you, I was trying to figure out if that was you,” she says jokingly, “Didn’t want to come up and harass a stranger.”

“Fine harassing me then?” Eugene counters, Michelle smirking.

“Like I’d miss the chance,” she says easy, casually, like they were still friends.

Maybe they were, or they could’ve been— friends in the same way that anyone was when you were AcaDec nerds at an already supremely nerdy school. But it’d been almost a decade since then, realizing how little he knew about her life now even if he could guess that she’s successful. 

Yet here he is, missing a leg and with more trauma than he knows how to deal with— wondering why she’s being so nice to him by choice when he wasn’t always the nicest person to be around when they were kids as he says, “Yeah, guess I deserve that.”

Michelle softens at that, something that surprises Eugene because she looks almost concerned—the Michelle that he knew back in high school being entirely more focused on serving sarcastic quips than any kind of emotional conversation as she asks, “You really think that?”

“Are you a shrink now? Thought you went to law school?” Eugene tries to pass off, only for Michelle to frown even more so. 

“Yeah and I know a deflection when I see it,” she counters, Eugene feeling the two of them slipping back into the same kind of back and forth that came easy to them when they were teenagers as she continues, “What gives, Thompson?”

“What— you came up to me, Jones,” he says snarkily, Michelle’s eyes narrowing,” or is it Jones-Parker yet? Congratulations, by the way. Missed my invitation in the mail.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Eugene snaps, Michelle pressing her lips together.

“Act like I’m the one who cut everyone off when they fucked off to another country–“

“I joined the army–”

“And then proceeded to push away any and every single person who cared about you,” Michelle says heatedly, Eugene scoffing at that.

“You didn’t give a shit about me. We went to high school together, big fucking deal. Look, I’m not in the mood for this, I’m just gonna–“ Eugene goes to move forward but then something in his leg gives, the perfect fucking time to do so as he winces.

Michelle, to her credit—unlike anyone else he’s ever been around with this happens—doesn’t try and help him stand straight, moving instead a little closer as she asks, “What do you need?”

“What?” he rasps out, familiar phantom pains running alongside his leg and where his prosthesis is, gritting his teeth at how much he’s been avoiding physical therapy as much as actual therapy.

“What do you need right now?” she asks again more affirmatively, Eugene looking up and seeing something in her eyes that he recognizes—something that he’s seen from some of the only good nurses at the VA.

Someone who actually understands what it means to be asked what’s needed—rather than just trying to help to make themselves feel better at seeing someone else in pain. 

“A minute. It’ll—it’ll pass in a minute,” he says through gritted teeth, Michelle nodding once as he closes his eyes.

It doesn’t escape him that they’re still standing on the side of a busy intersection, that people keep passing them—annoyed and in a hurry as people usually are. 

Yet here Michelle is, seconds after he’d yelled at her, patiently waiting for him as if he was the most important person in front of her—something he is profoundly unused to and unsure of how to deal with.

Something that now, with age and a little time, Eugene has at least a little self-awareness to recognize as a nice thing. 

“I’m good. I’m good now,” he says quietly, grounding himself in the moment and his weight more steadily on his cane. 

“Okay,” Michelle says affirmatively, “good enough to walk over to Roast Beats or good enough to keep standing here for a minute?”

Eugene opens his eyes and looks over to where Michelle is pointing, a coffee shop just a block away as he makes a face.

“I don’t really–“

“Before you try and insult my intelligence any further, I’m not gonna leave you alone here. I’m done with work, I have nowhere else I want to be and—since you’re gonna be an ass about it—we haven’t sent out invites yet.”

Eugene blinks a few times in surprise, the weight of his own crushing life problems being lightly diverted for a moment as he sputters out, “Wait what? Didn’t you guys get engaged like a year ago?”

Michelle shrugs, like that doesn’t mean anything—Eugene having to remind himself that it’s Michelle Jones that he’s talking to—as she says, “We’re taking our time.”

Eugene snorts, making a tentative move forward as he says, “Haven’t you guys been dating since Midtown?”

Michelle smirks like he told a funny joke, wracking his brain to wonder if he’d somehow missed out on that particular line of gossip as she says, “Something like that.”

There’s a story there, some kind of drama that has nothing to do with him and is therefore infinitely more interesting as she says, “Come to Roast Beats with me and maybe I’ll tell you about it.”

Eugene laughs, shaking his head as she smiles at him. “That’s a dirty trick, Jones.”

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow raise, Eugene seeing the question and also the intention behind her eyes as he studies her. 

He really should go to his appointment with the VA, especially since ditching another might spell out some more trouble than it’s worth when Michelle surprises him by saying, “We can get it to go. I tell you about my shit, you tell me about yours?”

“Might need more than a coffee to deal with that,” Eugene deadpans, Michelle shrugging.

“Can’t promise more than coffee today but I’m free this time next week,” she says casually, even if everything in her posture is anything but. 

It’s an olive branch, the same type of offering that she would give him back in their AcaDec days—helping him feel included in a way that he didn’t feel like he deserved then and definitely doesn’t now.

Maybe he’s learned his lesson. Maybe he’s just desperate. Maybe he just really wants a friend. 

Regardless of the reason, he nods once—moving towards Roast Beats with her as Michelle cracks a smile. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

May

May nervously fiddles with her corsage as she waits in the foyer of the church. Peter had only just arrived a few minutes before, and nearly two hours after he was supposed to—not that May had been counting down the minutes or anything.

“You really like to cut it close, mister,” she fondly chided him in the hallway. “Are you alright? That fight looked nasty, even on my phone screen.”

“I’m fine, May,” he replied with a bloody-toothed smile as he’d raced by her in the direction of the groomsmen’s dressing rooms. “Just gotta clean up a bit, is all. I promised MJ on pain of death that I wouldn’t miss our wedding and I’m sticking to it!”

“Just make it quick,” May called after him. “You have fifty-two minutes! Oh, and Peter?”

Peter abruptly halted, turning around. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” May gave him a wobbly smile. “And I want you to know that—that I’m so very proud of you. Ben would be too.”

Peter grinned, looking choked up as he replied, “I know, May. I love you too.”

And with that he’d twisted back around, quickly disappearing around the corner.

Now here May sits, alone for the moment—Miriam and the bridesmaids with Michelle as she finishes getting ready while Tony, Ned and the groomsmen are no doubt frantically primping Peter. Meanwhile Arthur’s on his way with Michelle’s grandparents while Pepper’s coming just before the ceremony with Morgan, leaving May to her own devices until the guests start trickling in. And she really wishes at least one of them would right now, if only to keep her from thinking too much.

Because it’s not easy on days like this. The milestones of Peter’s life. Of course May always put on a happy face, refusing to allow any sadness to overtake the joy of things like Peter’s highschool and then college graduations, or the day he and Michelle had gotten engaged. And May was happy, so very happy… but. But.

For as unbelievably happy as she always was on days like today, they were also the times when she found she missed Ben the most. When she found she wanted nothing more in the world than for him to be here, to see the amazing man Peter had become, and to celebrate with her that—despite all their initial fears that they weren’t cut out to be parents—they had somehow managed to raise the greatest kid in the world.

But Ben isn’t here, May pulling out from beneath her nicest blouse the pair of wedding rings that rest on a long, slim chain around her neck. It’s her own little ritual to wear them on special occasions, something she did in honor of her late husband. 

And today is certainly a special occasion.

May is so lost in thought that she doesn’t register the sound of soft fabric rustling toward her until a flash of white appears in the corner of her vision, May glancing up only to gasp.

“MJ!” she exclaims, standing up as the bride-to-be—hair and make-up done and in her wedding dress—comes to stand beside her. “Sweetheart, what are you doing out here? You need to be–”

“There’s something you need to see,” Michelle says, taking May by the hand and leading her toward the sanctuary where the wedding was to be held in only forty minutes.

May pauses, Michelle turning to look at her. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait, can’t it? You need–”

“Please, May,” Michelle implores. “Just come with me? Just for a moment, and then I’ll go back.”

May shakes her head in confusion but allows Michelle to lead her again. Together they enter the sanctuary, which is tastefully decorated with vines except for a standing flower arrangement just to the side of the altar—which is where Michelle leads May to.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you saw it ahead of time,” she says, motioning to the flower arrangement—May pausing to really take it in.

At first glance it seems like just another flower spray—full of orange gladioli, yellow gerbera daisies, purple carnations and more. It would be easy to mistake it for a simple decoration, something to add an extra pop of color to the photos. But the meaning changes entirely when May spots the small plaque in the center.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF BEN PARKER

A sharp gasp escapes from May, who instinctively presses a hand to her mouth as if to somehow stop the sudden flood of emotions building in her chest from pouring out of her. 

After a few moments she turns back to Michelle, going to speak only for her chin to wobble, the torrent she’d tried to hold back now spilling over in the form of sudden tears.

“May?”

She wipes at her eyes as she laughs to herself, “I knew I wouldn’t get through this day without crying but I figured I’d at least make it to the exchange of vows.”

Michelle steps forward, looking concerned as she gently grasps May’s hand. “If it feels like too much I can have it moved to the reception area. This is supposed to be a happy day for you too, and–”

“Oh sweetheart, I am happy,” May reassures her, “I am—I am so very happy.”

May pulls Michelle into her arms for a hug, Michelle relaxing into it as she gently clutches at May’s back.

After a few moments they both lean back, May saying, “Thank you so much for this. I don’t know where you or Peter got the idea but, it truly is very thoughtful.”

Michelle gives her a sad smile. “It was really important to me to find ways to remember Ben, and Peter’s parents, and—and my sister. Peter’s wearing the cufflinks you passed on to him–”

“The ones Mary gave Richard?” May asks, grinning. “His father wore them at their wedding, too.”

Michelle nods, then lifting her right arm, “And then I’m wearing this bracelet that belonged to Gayle. My parents gave it to her as a high school graduation gift.”

May admires the elegant silver and diamond tennis bracelet for a few moments. “It’s beautiful, MJ. What a lovely keepsake for you to remember her by.”

Michelle smiles softly as she drops her arm. “Anyway, we both agreed we wanted something a bit more public for Ben, since he was such a huge part of raising Peter. You’re really sure it’s not too much?”

“I’m positive,” May says firmly, looking back at the flowers and plaque fondly before turning her gaze back to Michelle. “It’s—I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise just now. And I can’t tell you how much—how much it means to me that you took the time to arrange for this.”

Michelle goes to say something, only for a sheen to fall across her eyes.

“Oh dear,” May says with a wobbly laugh, letting go of Michelle’s hands to wipe at her own eyes again, “Not you too.”

“I better get back to the dressing room before Gwen sends out a search party,” Michelle says, quickly composing herself. As if to prove the point there’s the sound of the main church door opening from the direction of the lobby, voices becoming clearer. 

“Here—you can go through the back way,” May tells her as she nods at a side door.

Michelle turns to leave, only to twist back around and give May one last quick embrace before letting go and making her exit, the small train of her dress swaying back and forth behind her before she disappears behind the large oak door.

May turns back to look at the flower arrangement. Carefully she steps forward, reaching out a hand to trace a finger over Ben’s name. When she closes her eyes, she can imagine him standing right there, next to her.

“Aren’t we so lucky, Ben?” she whispers. “To have Peter yes, but today especially—to have MJ.”

Yes, May, she can almost hear him say. We are.

Tony

Tony slips in after the lights in the auditorium have already gone down, taking a seat in the very back. He’s hoping to keep all attention off himself and on the presenter—her being the very reason he’s here in Washington, DC today.

Though she’s only half a minute into her speech, Michelle is already a force onstage—commanding the audience’s attention as she tells the group of mostly lawyers about her ongoing pro bono work with the Urban Justice Center, a nonprofit dedicated to helping New York’s poverty-stricken and minority populations receive adequate legal services. 

While she’d never talked much about it to him, Tony could only guess that it was something she dedicated much of her free time toward—which he knew couldn’t be all that much when she already had a full-time job as a lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen.

Tony’s reasons for keeping a low profile are multifold, but the main one is that he’s honestly not certain Michelle will appreciate his presence. After all, when Peter had offhandedly mentioned to him over the phone just days earlier that Michelle was going out of town to speak at a conference on UJC’s behalf, he hadn’t seemed to think it mattered to her that nobody she knew except professionally was attending.

It was only after they said goodbye that Tony had walked over to the couch where Pepper had been listening in between reading her book, leaning down to wrap his arms around her from behind.

“Do you think it’s really not a big deal?” he says into her ear. “Because it kind of sounds like a big deal.”

Pepper brings a hand up to wrap around his bicep over her collarbone, laughing as she leans her cheek into his. “I honestly don’t know, but something tells me you already have a plan regardless.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have a lot of free time, what with Morgan at dance camp and you still working part-time at SI,” Tony replied.“And besides, it’s only in DC. I wouldn’t even have to get a hotel if I fly. But I don’t want to overstep either.”

“More like you’ve finally learned your lesson about doing so,” Pepper teases, then seeing the uncertainty on Tony’s face, “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s overstepping. I think it’s very sweet you want to go watch Michelle’s presentation, actually. Just don’t do anything over-the-top, okay?”

“Who, me?” Tony says, giving her a peck at her temple. “Why Pep, I’ll have you know that these days I’m the perfect picture of restraint.” Pepper gives him a skeptical look, and he sighs. “If you say so. You are usually right.”

“Just usually, huh?” Pepper quips, before turning back to her book. “I mean it, Tony. No grand gestures. Just showing up will be more than enough for her.”

And now here Tony is days later, enthralled as he listens to Michelle’s hour-long presentation. The speech itself is just as masterfully well-done: a brilliant outline of the Center’s mission and impact interspersed with Michelle vividly summarizing a few of their success stories over the years. But what really gets him is when Michelle mentions her own motivations for offering her services free of charge to worthy causes like UJC. 

He’d known for years that Michelle had a sister who died when she was young, but had never heard the details—details he was only finding out now. Like that it was the result of a distracted driver running a red light and hitting Gayle’s car on the driver-side, killing her on impact. Like that Gayle’s own car insurance company had been on the hook to make up the difference between her policy and the underinsured other driver, only to refuse to pay up—leaving Michelle’s parents with no choice but to sue. At which point the insurance company had opted to take it to court and defend the responsible party. And finally, how when the choice eventually came between paying for Michelle’s Midtown tuition or continuing to keep a lawyer on retainer, her parents had decided to drop the entire thing. 

But Michelle had never been able to drop it, she tells the crowd. So instead she’d taken her lingering anger and used it as fuel to carry her through a criminal justice degree and then law school—determined to fight for the rights of the disenfranchised by putting herself right in the middle of cases just like the one her family endured.

Tony had already known Michelle was a hero in her own right, but knowing all that … well, it leaves him a little speechless in his awe.

All too soon the presentation concludes with raucous applause, the MC announcing a forty-five minute break as people start to shuffle out. Tony follows behind as Michelle walks out a side-door, only for a small group of attendees to swarm around her in the main lobby of the conference center. Not wanting to interrupt, Tony takes a few minutes to check his phone while keeping an eye on the group. Finally the others leave, Michelle scrolling through something on her own phone—not noticing Tony until he’s right beside her.

“Hey, kid.”

“Tony!” she says in surprise, “I—what are you doing here?”

“Peter mentioned a few days ago you had this going on, and well, between fixing the porch swing and doing the daily crossword, I figured I could make the time.” When Michelle continues just to look on at him in astonishment, Tony rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly adding, “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced. I thought that–”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Michelle interjects, waving a hand. “I just—I’m surprised, that’s all.”

Tony nods, still feeling like something between them is awkward despite her reassurance. “Want to grab a quick cup of coffee? My treat.”

Michelle agrees, and the two of them head to a small coffee shop only a block away from the conference center—Michelle asking after Morgan in between catching Tony up on Ned Leeds’ life in Seattle with Liz.

Only once they’ve received their orders and are sitting down does Michelle ask almost teasingly, “So what are you really doing here?”

Tony’s brow furrows. “How do you mean?”

Michelle gives him a skeptical look. “Well, it can’t have been just to see me speak, because that’s—“

“Exactly why I came,” Tony breaks in.

“You’re serious,” Michelle says, then, “But… why?”

“Is it that crazy that I just really wanted to see what you’re like when you’re in your element?” Tony casually asks her, feeling anything but. “Or that I genuinely enjoy watching you accomplish everything you set out to do?”

Michelle pauses before saying, “No, it’s—it’s not crazy. Well, not exactly. You’re just so much closer with Peter, and while you’ve always been very kind and generous to us, when it comes to just me, I guess I always figured…”

She shrugs while waving a hand between them as if to give him permission to dismiss the conversation and move on to something more pleasant, something less important, and Tony simply can’t let that stand.

“Listen, MJ,” he begins, “I know I’m closer with Peter. I’m never going to deny that. But you need to know that I’ve always cared about you too, ever since the day Pete introduced you.”

Michelle rolls her eyes playfully. “Well, yeah, but you were kind of obligated to. I was his girlfriend, after all.”

Tony shakes his head. “Sure, but—that also had nothing to do with it.”

Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Well, okay—that wasn’t all of it,” Tony amends with a laugh. “But from the moment we met and you immediately started grilling me on SI’s collective bargaining policies, I quit thinking of you as just Peter’s girlfriend. Hell, I had no doubt then and there that if you’d been the one bitten on that school trip, I’d have been knocking on your door instead of Peter’s.”

“If you’d knocked on my door, I’d have told you to go be an adult and talk out your issues instead of bribing children to fight for you,” Michelle deadpans.

Tony grimaces. “If it helps to know, Pep’s dressed me down for that stunt at least twelve dozen times in the last fifteen years. I think she even lectured Hap about it, once or twice.” He smiles fondly, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe she took me back, after hearing all that. That woman is something else.”

Michelle grins, gesturing at him. “See, this right here is my favorite version of Tony Stark. By which I mean, the one who drinks his That’s My Wife juice.”

“You’re damn right I do,” Tony says with a laugh. “Speaking of Pepper, she told me no big gestures, but I feel it needs to be said and while this probably doesn’t mean as much coming from me—I want you to know that what your speech today is a big deal, kid.” 

At the surprised expression on Michelle’s face, he continues, “I get we haven’t always seen eye to eye, and there’s a lot of shit I’ve pulled that you’ve been right to criticize me for. But it’s always been clear to me that you have a big heart, and more than that, a bright mind dedicated to focusing all that compassion toward the greater good. Even without knowing what led you down this path until now.”

He sniffs, rubbing at his nose before adding, “So I hope you believe me when I say that the work you talked about today deserves to be recognized just as much as anything Peter’s ever done.”

“I believe you, Tony,” Michelle replies quietly. “I just had no idea you thought all that about me. It means a lot that you do.”

Tony smiles, relieved. Teasingly he says, “So this is what it takes to make you see that I actually care, huh? The French villa didn’t already make that clear enough?”

Michelle gives him a disapproving look. “I still can’t believe you thought surprising us with a ten million dollar vacation home at our wedding reception was a good idea. Honestly, Tony.”

“Yeah, okay. Not my best judgement call, that one,” Tony admits with a shrug. “Morgan said afterward that you deserved some kind of award for how gracefully you turned it down, and in front of a hundred guests to boot.”

“She’s not wrong,” Michelle says with a snort. Then, gaze softening, she adds, “Seriously though, Tony, thank you for coming. It means a lot that you’re here and that—that you care.”

Tony smiles, leaning in and giving her a warm wink. “Wouldn’t have missed it, kid.”

Rhodey

Rhodey stares blankly at the television in the Compound medbay lounge, only to rub at his tired eyes for what has to be the hundredth time in the last hour alone. 

He’s getting too old for this, and not just because he is old now, something Tony loves to remind him of far too often—not that he’s any spring chicken himself, pushing seventy like he is. No, it’s because Rhodey’s heart just can’t take these scares like it used to. But it’s still ticking—which means this is where Rhodey’s always going to be, each and every time. 

If Carol had been home he knows she’d be sitting there with him, but she’s not—instead visiting Monica at the S.W.O.R.D. headquarters in Florida. Ever since her goddaughter had hesitantly accepted Carol’s apology for not being there after Maria took ill, Rhodey’s wife had been doing everything she could to make up for her past mistakes. Rhodey had accompanied her on several visits already, only at the last minute opting to stay behind for this one.

In hindsight, he thinks it might be easier to be down there now instead, rather than waiting for news here. 

But then Peter wouldn’t have anyone here yet—nobody waiting for the news, good or bad.

“Hey, Rhodey.”

Rhodey looks up to see a very tired and worried-looking Michelle standing in the doorway of the lounge.

“Hey MJ,” he softly greets, standing up to give her a hug. “I’m glad you’re here, I was just thinking to call and see how far out you were. Say, did you talk yet to–”

“The nurse at the front told me he’s still in surgery,” Michelle says solemnly. “She didn’t want… she couldn’t tell me any more than that.”

“Yeah, I imagine it’ll be a few hours yet,” Rhodey carefully replies, then motioning to the couch, “Here, sit down. I’ll grab us some coffee.”

When Rhodey returns a few minutes later, it’s to find Michelle just putting her phone away. She accepts the cup he offers her with a nod of thanks, before saying, “Tony sent a driver from Manhattan to collect May. She said they’ll be here in about an hour. Is Tony coming from the lakehouse?”

“Yeah, he and Pepper both,” he answers, sitting down on the couch next to her and taking a sip of his own coffee. “He texted about twenty minutes ago, said they still had a few hours to go. They’ll probably arrive after May.”

Michelle nods, glancing up at the television only to turn to Rhodey. “Is this Hangar 1?”

“It is. Just started episode two,” Rhodey confirms with a tired smile. “I figured it was time I finally checked out your recommendation from back at Christmas.”

“It’s actually kind of lighthearted, for an aliens conspiracy docu series at least,” Michelle quips, “and also not quite as full of the in-your-face western denialism of Ancient Aliens . Can you believe that show’s still on the air? After Carol and Talos both said outright that no alien species had ever tried to colonize Earth until the Skrulls?”

“You know what I can’t believe? That we’re the only two people around here who have good taste when it comes to bingeable trash TV,” Rhodey jokes, Michelle laughing. “I can’t get Care to watch even one two-hour murder doc with me, yet she finished the first two seasons of Kardashians: The Kontinuation in three days. And guess who got her into the show to begin with?”

“That’s easy. Only Tony would be unashamed enough to actually recommend it,” Michelle quips. “Although I have to say—if you think that’s bad, try having a husband who watches old Temptation Island episodes to wind down after patrol every night.”

Rhodey lets out a long low whistle, raising his arms in surrender. “Okay, you win. That’s definitely the very bottom of the bingeable trash TV pile.”

Michelle smiles in triumph, only for her face to fall as she says quietly, “And yet I’d give anything for that to be what he was up to right now, instead of…”

She trails off. Rhodey softly sighs, lifting an arm and wrapping it around her—Michelle leaning her head on his shoulder while Rhodey gently rests his chin in her hair.

“He’s gonna be okay, MJ,” he murmurs. “Nobody’s better than Helen at bringing people back from the brink, you know that.”

Michelle doesn’t reply, just burrows her head in a little deeper before pulling away, looking at Rhodey with an unreadable expression.

“If I told you Peter and I decided last week that we want to have a baby, would you say I’m crazy?”

Rhodey’s eyebrows go up in surprise. He searches Michelle’s face for a few moments before saying firmly, “Of course not. You and Peter would be amazing parents.”

“But that’s just it, me and Peter,” Michelle says, biting her lip. “We’ve gone back and forth for the last year about it, with Peter really wanting kids and me waffling because of how dangerous his— our —life can be. And then I finally came to a decision last week, realized I really did want to be a mother, to have a child with Peter… and this happens?” Michelle shakes her head. “It just—it feels like a warning, I guess. Like a giant STOP sign from the universe.”

Rhodey tilts his head thoughtfully. “You’re scared that you could have a baby only for you both to lose him.”

Michelle nods. “Yeah, exactly. Because I forget sometimes, you know? Because he’s so incredibly strong, and he heals so fast… I forget that he’s not invulnerable. That he can still die. And tonight just feels like the universe making sure I know beyond any doubt that… that I can’t keep him.”

Rhodey nods solemnly. “I understand. First it was losing friends in the Air Force, then Tony going out in his damn suit stirring up trouble… I saw all that and how dangerous my life had become and thought–“

He cuts himself off, shaking his head. MJ’s brow furrows.

“Rhodey?”

He takes a deep breath, blowing it out on a long sigh. “My point is—it’s okay if you change your mind. That’s allowed, believe it or not, and I hope you know I mean it when I say I’d support you one-hundred percent in that choice. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s what you’ll do.”

Michelle raises an eyebrow. “You don’t? Why not?”

“Because for as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you make a decision from a place of fear. It’s just not who you are, MJ. It’s not in you,” Rhodey replies. “And besides, I think you’ve long known the bigger truth of the universe, which is that nothing is guaranteed. People who do everything ‘right’ and never take any risks still meet tragic ends sometimes, same as superheroes.” 

He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “So if you really want to have a baby with Peter, if that’s something you truly felt was your path in life before tonight… then I think that’s what you’ll ultimately listen to. Because you never let your fears decide for you. If you did, you wouldn't have married Peter in the first place.”

Rhodey takes another sip of his coffee as Michelle searches his face—Rhodey hoping she can sense the conviction there.

He can tell she does when she finally smiles at him, the gratitude clear in her expression before she leans back into the couch, nodding up at the television.

“Want to restart the episode? There’s an entire interview we missed that’s actually really interesting.”

Rhodey picks up the remote, relaxing into his own cushions. “Sure, no problem.”

It’s a few minutes later when Rhodey almost says what he nearly did before, what’s right on the tip of his tongue still: that he in fact did choose the path of fear when it came to a family for a long time. That he doesn’t want Michelle to make that same mistake over and over, until it's too late to go back.

But he doesn’t say it—realizing there’s no need to. Because Rhodey has had the privilege of befriending some truly brave people in his lifetime, and Michelle?

She’s one of the bravest.

Peter

Peter swings, softly landing on the fire escape outside of their apartment. As softly as he can manage anyway, the creak of the old iron making him wince.

Michelle had been a light sleeper for as long as he could remember but now she barely slept at all, so much that it genuinely concerned him.

He knows it’s not his place to comment on what his wife does and doesn’t do with her own body, especially when said body is now nine months pregnant—but it’s terrifying for Peter to think of how much she’s pushing herself. 

Peter loves her. He wants to be there for her, wants to help her, in any way he can. 

Which is why as he slowly opens the window that leads to their bedroom, shoulder sagging as he comes in and sees that it’s empty, he really wishes that she was asleep.

It’s been an on-going thing between them, a not quite fight so much as enthusiastic disagreement. 

Peter reasoned that Michelle, who was literally doing the physical and constant work of developing an actual human being inside of her, should probably take it a little easy.

Michelle reasoned that she, the one who was actually doing the physical and constant work of developing said actual human being, should be the one to decide for herself how easy she takes it. 

Peter’s well aware that he’s going to continue to lose this fight, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to still try. 

Peter quietly closes the bedroom window behind him, ripping off his mask and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s been trying to cut down on his nightly patrols, his own version of paternity leave by leaving the city in the capable hands of Kamala after her homework and Matt for the rest of it—not only to prepare for the birth of their child but also as a way of “leading by example” since Michelle had mentioned on more than occasion how hypocritical it was for Peter to argue for her to take a break when he never did.

Yet here he is, back home at a fairly reasonable time—just after midnight—and Michelle is nowhere to be found, listening for her and the baby’s rapid heartbeat and finding it coming from the living room—preparing himself as he quietly opens the bedroom door. 

Only to freeze when he sees her, biting down on his lip to hold back a laugh. 

Michelle isn’t still working like he imagined she would be, but passed out on the couch—the awful and ugly-looking blanket that Johnny had given them at their baby shower barely covering her and her massive baby bump. 

The television is still playing some show that Peter doesn’t care about, the images casting shadows across her face and making Peter smile as he slowly walks over to her. 

She’s in her current favorite position—pillows all around her, one leg curled and the other sprawled out—not quite on her back but also not on her side. 

He grins as he slowly kneels down in front of her, thinking she must really be exhausted if she hasn’t woken up by now as he studies her face—wondering if there’ll ever be a day that he doesn’t pinch himself at the idea that the woman in front of him actually married him. 

Her breathing is shallow, a consistent rhythm that calms Peter as he listens to her and the baby’s heartbeat— gently brushing some curls that have fallen out of the braid she has her in out of her face.

Something about MJ made him gentle, made him shy, made him strong, made him happy to be alive.

And as she finally begins to stir, Peter bringing his hand down as he watches in awe as she slowly wakes up, he thinks that if he gets to love this woman for the rest of his life, then no matter how long that is—he’d die a happy man. 

“Pete?” she whispers groggily, Peter softly laughing. 

“Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, Michelle moving her head around as she blinks her eyes a few times, “Just wanted to let you know, we do have a bed. Just FYI.”

“Smart ass,” Michelle says with a laugh, smiling as starts to sit up. “Bed and I weren’t agreeing tonight.”

“Too hard or too lumpy?” he asks as he helps her sit up, Michelle using his arm as a brace as she slowly reorients herself to be sitting right side up.

“Too lumpy,” she says tiredly, something Peter would joke more about it considering the state of the pillows surrounding her right now but doesn’t because he’s just grateful that she’s sleeping at all. “Ugh.”

“You need something?” Peter asks as she frowns, shaking her head.

“I need to pee,” she says, swaying slightly as Peter gently rubs at her back, “I need this baby out of me. And I need you to shower. You smell.” 

Peter laughs, pressing a kiss to her temple before saying, “You know, I think we could probably figure out solutions to all three of those tonight.”

“Oh really?” she asks as she moves to hoist herself up, taking Peter’s hand and using it as anchor as she stands. 

Peter waits till she’s steady on her feet before he says, “Yeah, you know, drains all lead down the same way.” 

Michelle wrinkles her nose in disgust, shuffling forward to the bathroom—still holding onto Peter’s hand since her sense of gravity had gone completely haywire. 

“Gross. See, this is the kind of shit we’re not teaching the kid.”

“Efficiency? Making good use of the resources available to us? I don’t know, MJ,” Peter says as Michelle snorts, “Sounds like something that we should absolutely teach our child.”

“Okay genius, gross ideas aside, I don’t know how you think we can solve the problem of the kid coming anytime soon.”

“I am so glad you asked,” he says with a grin, Michelle rolling her eyes as they walk—or in her case waddle—to the bathroom together, “you know I’ve been doing some reading–”

“Pete–” Michelle says exasperatingly, no doubt knowing exactly where this conversation is going since this isn’t the first time Peter has brought it up. 

“And I came across this excellent article of ways to induce labor,” Peter says with a grin before letting go of her hand as she moves into their tiny bathroom first, Peter slapping the emblem on his spider suit as she hobbles over to the toilet. 

He steps out of the suit and helps her bring her pajama shorts down before she slowly sits down on the toilet, glaring at Peter as she empties her bladder. 

“We are not having shower sex.”

“I never said anything about shower sex,” Peter says with a grin, stripping off his boxers as Michelle rolls her eyes again—shaking her head and laughing. “But since you bring it up…”

“Absolutely not. I can’t even pee without needing your help and you want to have sex in our tiny and cramped shower that we barely even fit in together when I wasn’t re-enacting a scene from Alien?”

“Okay first of all,” Peter says as he starts the shower, “if you think that relating your pregnancy to one of the best film franchises of all time isn’t massively turning me on right now, then you’re severely mistaken.”

Michelle laughs as he steps into the shower, wanting to rinse himself off as quickly as possible because the water bill was already going to be too high this month as he continues, “And second, I see your point but also the bed, while clearly not very conducive to sleeping, is very useful for other things.” 

“Not really,” Michelle says as Peter uses his body wash, “since a bed wasn’t anywhere involved in creating this problem in the first place.”

Peter makes an affronted gasp, turning back the shower curtain as Michelle laughs.

“Our child is not a problem, MJ,” Peter says with a wink, Michelle laughing even more. “Our child is a gift.”

“Yeah well, our gift is playing the drums in there,” she says with a wince, putting her hand on her stomach. 

Peter sobers up at that, the thrill of getting to feel his child kick from the outside always diminishing at the very real pain that Michelle always seemed to be in when it happened. 

He rinses the rest of the soap off of him, turning off the water and grabbing a towel before stepping out of the shower—kneeling down again till he’s eye level with her on the toilet.

“Want me to talk to her?” Peter asks with a smile, Michelle’s grimace turning into a smile as she shakes her head.

“Nah, she’s your kid. She wouldn’t listen anyway,” she quips as Peter scoffs, making a grabby motion for him. “Help me up.”

Peter does so immediately, helping her as she gets up and then cleaning herself up. Because that was the thing about love, Peter thinks as he helps her out of the shorts that she didn’t care to wear that much, watching her hobble over to the sink and wash her hands. 

When Peter was younger and stupider, he’d taken her granted—hadn’t thought to be the person that she needed but still so consumed with what he could mean for her. 

Peter wasn’t that much older and still, in his own eyes at least, very stupid—but he likes to think he’s learned a few things along the way.

He’s learned that love is more than just fun dates and surprises, more than having a hand to hold and a person to come home to. Peter’s learned that love is also gossiping about their neighbors and eating more soup dumplings than they could afford and perineal massages, that it was fundamentally disagreeing about sleep schedules and working through it anyway, that it was dreaming of a world where they’ll get to grow old together—the fantasy that Peter allows himself the chance to dream—that he’ll get to continue learning and living and growing with every single person that Michelle Jones-Parker, Esquire becomes. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, throwing Peter out of his thoughts as he follows after her out of their bathroom.

“Like what?” he asks with a grin, Michelle waddling over to their bedroom.

“Like you love me or something. Gross,” she says with a smirk, Peter grinning back at her—filled with so much hope and so much love for the future, dreaming of all the good things that were left to come. 

I do.

MJ

Michelle smiles as she gazes down on a face that she’s not sure she’ll ever get tired of looking at, little nose sniffling as she stirs in her arms.

“Shhh, bug, it’s okay,” she whispers quietly, gently rocking her daughter back and forth, “it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Michelle sways without purpose, slowly and gently cradling her newborn that in six weeks of living has already completely enveloped every inch of her world.

She’d never been the type to daydream about her wedding or even making a life with a partner, the idea of kids being something she liked and eventually wanted in the abstract and yet never truly grappled with the day-to-day reality.

The reality was messy and exhausting and so overwhelming that even nine months of planning couldn’t have prepared her for it. 

And yet—it was perfect.

At thirty-four, Michelle’s known loss longer than she’s known peace. And ever since Gayle died—even before Gayle died—she’s been intimately familiar with the kind of fear that comes with stepping out of her comfort zone.

It’s a fear that’s debilitating, a fear that chokes her and keeps her down, a fear that has served as a specter in the back of her mind for as long as she could remember. 

…and it’s exactly why Altheia Gayle Jones-Parker had surprised her so much.

Prior to meeting her daughter, Michelle had always assumed that having your heart walk outside your body would be something of a constant torment—like wondering every time you searched the sky for a single star, if this would be the night its light was simply… gone.

She’d never imagined that letting her heart wander free would in reality lead to her becoming her own light in the darkness. That it would make her find a strength she didn’t know she had before in order to shine all the brighter.

Because every star is capable of being a sun, Michelle understands now. And now it’s her job—and Peter’s—to cast their light over Altheia, until she’s ready to be her own bright star.

She makes squeaky little noises in Michelle’s arms, stretching and fighting against the sleep she absolutely needs—Michelle smiling down at her as she gently rocks her again.

“Just as stubborn as your father,” she whispers gently, Altheia snuggling closer to Michelle as she stares up at the ceiling. 

It was in these twilight moments, when it was past night but still too early to be called morning that Michelle’s mind wandered, a familiar sadness creeping over her as she diverts her attention away from Altheia and up to where she’s looking at.

“You seeing the stars?” Michelle asks with a loving smile, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d had Peter stick to the nursery ceiling months earlier at her meticulous direction. She points up at a bright blue one. “That’s Polaris, our North Star. If you’ve ever lost, it can help you find your way home.” Shifting her focus toward a small constellation nearby, she continues, “And that group of purple stars? That’s the Lyra constellation. Its brightest star is called Vega. Someday Vega will be the North Star instead of Polaris, but not for a very long time, at least to humans. But our North Stars change all the time.” She looks back down at Altheia. “What do you think, bug? Pretty cool, huh?”

Altheia coos, Michelle laughing as tears stream down her face—the loss of her sister being especially painful the past few weeks, thinking of all the things Gayle would never get to have, of all the things Gayle would’ve taught Altheia and how much Michelle still desperately misses her. 

There are so many things she still wishes she could say to her, all the things Michelle sees about her sister that she hadn’t then—of how much hope Gayle had for her and how much love, wanting to go back and relieve some of the burden that Gayle had on her own shoulders.

So intentional on trying to protect Michelle when she should’ve been focused on protecting herself.

As she looks back up to the night sky, Altheia still wriggling in her arms, Michelle allows herself the chance to dream—of a world that had been different, of a life that had turned out kinder. 

Yet even as she does, Michelle knows that that world wouldn’t have brought her Altheia— the brightest star in her universe born out of an endless lifetime of decisions that Michelle could never have planned nor anticipated. 

Michelle closes her eyes, breathing in and exhaling slowly before looking back down to Altheia—smiling as she does. 

It's taken a long time—a lifetime —for Michelle to truly accept that just like North Stars, nothing in life stays the same forever. It’s a truth with the power to devastate and overwhelm, or to uplift and inspire in turn.

Yet in this moment, with her daughter in her arms—it gives Michelle something quiet. Something peaceful.

It gives her hope.