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Three days. That’s how long Peter’s been here. He can feel the cold air sinking deeper and deeper into his skin. A shiver ripples through his body.
“Peter?”
He jolts, and the handcuffs around his wrists rattle.
MJ is staring at him. He hates the worry that is so damn obvious to see. The way her eyebrows are dipped down in concern. “Are you okay, Peter?”
“Never better.” He threw in a quick smile, just for good measure. “How’s your head?”
She glances up at the gash on her forehead. “It barely hurts now,” she said. “But you’re the one they keep taking. Do you…when do you think Mr. Stark’s gonna come?”
Peter sighs. “I don’t know, MJ. But he’ll be here. I know it.” He doesn’t know it. He has no idea what’s taking Mr. Stark so long in the first place.
Maybe he thinks Peter can get out of here on his own, but he can’t. Not with MJ here. Not without exposing his powers to either the men out there, or the brave, fearless girl curled up across from him.
A sudden hatred fills Peter. He hates the people who are doing this to them. He hates them for taking MJ too. Beautiful, innocent MJ.
“Stop the bullshit, Peter, what’s wrong?” MJ holds up a finger when he tries to respond. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Parker. And I’m not stupid, so I’ll know.”
He throws his arms up innocently. “I’m not lying. I’m totally and completely okay, MJ. Well, other than the broken nose and bruising. And the broken rib, but really, I’m–”
“Was that so hard to say, Peter?” She leaned forward until the chains stopped her. “Just admit your hurt. It’ll make me feel better than watching you pretend.”
Peter sighs and lets himself sag. His muscles ache from the upright position he’d forced himself into. “Sorry,” he says with a wince. “Just trying to–” He cuts off his words and closes his eyes.
His Spider-Sense rattles, and everything around him is thrown off. He winces before the cell door even opens.
“Who’s it gonna be, Parker?”
“I’m going–”
“No. I’ll go again,” Peter cuts in.
“No!” MJ stomps her foot on the ground. “No, don’t take him again, he’s hurt! Take me this time, I mean it.”
It’s too late. Peter is already being dragged onto his feet. MJ is screaming words and phrases he’s never heard strung together before. Even after the door shuts, he can still hear her insulting the man who’s shoving Peter down the hall.
He hates this damn room. He hates this place. And he’s tired of pretending like he can’t do a damn thing about it.
His whole spine spasms when he’s slammed into the metal chair again. His handcuffs are fixed behind him, and they set the tripod up in the usual spot. “Y’know, that kind of camera isn’t really good for this kinda thing. Have you tried–”
“Kid, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna hit you more than I usually do.”
Peter snaps his mouth shut and lets his head lower.
“Look at the camera.”
“Why?” Peter asks sarcastically. “I’m not looking my best right now, so I think I’ll pass–”
A hand grips his hair and yanks his head up.
Peter groans behind his teeth and finds himself looking at the camera. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Stark–”
“Stark?” The man laughs. “You think this is about Stark?”
“Well, who the hell is it about?!” Peter is getting sick and tired of this. Sick. And. Tired. “I’m sure it’s not about me or MJ, you asshat, so why don’t you solve your physiatric problems another way?!” That earns him a punch to the temple.
Peter can’t help the surprised cry that shoots out of his mouth, and his vision becomes tunneled. He tries blinking through the pain, but the more he tries to stay awake, the more it hurts.
A hand grips his jaw, and a whisper blows past his ear. “Now, tell Miss Romanov how you’re feeling today, Mr. Parker.” The grip on his jaw tightens painfully.
Peter barks out a strangled laugh. “This–this is about Nat?” He relaxes the tension in his muscles. “Oh, dude, you’re so dead–” Peter’s words turn into a scream.
Bolts of electricity shoot through his body, and his muscles seize. His lungs constrict, making it impossible to breathe. When it finally stops, he gasps for air, and then sags in the restraints.
If he didn’t heal as fast as he did, he’d already be unconscious. Now, it’s getting close. The lights are fading around him–the noises becoming nothing more than echoes.
He doesn’t even react the second time. The electricity ravages his body, and he just sits there, feeling his muscles spasm.
When he blinks again, he’s sitting in that cell again.
An empty cell.
With no MJ.
Peter snaps awake. “MJ?” His head swivels, but every corner of the room has been cleared. “MJ!” Panic flares, and instinct has him breaking through the handcuffs before he can stop himself.
Her scream sends a terrifying jolt down his spine.
Peter slams his body into the door, ignoring the ache in his side as he tumbles out into the hallway. Then he’s running, bolting through the door to the room he’d been tortured in.
MJ is in the chair now, struggling as the man draws his fist back again.
Then the lights turn off.
“What the hell?”
Peter doesn’t wait. He jolts forward, tackling the man to the side and slamming the attacker’s head into the concrete. He geys a good grip on the the man’s shirt, and tosses him to the other side of the room.
“MJ?”
“Peter!”
He follows her voice and quickly finds the chair. “Hold on,” he says. “I have some bolt cutters.” A lie. But he wouldn’t be able to tell the truth anyway.
He snaps the cuffs off her wrists, careful not to brush his skin against hers.
The lights flick back on, suddenly, and Peter shoves MJ behind him. There’s a gun leveled at his chest. Peter puts his hands up. “Dude–”
“She’s here, isn’t she?” the man whispers.
Peter swallows. “I–probably.”
“Good. I hope you’re watching this, Black Widow!” A smirk twists onto his face. “It’s time to put more red on your–” A sickening squelch echoes through the room.
Peter turns around and shoves MJ’s face into his shoulder. That way, she doesn’t see the red blossoming on his chest. She doesn’t see his eyes widen. And when he falls over, she doesn’t have to watch his muscles spasm as life leaves his body.
Natasha Romanov steps out of the shadows. “You two good?”
MJ opens her eyes. “Holy shit.”
“Uh, yeah, we’re fine, Miss Romanov,” Peter starts. “Thank you for the help.”
“You seemed to be doing fine without me.” She smiled at them. “Are you two injured?”
There’s blood leaking from MJ’s nose. “Oh, I’m okay. It’s just a little sore.” She points at Peter. “He’s hurt, though.”
“Ah, well,” Peter stutters. “I mean, not really. It’s just a broken nose. And a broken rib. And a bruised–”
“Come on, kids. I’ll get you to a doctor.”
Peter’s legs were beginning to grow weaker. He clutched onto MJ and limped with her towards the woman Peter had to pretend he didn’t know.
They glanced at one another as he passed.
Good job, Spiderling.
Peter tried to wink at her, but his legs gave out. This was odd. He didn’t remember being this hurt. MJ and Miss Romanov are looking down at him. He can’t really hear their voices.
He angles his head up to get a look at why his stomach is cramping so damn bad. Then he sees the blood. “Oh,” he says quietly. “He shot me.”
Peter didn’t remember hearing the shot at all. He didn’t feel it either. But the pain was creeping up to him, now. The darkness came with it, and Peter didn’t fight it at all. He let it consume him entirely.
Because they were safe now.
MJ is safe. And that’s all that matters.
***
“There you are.”
Peter blinks. How long has he been awake? He didn’t even remember opening his eyes. “Oh,” he croaks out. “Hi.”
Tony scoots closer to the infirmary bed. “How ya feelin’?”
How is he feeling? Peter takes inventory of his injuries. “I–good. I think. Nothing hurts. I’m just tired.”
“Makes sense.” Tony leans back in his chair. “Nat showed me the videos. You really took a beating there for a while.”
Peter shrugged. “It was me or MJ. Until I passed out. Then they just took MJ.”
“Nat said you were already mid-escape by the time she got there.”
“I got angry,” he said simply. “Before, I didn’t want any of them to know that I’m…ya know? So I couldn’t do anything. But when he took MJ…”
“It’s alright, Pete. I woulda done the same thing.”
Peter sat up a little straighter. “Really? You woulda?”
“You got it.”
“What about Miss Romanov? Is she okay?”
“Nat is perfectly fine, kid.”
“And MJ?”
“All healed up and calling me every hour for an update.”
Peter rested his head again and breathed a little deeper. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. That’s really good. I think I’m gonna, ya know…” His eyes were fluttering shut.
“Yeah. Get some sleep, Spider-Kid. You’re safe now.”
Just before he drifted off, Peter felt a warm hand on his, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
Three days, and he was finally safe. Finally at home, where no one could ever hurt him.
It felt nice. Peter decided it was pretty good being Spider-Man if it meant these were the people he got to spend his life with.
And he would never, ever forget that.