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On the outside, MJ has always appeared to be tough. Self-confident. Courageous.
Even in school, when she had been just a small, scrawny kid, she had been the one to stand up for poor, shy Peter and Harry, whose money could buy cool clothes and the newest phones but also got people jealous and mean.
She had been the one to fight against inequality, unfair treatment and discrimination – not in the hero-in-spandex-way, but in her own way. With words, often sharp as knives. Bold, unafraid.
But on the inside, MJ has been afraid of a lot of things.
Afraid of her father, of the smell of whiskey in his breath. Of being too loud or too quiet and provoking his anger. Of his fists on her body.
Afraid of coming home to her mother lying motionless on the couch because he went too far this time.
Afraid of Peter leaving to go on patrol or to stop yet another villain wreaking havoc on the city and never returning.
But she has never been afraid of him.
She is now.
Her hands burn and her legs ache as she sprints through the dimly lit tunnel and leaps over barriers. There are cuts and scratches all over her from her fall with the motorcycle. She can feel the stickiness of blood on her palms and her face stings, but she has no time to think about her wounds. She has no time to think about anything besides the danger she is in.
The blood is rushing in her ears and her heart is pounding but she can still hear Peter’s roars echoing off the walls. Can hear the otherworldly hissing he makes, his growls right behind her-
No, not his. That’s not Peter. It can’t be.
Peter would never hurt her. At least not in a physical way.
She can still remember the times when she had to nurse her aching heart. She can still remember the pictures showing him with Black Cat. The headlines. The gossip about Spider-Man and his attractive but wicked girlfriend.
It hurt.
To see them together, to watch them touching each other. Her hands on his shoulders, his face just inches from hers. It was as if MJ had never even existed.
She had tortured herself over it. Had spent hours searching the internet for every bit of information about their encounters until she could barely breathe. Until the sight of Black Cat’s flirtatious smile made her sick.
But even if he had hurt her then, it had not been on purpose.
Right now, he wants to harm her. He wants her to bleed. Her body, not her heart.
Or the suit does. The… alien does. That’s the only explanation. Because Peter isn’t cruel. He doesn’t want to fight. Only to protect.
It somehow makes it worse. To know that he is not who he used to be. It feels as if she has lost him even if he is right there, and she doesn’t know if there is a way to get him back.
Not that it looks like she has any chance to try because it would be a miracle if she survives this.
Her foot catches on something, maybe some of the tools the construction workers left behind, or some kind of building material, and MJ stumbles. She can hear the suit behind her back, next to her, the almost fleshy sound that makes her stomach roil.
It’s like a parasite, like there is something growing out of him.
It unsettles her. That sound and the deep voice that does not sound like Peter, does not even sound human.
It sounds like straight out of a nightmare.
MJ manages to catch herself before she falls. Once she goes down, it is going to be over.
The path in front of her narrows. There is a truck on her left and a large pile of cement bags stacked on top of each to her right. It slows her down and her breath hitches as the symbiote's tentacles hit the truck and the bags just inches from her body.
Once. Twice.
She is not going to make it, she is not going to make it-
He catches her on her shoulder and a high pitched scream escapes MJ as she is yanked backwards.
“Peter!”
It’s always hard to know what is going on behind Spider-Man’s mask because she can’t read his facial expression, but it has grown familiar to MJ. She trusts the man behind the mask.
There is nothing familiar about this one, even if it does not look too different from his usual suit. The white of the eyes almost seem soulless. Cruel.
The grip on her shoulder is painful, the suit digging into her skin.
A memory flashes in front of MJ’s eyes. The face of his father just inches from hers, his eyes bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol.
MJ has never fought back. Being submissive led to bruises, cuts and sprains, but spared her from being beaten into unconsciousness.
But right now, there is much more at stake than her consciousness. And not fighting back won’t stop him.
So MJ slams the stun gun into Peter’s neck, just as he raises his hand, about to attack. Sparks fly and his head is thrown back.
It feels wrong to attack him, no matter the situation. It feels wrong having to attack him. To defend herself.
But it works. As soon as he releases her, MJ spins around and makes it to the other end of the narrow pathway. The soles of her shoes slap against the concrete as her feet propel her forward.
Steel beams crash to the floor next to her and debris is raining down on her. Something grazes her cheek and she can feel the sting of fresh wounds.
He is already on his feet again. Her stun gun is designed to take out grown men and it didn’t even cost him more than a few seconds to recover from it. How is she going to survive this?
MJ leaps over the next barrier just as Peter lurches for her. Her heart stutters, but he misses. Still, it’s awfully close and it she is barely on her feet again before he attacks for a second time.
And this time, there is the voice again.
“Miiiiiiine.”
It sends cold shivers up and down MJ’s spine and he almost catches her. The wall next to her explodes when the suit slams into it.
She doesn’t know how much longer she can go on. She can barely see where she is going, let alone where the tunnel is ending. If he corners her, there is not much that she can do.
And then she sees it. The exit.
There are about thirty feet separating her and the lit doorway and MJ knows that this is probably her only chance at leaving this place alive.
So she doesn’t hesitate when Peter tries to block her path. She shoots his own webs at him, hitting him straight in the face.
It stops him long enough for her to get to the other side of the metal structure that extends across the tunnel. Angry hisses indicate that Peter is far from happy about being beaten with his own weapons but MJ doesn’t turn around to look if it is enough to incapacitate him.
She staggers towards the door, expecting to be grabbed every second-
And then she is trough, at the same time Peter manages to free himself from the webs.
MJ holds her breath while she listens to the frustrated growls. She wonders if he can hear her racing heart that feels like it is going to explode out of her chest, but then he disappears along the tunnel.
She closes her eyes and loses a sigh.
With the adrenaline subsiding, the pain throughout her body becomes more intense. Her jeans are ripped and the skin beneath it is raw and bloody. The same goes for her hands. Her knuckles are still bleeding from her initial fall and there is a deep cut across her palm that she doesn’t know the reason for.
Still, that’s not what hurts the most. It’s the bruise on her shoulder that burns like hell, even if the skin is not damaged. Even if it is going to heal sooner than her other wounds.
Yes, MJ has never been afraid of Peter before.
But after what has just happened, she doesn’t know how much of Peter is left.
And that might be her biggest fear yet.