Chapter Text
Tears streamed down MJ's face, though she wasn't quite sure why. It was like one moment she had just been standing in her apartment, and the next it felt like everything had been turned upside down in ways she didn't even understand.
Ned was practically on the ground, and it was obvious that whatever had happened to her, had happened to him too. It felt like somehow she had been… invaded. Exposed. She couldn't remember what had just happened, but one thing she was certain of was that this had to do with Peter. And probably that teenage girl he was trying to find.
Ultra-powerful telepathic mutant that can invade your mind + widespread confusion and amnesia throughout the city, wasn't exactly a struggle for her to put two and two together.
She wiped at the tears and tried to catch her breath as she came back into her own body. "Holy shit," she said.
The part that bothered her wasn't the fact that her mind had been invaded, it was the fact that she seemed to be the only one crying, and beyond that the fact that something felt… different.
She felt different.
Her first thought was of Peter. She hoped that he was okay, and that whatever was happening with Jean had been resolved. The fact that she was no longer under mind control seemed like a promising sign, and she knew that Peter was more than capable of taking care of himself. Yet… she couldn't help but worry about him in a way that she hadn't before.
—
It wasn't until an hour later that they saw the reports. That they read the headlines across every news site and social media platform.
Spider-Man Rushed to the Hospital With Gunshot Wound
Will The Masked Hero Survive This Injury?
New Yorkers Rally Behind Spider-Man as He Undergoes Emergency Surgery
The pit in her stomach only grew. The nagging feeling at the back of her mind only got stronger. This was more than the worries of a concerned citizen, more than the basic concerns over the wellbeing of an acquaintance.
It felt all-consuming in a way that it shouldn't have. She wasn't just worried, she felt sick to her stomach.
The rest of the night passed much the same. She didn't sleep a wink, too wrapped up in thoughts of him to do much of anything else other than lie there, staring at the ceiling.
She checked her phone constantly for updates about him. Assurances that he had survived and would be okay. Fuck, she really needed him to be okay.
But even the next morning when the reports had come out and confirmed that he had made it through surgery, those thoughts didn't go away like she had thought that they would.
And she knew that what she needed was to see him. This feeling wasn't going to go away until she faced the problem head on, whether she wanted to or not.
-—"I'm here to see Spider-Man".
The waiting room of the hospital was quiet, with a harsh overhead lighting that made MJ feel just a bit more irritated. An older woman sat at the desk in front of her, not even looking up from the computer screen.
"You and the rest of the city, sweetheart. Fans aren't allowed," she said, like it wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation today.
MJ shook her head, never one to take 'no' for an answer. "No, you don't understand. I know him, okay? We're… friends… I guess," she said. Were they really friends though? Who was to say, but it was easier than explaining the truth, so it would have to do for now.
A moment of silence followed before the woman finally looked up, an unamused expression on her face. "Look, as convincing as 'friends, I guess' sounds to me, I'm afraid that is just not possible. We have made a promise to ensure the safety and anonymity of Spider-Man, and-"
"She's okay," a voice interrupted, and they both turned to see The Punisher standing there, looking as punishing as ever, even without the skull on his chest. "I know her, she's with me," he told her.
MJ smiled gratefully before turning back to the woman at the desk, a barely contained smug look on her face.
The woman looked between the two of them before sighing. "Sign these papers and go get your visitor's badge at desk four," she said, handing over a clipboard to MJ.
No more than five minutes passed before Frank was leading her back down the hallway.
"Thanks… for that," she said.
"Sure. I mean I already had to play nanny for you, so what's one more favor?" he asked as he took her into a small room.
… And there he was. Lying out on the bed, eyes closed, looking so weak and helpless for a man who had just saved the world. The feeling that came over her was one that she couldn't even put into words. Like it was somebody else feeling it.
"I'll just um… I'll give you a minute," he said.
MJ looked over her shoulder, nodding gently as Frank left the room, the door closing softly behind him.
She was slow walking over to the bed. Almost like she was worried at any moment he would wake up. But with the amount of blood he lost, she was sure that he would probably be out for a while, even post-surgery. Maybe that was for the best. She didn't want to send out any mixed signals, or make him think that she was here to tell him something she didn't even understand yet herself.
Her eyes traced over his face. Bruises and scratches littered his skin, with the bridge of his nose being busted too. Yet somehow, even all beat up, he looked like he was at peace for the first time since she had known him. Well, the first time since the second time she had known him. It was still a little confusing.
She sat down in the chair beside the bed, her eyes drifting from his face over to all of the drawings, flowers, and cards that had been sent, no doubt, by his fans. She couldn't help but smile at them. Everyone loved him. He was the hero of the people.
"You're such a good guy," she said softly, turning back to him. It felt almost stupid to say. He had saved the city numerous times for no pay, and had almost died in the process. Of course he was a good guy.
But at the same time, it wasn't the flowers or the cards that triggered that thought. It wasn't the fact that he had saved them. It wasn't… anything really. Just an indisputable fact that she knew in her bones. He was a good guy, simple as that.
"… Why can't I remember you?" she asked in a whisper, through tears, looking to him for an answer that she knew would never come.
"I'm trying, Peter, I really am… I want to remember you."
She sniffled softly and reached hesitantly for his hand. Busted knuckles and calloused fingers that somehow felt so right in her own.
She moved again, almost on instinct, her free hand running softly through loose brown curls as naturally as if she had done it a thousand times before.
It was like her body remembered something that her brain didn't. These things that came so naturally, yet seemed so foreign. She had no recollection of him in any capacity, but somehow when her fingertips grazed his cheek, it felt like they belonged.
In the tears in her eyes, the pit in her stomach, the nagging at the back of her head, it felt like there was an undeniable truth that was just waiting for her to discover it.
But as much as she tried, it just seemed impossible.
With a defeated sigh, she let go of him, sitting back down in the uncomfortable chair. She weirdly just wanted to sit in this feeling for a while as she watched him. She had always found a strange sort of comfort in sadness, like it proved you had something to care about. And right now, that felt like the only thing in the world she was sure of.
"Hey."
She turned and saw Frank standing in the doorway again, as though silently asking if he was allowed back in.
"Hey," she said back, her voice wavering but not breaking as the urge to cry slowly dissipated. She gestured to the chair at the other side of the bed, and he sat.
"So, um… what happened?" she asked finally. She didn't know all of the details of what had happened that night at the Damage Control facility.
He resituated himself in his chair, looking down with crossed arms like he didn't quite want to say. "I uh… I shot him," he said finally. No beating around the bush.
Her eyes widened slightly, not having expected that to be the case. But she wasn't afraid. She knew whatever had happened was likely an accident. "Well why'd you go and do a dumbass thing like that?" she asked dryly.
He let out something close to a laugh. They shared that same sense of humor. "I was aiming for her," he explained, and she was grateful for the honesty.
"He jumped in front of her at the last second."
She looked back down at Peter, lying there on the bed. Silence filled the room for a minute, save for the beeping of the monitor. "…Why?" she asked. But deep down she already knew the answer.
"Cause that's just the kind of person he is," Frank shrugged. "He'd give his life up in exchange for the life of someone who was trying to kill him, if he saw even a glimmer of hope that they could change. He believes that there's good in everyone."
Tears welled up in her eyes again, and as she looked back over at Frank, she noticed that the same had happened to him. "I probably wouldn't have done that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she rolled her eyes in some attempt to break the tension.
He laughed again softly and nodded. "Yeah me neither, but that's because we're assholes," he said.
Another minute or so passed as their laughter faded naturally, and eventually MJ spoke up again. "He's gonna be okay though?" she asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, he's gonna be just fine," he promised her.
She cleared her throat, weighing whether or not she was allowed to ask for more information. "And um… and Jean? What happened with her?"
He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "She's a tough nut. She kept his mind active while he was down, it's the only reason he's alive now. I don't know what it is exactly that he said to her, but… he's really got a way of changing people," he said.
She smiled gently and nodded. "Yeah, I… I've gotten that impression," she admitted. "And where is Jean now?"
He shrugged. "Upstate somewhere I think. I've been giving her updates though. She seems awfully worried about Peter."
"Wait…," MJ frowned, looking around the room as a plan started to form in her mind. "Wait, you have her number?" she asked.
Frank raised an eyebrow in suspicion, nodding hesitantly. "Yeah, why?"
"Can I have it?"
He looked even more confused now as he shook his head. "No, what? Of course not. Why the Hell do you want her number?" he asked.
She shook her head as well and sighed. "I can't tell you. Just… please?"
But he was every bit as stubborn as she was, and he wasn't backing down. "No, not unless you tell me what for."
"It's not like I'm gonna do anything crazy, I just need it," she defended. "Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No"
"Frank"
"Girl"
Her eyes narrowed, and his did too. It was an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, with neither of them willing to stray. She didn't even take time to be offended by the fact that he didn't know her name.
But as she looked over at Peter, somehow this seemed to matter more than keeping her walls up like she always did. 'Withholding' or whatever. And so against all odds, the immovable object finally budged. "Okay fine, I just… I want her help with something," she said.
Frank only grew even more confused if at all possible. "Jean? With what?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes, realizing that he wasn't going to give her what she wanted unless she gave him the whole truth. "Ever since she took over everyone's minds, I've felt different. I think that when her powers grew like that, she was able to latch on to our memories somehow. She dug up stuff in my mind that even I can't find, and I want her to help me get it back," she admitted.
Frank's confused look stayed, but there was some empathy behind it. "What kind of stuff did you lose in there?" he asked.
Her gaze moved back to Peter as she avoided answering the question, and he caught on quickly.
"How… do you know him?" he asked. He only realized now that he had never really gotten a straight answer about that. It was obvious how much MJ meant to Peter, but he didn't know why.
She was the one crossing her arms now as she shrugged. "School probably?" she guessed. They were both young, and it would make sense that they had gone to school together.
He squinted in confusion once more, trying to piece together how she could possibly not know how they met. "Probably? You don't remember?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nobody does," she told him.
"Nobody? What do you mean by that?" he asked.
She sighed and leaned back as she thought over everything that had happened. The things she knew, and the things she was still trying to figure out. "I think a lot of people used to know Peter. Maybe they even knew he was Spider-Man, I'm not sure. But… something bad happened, and he had to make sure that nobody remembered him. So he got some wizard guy to put a spell on everyone and make them forget. But… I found a letter he wrote to me four years ago. That he never gave me. And he said we used to be together before this. I just can't remember," she said softly, looking down at her lap.
Frank was quiet for a moment. They both were. It was a heavy, hard to believe story.
Eventually, though, he responded. "So… so that's why he always kept the mask on this time. He didn't want to risk being exposed, and losing everyone again," he said. It felt like Peter finally made sense as a person.
"But… that doesn't answer why you wanna remember so badly," he said. "I mean I get you were together but… you're young. That was a long time ago, you probably would have been in highschool then, right?" he asked.
She nodded, knowing it didn't make much sense. "I know. And usually, I would never do something like this, I mean it goes completely against everything that I thought I knew about myself. But… when I'm near him, I mean I'm looking at a stranger, I'm talking to a stranger, but I don't feel like I'm with a stranger. And even after four years, he told me that he loves me. And if there's a chance that-… that I might…"
She trailed off, not even quite sure herself where she was going with this, or if she was ready to finish that sentence. "I think that both he and I deserve to know," she explained, wiping at a tear under her eye as it threatened to fall. She knew that peace would not exist for her until she was able to get this sorted out, or at least give it her best shot.
"Wow," Frank responded. "You know, maybe you're not such an asshole," he said. He went over to the little nurse's station and stole a pen, writing the phone number on a piece of scrap paper like she had asked.
She smiled gratefully as she took it. She definitely hadn't intended to open up that much, but it was oddly easier to do with someone she didn't really know, who seemed to only have about two facial expressions. "Thanks," she said, taking the paper as she stood to leave.
She made it to the door before turning back. "Oh, um, if you don't mind could you… not tell him I was here? Or that we talked about all of this? I just don't wanna worry him, or get his hopes up for something," she said.
"I won't tell," he assured her.
"Thanks." MJ reached down into her purse to get her phone, but her hand landed instead on her small sketchbook. It was still open to the drawing she had made of Ned and Peter doing Legos. With a gentle laugh, she pulled it out of her bag and set it up with the rest of the cards and photos. He deserved a happy memory to wake up to.
"Hopefully I'll see you around," she said to Frank as she reached the door again.
"Yeah, take care of yourself."
MJ made her way out of the hospital, dodging nurses and making sure that she was well out of earshot of anyone before she grabbed her phone and looked down at the scribbled out number in front of her.
This was it. This felt like her best shot at remembering Peter. Her heart rate picked up as she dialed the numbers, hoping that somehow this would all work out. It only rang a couple of times, but it felt like an eternity before she heard someone pick up on the other line.
"Hello?"