Chapter Text
It was like watching some sort of movie montage in her head. Scenes and pieces from what she had thought were insignificant moments before now, suddenly seemed like there was something...missing. Her high school prom, sitting on the roof during her break periods, the trip to Europe, they all seemed like there was someone there that was important. Like there was a color missing from a painting she had just noticed now.
And it seemed she had a name to fill that gap. Peter.
She hadn't believed him at first. There didn't seem to be a reason why she should. There was nothing familiar about his face or the way he talked. Then they went to see Ned.
For most of high school, MJ and Ned had been each others only friends. There had been a brief stint on the trip to Europe where Ned dated Betty Brant, but they broke up after a week.
That trip had always confused MJ. Ned had been off with Betty almost the entire time. She remembered Brad Davis trying to talk to her, but it seemed like she had just been off on her own the entire time.
Colors and lights and sounds played before her eyes. It felt like a giant, gaping hole was being reopened in her chest, so full of loss that she felt like crying.
Scratch that, she actually was crying.
She was crying but she couldn't move, so the tears just rolled down her cheeks as she watched something that wasn't there. Someone that wasn't there.
After what had seemed like an eternity, they all unfroze. The sounds of ambulances filled the air, once again joining the regular city sounds.
After MJ and Ned had made sure nothing was broken and everything was okay, they turned on the news. It just seemed like the right place to get news about everyone's favorite superhero.
"I'm standing here at the scene in the Department of Damage Control, where Spiderman battled an unknown villain. No one is being allowed inside." The reporter standing in front of the rubble raised a hand to her ear, listening intently to some sort of earpiece. "I'm just getting word that Spiderman has been seriously injured, and is being transferred to the New York City hospital."
MJ and Ned both gasped.
"Spiderman?" Ned said.
MJ stared at the screen, willing the reporter to say something else. She had gone through the same phase as everyone else. Trying to figure out his identity, wondering if she new Spiderman. Now she had an actual face. And a name. And a history she had supposedly been a part of.
"We wish him the best." The reporter said, before the screen switched to videos of crowds gathered in support of Spiderman. Already there were people flooding the streets, decking masks and banners.
"I wonder what happened." Ned said. "Maybe Spidey-Tracker knows something."
MJ wanted to say something snarky about Ned's pet project, but couldn't will herself to. She didn't remember him. Right? Then why was there this feeling of loss and heartache?
MJ's phone buzzed in her pocket. Paul, probably. He was obsessed with Spiderman, as Ned had put it. He had MJ set up a program that would alert him everytime a video or newspaper mentioned him.
She liked Paul. She really did. He was funny, always said the right thing when she sent him memes, and got along with Ned. He fit everything on the list
When MJ and Ned were in MIT, MJ had her first breakup. It wasn't a real relationship. They had only dated for a week. But she decided to make a list that every potential suitor had to fit. Mostly he just had to like Ned, which wasn't hard. He had to be funny, and get her humor. Most people didn't, which was totally fine, but she did want a boyfriend that wouldn't look at her weird everytime she said something.
The list was stored in a little box, along with a black dahlia necklace. She didn't know where the necklace came from. She just assumed someone had given it to her as a kid, and she didn't remember. It only had a couple petals, and there was such a deep feeling of attachment, MJ had stored it safely away.
"MJ!" Ned turned his phone towards MJ. "Spiderman!"
MJ squinted at the screen. It was covered in all sorts of gross smears, so the screen was barely visible. "Ned, you need to clean your phone."
"That's not important!" Ned tapped the screen. "Spidedman's at the hospital!"
"That's what the reporter said."
"He's been shot!"
MJ froze. "What?"
"Yeah! He's in critical condition."
"That's," MJ searched for a word. Sad felt inappropriate, as well as grammatically incorrect. Peter knew Ned, once upon a time. How much different would this be if some wizard hadn't erased him out of their lives? "Horrible." She decided on.
Ned changed the channel on the TV. This one showed an outside view of the hospital, intermixed with clips of Spiderman being loaded into an ambulance.
MJ couldn't stand watching it. These people seemed sincere about their grief, but it all felt to mainstream. No one knew who Peter was. There was no one to grieve him when he dies. She supposed she didn't really count. She didn't deserve to count.
"I'll go order some food." MJ pushed herself off of the couch. "Pizza?"
It wasn't really a question. Ned could eat pizza everyday of his life and never get sick of it. He practically had at MIT.
MJ called the pizza place, then collapsed in her bed. The last couple days had been a rollercoaster, too say the least. From falling off a roof to finding out that she had actually been under a magic spell that made her forget her ex-boyfriend.
She itched to just forget everything that had happened. Maybe it was easier to forget.
MJ was seriously second doubting the thought process that had led her here. If not for Frank standing sentry outside the door, she would have bolted the second she stepped in.
MJ wasn't squeamish. In fact, she rather enjoyed gore. But hospitals were a different story. There was always something so artificial about them, like there was something to hide. Grief became a performance, like somehow it would bring that person back.
There was something strangely heartwarming about the crowds that had gathered for their Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman. There were crowds right now, all holding up handmade signs. Most of them were egregious puns that would have made Ned proud.
"Hey," MJ said, unsure of what to do. She fiddled with the paper that had been her excuse to come here. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." She knew it was cowardly. Coming here when he couldn't hear here, to try and shed some of the guilt that had been slowly but surely gnawing at her since she had told him that she didn't love him. It had felt like the right thing to say at the time. She didn't know him. Of course she didn't love him. And logically it still made sense. But for some reason, her stomach dropped everytime she thought about him.
Peter, for his part, was still comatose. His chest rose up and down in slow, even breaths. Bloodied scratches still covered his face, but he still looked like the boy on Tower Bridge.
MJ tried to resist crying. It was something she could almost quite recall, but couldn't quite picture. Tower Bridge. In London. The memory was accompanied by so much love and happiness she would have gagged if she was watching herself.
She left her drawing propped up against some flowers. His bedside was covered in balloons and flowers, so MJ decided to bring something a little more personal.
On the back she had scribbled a note.
Maybe we could start over
MJ
718-555-8021