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There was a sound that had always comforted her. The song of iron and fuel, the steady hum of an engine. The bus riding ever on the endless road, the wandering shrine of vagabonds and outcasts. The forever home of one Jean Grey.
And she had found herself home once more.
Thinking on it now, her head pressed softly against the window, perhaps “comforted” was the wrong word. It was a sound she did not hate, and one she did not love. It was neither friend nor foe. But yes, it was home. It was the sound of her childhood and, she assumed, the sound of the rest of her life. It was a sound she was used to, if nothing else. And you would always choose pain you were used to over that which you weren’t, no? There is a comfort in that. So maybe it was the right word after all.
This was, of course, the dilemma she was currently faced with. The bus ground to a halt, and the road ahead split into two. On one path lay solitude. The lonesome road, and the road she had always been on. The road she was used to. She had walked this path all her life, so what harm would there be in staying on it? She had made it this far on her own. Her mind told her to take it. To walk where she knew, to run and be comforted. And after all, she was always the kind of person to follow her mind, she lied to herself. Her heart was ever the beat she danced to. She knew this.
And her heart bade her follow the other path. The path a new friend had shown her.
“… Hello?”
She had done this recently, but it felt easier now. As if he was leaving the door open for her to come in whenever she liked. It took a few moments for him to respond, and a sharp pain hit her hard right before he did. Did he just get punched?
“Oh, hey! Sorry Jean, a little busy right now!”
Shit. Stupid, stupid, of course he was. He was Spider-Man. The red-blue sun of New York, and he surely had far more important things to do than indulge a wayward girl. She couldn’t just barge in whenever she felt like it.
“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.” The response came scrambled and hasty, embarrassment flushing her cheeks red. Who did she think she was?
“No, no, it’s okay!” he shot back immediately. “Just gimme a sec, uhh… I would say I’ll call you back, but I can’t really do that huh? Tell you what, mind call me again in like ten minutes. I’ll try to wrap this up quick!”
She could wait ten minutes. Maybe snoop around his head a bit, poke at the cobwebs and learn everything there was to know about her new friend. Friend. The word felt odd in her mind. Comforting? Was that the right word this time? If so, it was a different sort of comfort to the sounds of the bus and the road. She liked it more. Probably. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about many things regarding Peter or this new path she had never known, but she knew she wanted to stay on it. She knew she wanted to speak to him.
And so she waited, and ten minutes felt like the death and rebirth of the cosmos. All the while she listened to the sounds of Peter’s mind; the rushing of the wind, the clamor of the city streets, the voices of people he cherished and those he barely knew at all. They were the sounds of everything he loved, and god he had so much love in his heart.
“… Jean?”
The voice came as a shock.
“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were still… in there. It’s still a bit new to me, this whole telepathic communication thing, and I didn’t really expect you to, uhh, come visit I guess. Were you in there this whole time?”
“Um. No,” she lied. She’d been in his mind for the past ten minutes. Peter could tell, but he felt it more polite to let her keep her facade. “I was just about to ‘mind call’ you, as you said.”
“Well, you got me. So what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing actually. If I caught you at a bad time then—”
“No, Jean, it’s alright,” he interrupted. “I just finished, webbed up some bad guys who I thought had a lead on Metzger’s whereabouts, turns out they didn’t, and now I’m enjoying a well-earned lunch. Hearing you out of nowhere did surprise me a bit, but it’s fine, you know? That punch didn’t even hurt.”
“You’re looking for Metzger?” she questioned. “You… you don’t need to do that. For me, I mean, if that’s why you’re, you know…” She’d caused him enough problems. This wasn’t his mess to clean up.
“Either way, with all the shady stuff he was up to, I can’t just look the other way. Who knows how many other people he hurt, or worse.”
Silence, for a moment and one more. She bit her lip. Or whatever the equivalent action was for a telepathic conversation.
“Thanks, Peter.”
She felt him smile.
“Thank you, actually, for saving my life. I just realized I never got the chance to say that.”
She felt herself smile.
It seemed silly to say that that was so like him considering how briefly she’d known him, but she knew him. And she knew that that was so like him; to help because he could, because he felt it was his responsibility. It felt sillier to assume that he was doing it just for her. She could pretend, at least.
“Um, so…” she thought, wondering what she actually wanted to talk about. She hadn’t really considered this part. “You said you were having lunch? It seems like…” she trailed, rolling her tongue around in her mouth and trying to focus on the mental projection of flavor that Peter’s mind conjured. It was a fun little game to try and guess what it was without directly reading his thoughts. Whatever it was tasted incredible.
“Are you piggybacking on my tastebuds? Trying to steal the taste of my lunch?”
“Maybe. It’s…” She was getting a strong hit of salt, a little crunch of tang here and there. Were those pickles? “Hmm... a sandwich. Deli ham, cheese, mayonnaise, and pickles.”
“Oh come on, that’s uncanny! You cheated, didn’t you? You can just think of what I’m having.”
“I didn’t!” she countered, more enthusiastically than she expected out of herself. She could damn near hear a giggle in her mind. “I swear. It’s making me hungry, actually.”
“Well,” he thought, taking another bite. She tasted more of it, and then wanted more of it. “It’s from Delmar’s, the—”
“—best sandwiches in Queens. I saw a shirt with that name on it when I, uhh, looked around your apartment.” She almost had time to stop herself from bringing it up. The sandwich had slowed her reactions.
“Ha, yeah,” he responded, a soft breath and a gentle one. “Well, next time you can just come over. You’ve always got a place with me. I’ll take you to Delmar’s and you can have one for yourself.”
She knew he was going to offer something like that, even if he was just being nice. Surely he knew New York was no safe place for her after everything she’d done. But of course, she didn’t need to read his mind to know how open his heart was. She wondered if he danced to its beat too.
“Thanks, but I don’t know if I’m ever coming around there again. I think people like me just do better on the road, always going somewhere and never arriving.” She looked out the window once again. The trees outside were getting thicker and taller as the bus continued its ceaseless journey. It was impossible to see past them, to know where she was. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. She never had a destination in mind.
Peter was silent then, no response uttered or thought. But she could feel him. She knew he had something to say. She would let him say it if he really wanted to.
The buildings in front of his eyes were as thick and tall as ever they were. He could see through them, as he always could, as if they weren’t there at all. As if the city was laid flat and he could walk or glide or swing wherever he wished. He knew where he was, that this was his home, and how much it mattered to him. His destination was here, and he never wished to leave. He understood then that he couldn’t truly help her, at least on his own.
Naturally, he would still try.
“I think people need a home,” he began. “Whatever kind it is, or wherever it is. It doesn’t have to be a place, but I think it has to be something constant. Something you can wake up to every day and know that you can rely on it being there again tomorrow.”
Her eyes remained glued on the passing blur of trees. “And for you, it’s New York?”
“And its people, and the way the sun peeks through the buildings in the morning, and how the honks and sirens make me go deaf at rush hour. Heck, even the petty crimes that never seem to stop. It’s constant. It’s home.”
“If somewhere like that even exists for me,” she scoffed. “I have no idea how to find it. I haven’t had constant since I could jump into other people’s minds. I guess even my own mind isn’t constant.”
“Then you start with me.”
“Hm?” The trees thinned out, just a bit.
“It’s like I said, right? You have me. I can be your constant. You ring me up whenever you feel like it and I’ll be here to pick up. Don’t even worry about catching me while I’m dealing with bad guys. I could use the challenge.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Right, like that smack on the jaw you got earlier? I felt that you know.”
“Hey, again, it didn’t even hurt. And I was rusty, I haven’t been out on patrol in a while.”
It was quite cute, she thought, how insecure he seemed to be about that one slip-up. Maybe she’d try to catch him on patrol again.
“But anyway,” he continued. “I’m serious. You’ve got my mind number whenever you need it. Mind call me anytime and I’ll mind answer—”
“—You really don’t have to keep saying it like that.”
“But I think it’s funny.”
“Peter, have you ever had someone you were fighting actually laugh at your jokes?”
“Not yet, and I find it quite hurtful.”
“Maybe they don’t find you funny.”
He gasped in mock offense, hand raised to his mouth. “Ms. Grey, do you know how much you wound me?”
She laughed again. She could never let him know how funny she found him. He’d never let it go.
“Well, Mr. Parker, you’ll have to keep trying with me I suppose. I will allow you to practice your quips and jokes. They will be graded harshly but fairly.”
It was his turn to laugh now, and the sound caught her off-guard. He laughed a gentle laugh, soft and almost shy, but it felt to her loud and booming. It was nothing like the rest of him and at once everything he was. She could get used to the sound. The trees were replaced now with an open field, and a crossroads ahead once again splitting forth like branches. She remained on the road she was on, her feet tap, tap, tapping to the beat of her heart.
She was comforted where she was, and where she felt she was going. This time, she knew it was the right word.