Chapter Text
“Those people are gone. That life is over. You are either Peter Parker or you are Spiderman.” He heard as he opened his eyes. The dim morning light streaming through the industrial skylight caused some minor strain on his eyes. He did not bother to look for who spoke. This had become somewhat of a morning tradition. At first, the voice would make the hair on his nape and arm stand up, and he would furiously search his loft for Jean. But that reaction had only lasted a morning or two. Now, two and a half weeks later, he had grown to accept the occasional morning alarm. With Jean’s disappearance, he had even begun to like hearing her voice in the morning. Unlike with Ned and MJ, Jean had no socials, so he had no window into her life. Even if he was just imagining the voice on the occasional morning, it was better than nothing.
He sat down at his desk and woke up E.V. before groggily rubbing his eyes and leaning forward on his arm. He absently played with an old coffee cup as he waited for E.V. to finish resuming his workstation. Peter knew what she was going through, he did not need to be a telepath and jump into her mind to know. He wished she had stuck around. He understood that too, even if he learned that running would not make things any better. He knew his aunt’s words had comforted her, but a few words from a woman Jean had never known could only do so much.
When she was ready, she would return. So long as she was not actively causing harm and mass property damage, he was okay with that. Her name and identity had not been publicized to the press yet and if Peter had his way, it would not be. Damage Control might be under heavy investigation and restructuring, but that did not excuse their actions or their lack of real oversight and commitment to ethics. All it had taken to keep Jean’s name out of the press was a threat or two regarding the Department’s inhumane treatment of mutants, especially Sara. He did not have any exact proof, but those in power had seen the City’s commitment to him. If he made any accusations in public, there was sure to be outcry. For now, things were stable.
Not that Peter thought Jean’s actions were acceptable. Bruce was still on sabbatical, repairs to the city were still being made, and there were countless people both physically harmed or mentally harmed. When she returned, he would convince her of the need to make amends to the public. His wrist burned as he thought of a certain police cruiser being launched into the air and a dark-haired cop lying in her own blood on the street.
He grimaced in pain as he fought with his wrist to release the spasm. He pushed on the tendons and tried to massage it out before being momentarily distracted by the dull hum of a notification. Looking up, he saw a text from Ned. “Come over, we have work to do.” Peter snorted at Ned’s use of the word “work.” By work, he meant assembling Legos and watching a movie. Still, the momentary distraction was enough to allow his wrist to release.
Peter reached up to grab his phone before typing out a response. “Sorry, busy. I have some real work to do.” He replied.
Ned replied a moment later. “It is Sunday. Are you hourly or something?” the text read.
Peter snorted as he looked up at his system waiting for him. “Sorry, I have to-” He began typing before stopping himself. Traditions died hard, it seemed. Why was he trying so hard to avoid hanging out with Ned? He had spent years practically cyberstalking him and MJ. Now, his once best friend was inviting him over and he was looking for excuses not to go. True, he had work to do and he had bills to pay. Nor was the cost of keeping up Spiderman negligible. But it was nothing that could not wait until later or even until Monday…
Aloneness. Here he was mentally lecturing Jean when he still had his own habits to break. “E.V., cancel that.” He said, stripping down and running to the shower. “I will swing over after a shower.” He quickly sent. He was halfway over to the bathroom and one pant leg down when his back flared up and sent a burning sensation down his legs. His knees buckled from underneath him and he was sent falling forward, his pants and underwear still half off.
Peter let out a grunt of pain as he rolled over. Not everything was back in working order. His wound had healed over nicely according to E.V., but E.V. was not a doctor. Nor did she have eyes or really the ability to evaluate a wound. She could scan for biochemical signs of infection or atrophy, but not evaluate it very well. His back spasmed painfully as he stood up and walked in a much slower, more controlled way to the bathroom. “Arachnid hormone levels remain dangerously elevated relative to-” He heard as he shut the door. “Yeah, yeah. What do you think I am doing now? I am going to go socialize, you helicopter AI.” He replied as he turned on the shower.
Peter flew through the city with no real direction in mind. Hanging out with Ned again had been a fun distraction. In the moment, he felt great. But a part of him wondered if all of it was like some big cheat day. It felt great to do occasionally, but afterward you always regretted it and felt sick. A cheat day once in a while was fine, perhaps even good. But every day? You would eventually become unhealthy.
He and Ned fit back together like two Lego pieces in a set. There were moments where it felt like nothing at all had changed and then moments where it was blatantly obvious that everything was different. Perhaps something of their connection really did remain deep within Ned’s mind, just like how he had spontaneously recovered their old handshake.
But that was all and the more Peter hung out with Ned, the more he wondered if it was enough. It had been more than four years, more than a fifth of their life. Ned had changed; he had changed, he was changing. It was obvious that they still clicked together, but just because two Legos clicked together did not mean they were in the correct position.
When MJ arrived with her boyfriend from brunch with his folks, any comfort and enjoyment he had gained with Ned quickly fled. Peter was ready to leave. The worst part about it all was that MJ’s boyfriend was actually nice. Nice to him and Ned and seemed to get their references and not just hang out in an effort to get along with his girlfriend’s best friend and roommate.
It would have been so much easier if her boyfriend was an asshole.
Peter could only stomach ten minutes or so with MJ and the boyfriend before getting up to leave. He and Ned tried to get him to stay and keep working on the set but Peter wanted no more of it. “I’ll seeya, MJ.” He said awkwardly, cringing immediately as she walked him to the door.
“Are you alright, Peter?” She asked quietly
“Yeah, why?” He replied, nervous that he had been blatantly obvious in his dislike for her boyfriend.
MJ shrugged and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. You only just got out of the hospital after being shot by that crazy gun nut. I mean, have you been checked out? Cleared to return to your hobby?” She said quietly, glancing back at Ned and her boyfriend.
“I thought you said you liked Frank- doesn’t matter. I am fine, MJ. I just have some work to do.” He lied. MJ likely did not believe him, even before they were close, she was weirdly great at knowing when he lied.
She did not call him out for the lie, she had read his note, knew his feelings. But she was not cruel, she would let him keep his decency as a shield. “Okay, Peter… Peter, your eyes…” she began, looking at him deeply.
Peter did not need her to tell him what she saw, he could feel the change. “Yeah, okay, MJ. Thanks for having me over! Gotta run!” He said, rubbing his eyes as he simultaneously turned and pushed his way out the door.
“Peter, wait!” She exclaimed, but it was too late, he had already jumped down to the next flight of stairs. “Peter!” He heard it once more before pushing out of the building.
Peter sat on the edge of the roof of his building, having found his way back. He had accepted that he was changing and that that was okay. Jean had let him see that. But just because he had come to terms with the change did not mean it was instantaneous or even just quick. He wondered if he would wake up one day with an empty skin suit lying next to him, having shed it.
Peter shuddered at the thought.
Some small part of him had been hopeful that Ned and MJ would regain their memories or, failing that, they would quickly fall back into their old pattern. MJ would leave her boyfriend and Ned would be his guy in the chair. Perhaps that would happen eventually. But only after he shaped things to be that way. The truth was, his MJ, his Ned, were dead and gone for all intents and purposes. He had changed just as much as them, if not more. He was just as different. Shaping MJ and Ned into his girlfriend and his best friend would require him to reshape himself too. Into the awkward high school superhero who was in way above his head. It would require him to wear the suit for the rest of his life, especially around the two people he was supposed to be able to take it off with. .
Jean had been correct. That life was over, though not for the reasons she may have thought.
Peter suddenly felt his back and wrists tighten and E.V.’s voice came from within his mask, which sat off to the side. He did not need the AI to tell him what was occurring. His Arachnid proportion was increasing yet again. This time, he let the change take him. The baseline had always only been just that. A baseline. Some variation in the baseline was not inherently a bad thing, it was just a change from what was once his normal.
He felt the need to cocoon himself but resisted the urge as he made his way downstairs. There was nothing special about a spider’s cocoon. They made them just to feel safe and protected. He locked the door to his apartment and lay down on the couch, his head pounding as he began to sweat deeply.
Peter let sleep take him at some point as he hoped he would wake up with all the changes complete. It was a state of constant nausea with an associated migraine and whole-body fatigue. When his heart beat, there was what felt like electric shocks shooting through his muscles. Sleep was vastly preferable.
His head still pounded and his body felt even worse when he finally woke up. But the electric shocking feeling was gone. He opened his eyes and prepared to sit up but was pushed back down. Peter focused his eyes and looked around in confusion. His vision was hazy and his head flared up even worse from the movement. “Aunt May?” He asked, seeing a woman sitting beside him as she wiped his forehead with a wet rag. He lay back and let her take care of him. He felt safer with her at his side.
“Water, please.” He told her, and a moment later, he felt a straw on his lips.
“I have missed you so much, May.” He told her quietly, his heart beating. He knew it was not her. After the confusion wore off from his nap, he knew it could not be. May was dead. But the feeling of his aunt at his side, tending to him when he was sick as a child, felt so similar to this now. Whoever it was beside him, he did not care. He kept his eyes closed and wished the delusion to last for as long as possible.
Eventually he drifted off again.
When he woke up again, he felt better. His body still felt incredibly sore and fatigued. But the nausea and headache were gone. Peter opened his eyes, his heart beating at the remote possibility that it really had been his aunt who had taken care of him.
Nobody was at his side this time. For a moment he wondered if the whole thing had been a hallucination, but when he saw the sick station beside his bed, he knew someone had cared for him. For starters, how had he made it to his bed? Secondly, who had put him in breathable casual wear?
Peter sat up and pushed his legs off the side of his bed before leaning forward. “Lie back down, you simple spider.” He heard a voice call, and Peter looked up.
“What?” He asked in alarm. They were still there in his apartment. Peter stood up and immediately regretted it. He leaned against a nearby wall as he caught his bearings. Just when he felt ready to stand up straight on his own, a wave of nausea and sickness returned and he grabbed the small plastic trashcan beside his nightstand. His throat burned as God knows what came back up. Certainly not food.
He tensed as he felt a small, warm hand on his back. Still, he was not exactly in any shape to reject the move as he stood, leaning forward with the trashcan under his face. When he set the trashcan back down, a damp rag appeared, and Peter gratefully took it. Having cleared any throw-up from his face, he turned to look at who was playing nurse.
“Jean.” He practically breathed out. He supposed it made sense. The more realistic, hopeful side of him had hoped it was MJ who had been at his side, but that made no sense. She had no way to know he was sick or even where he lived. She had been on the street below once, but under the circumstances he doubted she remembered the street very well, nor that he lived nearby.
DeWolff likely knew where he lived but he somewhat doubted she would be so gentle with him or take so much time to help him like this. She had children of her own.
There was the blonde girl from downstairs who used to say hi to him. But then again, all she seemed to do was glare at him nowadays.
He wondered if it was sad or pathetic that there were so few people to come to mind.
Jean smiled at him before pushing him lightly back against his bed. He fell back and sat on the mattress. “Lie back, you simple spider. Your fever only just broke.” She told him. Peter did not listen to her as instead, he took her in. He looked her up and down from head to toe. There were no injuries or signs of distress. She looked significantly better than the last time he had seen her.
She still wore her hair in a messy bun, but her face was clean and healthy and she wore a set of clothes that made her look almost normal. Denim jeans and an ESU sweater. He did a double take at the sweater. “Is that my-“ he began, pointing at the sweater before she cut him off.
“I have worked too hard for you to get worse again. Lay back, Peter.” She ordered and this time, he listened. Though he puffed the pillow behind him and sat up against the bed frame.
“Thank you, Jean.” He told her, realizing he had not said so yet.
She ignored him as she went back into the kitchen for a moment. “How long was I out?” He asked. She did not answer at first but came back carrying a bowl of something hot.
“Two days, give or take.” She told him as she handed him the soup. His eyes widened dramatically. “Two days!” He exclaimed as he set the bowl on his nightstand and began looking around for his phone.
“Where is-“
“Looking for this?” Jean asked as she suddenly held the bifolding device up.
Peter reached for it, but Jean pulled back. “Whoa, whoa, not so fast. Eat your soup first. Simple spider.” She said, the last part much quieter.
“Jean, thank you so much for all this. But I am fine now, really. DeWolff and Ned and-“ Peter began explaining.
“Relax, Peter. I told DeWolff that you are taking a much-needed sick day. I told Ned that too, actually. How much do you work? You work at home, work as Spiderman, and now you are working with Ned on something?” Jean asked.
Peter felt his face heat up slightly as he considered telling her the truth. That “work” was just code for Legos with Ned. “Did anyone else text?” He asked instead.
Jean snorted as she pocketed the phone again and pulled up a chair. “Oh, you mean MJ? Yeah, she wanted to come over and check on you, but I told her you did not want her to.”
“What!” Peter exclaimed angrily as he began sliding his feet off the bed again.
Jean’s head fell back in laughter and Peter realized she was just messing with him. “Relax, spider-boy, nobody else.” Peter begrudgingly ate the soup and refused to admit that it was good soup
“What are you even doing here?” He asked as he set the finished bowl to the side and looked back up at the girl. Her eyes widened briefly, clearly hurt, before returning to normal. Peter sat up and held a hand up. “Not that- I did not mean it like that. What I meant to say was: what were you doing here? How did you know I was sick?”
Jean looked away for a moment before looking at his chest. “I was coming to say goodbye. I did knock… at first. You did not come to the door and I could feel you… feel that you were… Finally, I let myself in and found you half-dead.” She explained, looking back up at his eyes.
“Half-dead? No, I was not-” Peter began, holding up a hand and shaking his head before stopping and looking at her closely. “Goodbye?” He asked, tasting the word as his eyes narrowed. “You mean you have been here the entire time? In New York? Where have you been, Jean?” He demanded, finding it difficult to cover up his irritation.
Jean looked at him oddly. “What do you mean? Where else would I be?” She asked.
Peter shook his head. “Frank said… I figured you left after I woke up. I mean, Jean, they are still searching for you. If they catch you again after what happened the last time. Assuming they treat you ethically this time, there is not much I can do.” He told her.
Jean snorted as she grabbed the bowl and stood up. “They did not catch me, Peter. You did. And it was your inhibitor that held me.” She told him, looking at him closely before spinning around for the kitchen.
Peter watched her absently as she washed the dish and set it aside. When she flipped the hood of his ESU sweater up over her head and moved toward the door, he stiffened. “Wait, Jean. Are you leaving?” He asked, already sliding out of his bed again.
The sheets tightened around his legs, stopping him. “Relax, I am just going to buy some Tylenol and Tums.” She said as she walked. She turned back to him after grabbing the door handle. “You know, I have never known anyone to run out of Tylenol…” She commented before swinging the door open and leaving.
Peter wasted no time in getting out of bed and moving toward a nearby window that overlooked the street. A minute or so later, he saw his blue hood making its way down the street. He turned away and went to his workstation. “What the hell, E.V., were you just going to let me sleep while some stranger was looking around in my apartment?” He asked as he looked around at his messy place. Peter was thankful he had just run a load of laundry before his most recent episode of spider-related syncope. If anything, his apartment looked cleaner than he remembered leaving it. He cringed at the thought that she had thought it so bad she had to clean it herself.
“Jean is not a stranger. You have labeled her as a friend. Would you like to relabel her as ‘enemy’ or ‘stranger?’” E.V. responded and Peter shook his head.
“Neither, neither. Just wake me up next time, would you?” He told the AI before sitting down. He was feeling much stronger already, but he could tell he had just gone through a period of sickness and inflammation with how sore he was. He had not expected it to hit him so hard, especially not for days on end and even afterward. He had told nobody of what was happening to him. He wondered how long he would have had to disappear for before someone came looking for him. Surely DeWolff would come eventually. Likely MJ and Ned too. But neither of them knew where he lived. DeWolff would find out if she seriously tried to look. But other than them?
“You would have called for help eventually, right, E.V.?” He asked, as he absently rotated in his chair.
“You have no close friends currently. No one who both knows your identity and where you live. Alerting MJ was calculated to be a statistically bad choice based on past data. I calculated that I should wait five days, thirteen hours, and six minutes before alerting anyone. Who should I have called?” The AI robotically asked.
“Ouch, you could just start with 911 next time, E.V., after like… I don’t know… two days or so… Humans die without water after three, you know that, right?” He asked, doing a double take as he considered why the AI did not factor that into its calculation.
“Preference is added to the system yet inconsequential in this case. Jean Grey arrived within six hours-” The AI began but Peter zoned out as he saw a notification pop up on his screen.
“This set will not build itself and MJ is starting to get pissed that it's still all over the living room table. Am I going to finish it without you?” Ned asked and Peter snorted. Jean may have taken his phone, but what does that matter anymore? All his texts and calls came to his computer too. “Sorry, I have just been pretty sick recently. Much better now. I will come by later-” He began typing before stopping himself. He glanced at the door. If he replied, then Jean would know he had access to his messages. She seemed to think he needed another day of bed rest, if she read his text, what would she do? He decided he could not send that, even if he wanted to escape his apartment for a while and get some fresh air. Jean had been there for the last two days if E.V. was correct. She did not have to do that. She had already saved his life if Frank was to be believed.
More than that, he knew that as casually as she was acting, she was still grieving. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. He did not want her to think he was ditching her as soon as possible after waking up. And telling Ned that he would come over later while she was out buying meds would be doing that.
Peter deleted his message and moved his cursor to close the application before a video call came in. His eyes widened in panic. Ned must have seen him typing before stopping. Was Jean getting the same call on his phone right now? He answered the call half a second later. He did not want Ned to think he was ducking him either. “Hey man, so are you coming or what? You are not still at work, are you?” He asked, his forehead furrowing as Ned was clearly leaning forward to look at Peter’s background. Peter stiffened and pulled himself forward so that less of the background was visible in the picture. “Woah, is that your apartment? It looks nice, give us a tour.” Ned demanded as he sat back and turned the phone. MJ had been sitting on another couch reading. She looked up and Peter’s chest clenched. She waved. “Hey, Peter.” She said, disinterested at first, before setting the book down and leaning closer.
“Hey guys, ah, you know what? Next time, I am at my computer right now, not my phone. I can’t really move my webcam, you know? Sorry, Ned, I was just going to say that I have been sick recently- I am much better now but-” He began before MJ cut him off.
“You look like shit.” She said in her distinctive matter-of-fact way of speaking. Peter ran a hand through his hair and wanted to groan. He had not showered in days. How had Jean even stomached him?
“Yeah, I know…” Peter began, laughing it off lightly. “It has just been an odd few days. A lot of sleeping.”
MJ leaned even closer as she seemed to be studying Ned’s phone. “No, I mean you look bad. The whites of your eyes look almost grey. Have you lost weight? Your skin looks-” MJ began before glancing over at Ned.
“Have you been in for a checkup, Peter? You know, since your last stint in the hospital? Maybe you-” She began before Ned pointed the phone back at himself. “You were in the hospital? When?” He exclaimed.
Peter frowned and shook his head as if the suggestion were the most outlandish thing he had heard. “Hospital? What hospital? It was more like… an urgent care. Yeah, it was an urgent care, MJ.” He called a bit louder so that she would definitely hear him. “And I am fine, I’m fine. Just a little sick, was all.” He explained.
Ned began responding but Peter suddenly looked toward his front door. “Well, if you are so fine, then you should have no problem coming over. Or should we come to you? You know what, we’re on our way.” Ned said, the background behind him dropping away as he stood up.
Peter glanced back at the phone for a moment. How had she gotten so close without him hearing her? His senses must still be recovering. In the past, he could always hear when someone was on his floor and on the stairway leading up at least a few floors. But she seemed near the door. “You do not know where I live, Ned…” Peter said absently, as he considered what to do. He needed to wrap things up.
Peter turned back to his desk and moved the cursor to the hang-up button. “Alright guys, I’ll talk to you later, thanks for-”
Ned began speaking over him. “Exactly, so send me your address and we will come visit. Come on, Peter, I want to see your apartment.” He said and Peter grimaced slightly.
He heard the footsteps coming ever closer. ”And I want to show it to you; now is just really not that great of a time. Next time, alright-“
The door opened and he did not doubt who it was. “Peter?” He heard Jean’s voice call.
Peter was furiously readjusting the cursor, which had dislodged from hovering over the hang-up button. “Wait, who is that, Pe-“ Ned began saying as he suddenly disappeared from the screen and then Peter shut it down.
Peter stood up quickly and turned around. “Jean!” He exclaimed as she stopped midway into the apartment and looked at him. “Who was that?” She asked.
Peter looked at her, confused. “Who was what?” He asked, moving away from the computer and back to his bed.
She looked at him doubtfully and pointed at the computer. “Who were you just talking to on the computer?” She asked as he sat down on the end of his bed.
Peter stared at the redhead with what he hoped was a genuinely thoughtful expression. “Who was I-“ he looked over his shoulder and back at the computer. “Oh, that? Yeah, I was just talking to E.V., you know, running some calculations. Considering some data points.” He replied naturally.
He could tell Jean did not believe him based on the blank stare she shot him. “Uh huh.” She pulled his phone. “Then why did it just show an active call between you and Ned? Also, you do know you have read receipts enabled, right? If I did not read the message but your phone shows otherwise, then who did?” She asked and Peter grimaced. He nodded deeply.
“Oh yeah, Ned too. Yeah, he called me, that’s why I got up, actually. I talked to him for a minute.” Peter replied, inwardly wondering why he was trying to keep up the lie. He may have briefly thought she was May, but she wasn’t. He should not fall into any sort of familial role with her when she was not family. She had saved his life, but he was older than her and more mature, he should act like it
Jean moved past him to his nightstand and laid out two bottles of medication. “Why are you trying to hide the fact that you talked to Ned? Why would you think that I would not be okay with that?” She asked, not looking back at him but instead looking out the window beside his bed.
“I was not-“ he began before stopping. “You took my phone, I don’t know. I figured… I don’t know what I figured.” He replied honestly.
She turned to him quickly with a deep frown. “I took your phone because you’re still recovering and I did not want you getting blasted by police scanner alerts. I did not want to have to tie you to your bed or make you feel guilty about missing out.” She said quickly, as if she was irritated for even having to explain herself.
“You are such a simple spider! What did you think? That I wanted to keep you locked in here? To keep you away from your friends? Like I kept a quarter of Manhattan locked? I am glad that you called and talked to your friend. God knows you needed to, I have been in your head, remember?” she trailed off and Peter stood and stepped closer to her.
She watched him carefully as he approached and he felt very guilty again suddenly. He felt he had been in her mind too. Perhaps he had, if you looked at the events of Roosevelt Island in a certain way. He had been in the prison, the closest one to her, while her mind spread out like a gel across the city.
“Thank you, Jean. Thank you for taking care of me while I was out.” He stated. There were certain other things he wanted to say, like how he did not blame her for what happened on the island. He held her responsible for other actions of hers, but not that. Yet he knew that could come later. She needed to hear him thanking her first. She was not walking through a fog alone, he had seen she was trying to move forward.
He smiled. “If I promise not to go out as Spideman today, can I have my phone back?”
Jean snorted. “Two days.” She replied. “Done.” He said.
“No matter what the call is. Two days.” She added.
“Fine, two days, no matter what.” He told her and held out an expectant hand.
When she returned his phone, he sat back on his bed and leaned back smugly. “I probably would not have gone out today, anyway. I really do feel like I just got hit by a train. Which has happened before. So I know what I am talking about.” He told her.
Jean narrowed her eyes at him before leaning forward and grabbing his wrist. “No, nuh-uh. If you are well enough to get up when I leave and then lie about it, then you are well enough to stay up. Come on, we have both been cramped in here for too long.” She told him as she pulled him up with surprising strength.
“What happened to bed rest, Nurse Jean?” He asked but followed her anyway.
“Don’t call me that. Once you are over the initial hump, light exercise is the best cure for sickness. So come on.” Jean told him as she flipped up his hood again.