Log: Peter & MJ Who: Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson When: Evening, Tuesday, February 12, 2008 Where: MJ's mother's apartment, the Bronx What: Mary Jane and Peter go to check in on her mother and what they find isn't good.
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It was freezing in there.
MJ's mother had been living without heat, without power. Without anything, really, the way things were going, and it wouldn't have been a far cry to suggest she may have lost her job, too, because of her humanity. So when they got to the apartment, Peter ended up zipping up his coat even further, rubbing his hands together as he stood beside Mary Jane, taking in the sight that met them when they'd found her mother. Her mother, who looked huddled up in bed and ... didn't seem to be breathing.
"Mrs. Watson...?"
The apartment was a mess. The building itself had been hit hard, mutants coming in and spraypainting SAPIEN on doors, and while it had been poorly painted over and damage mostly repaired, it seemed obvious that someone like Mrs. Watson wouldn't have wanted to leave the apartment. A glance at the kitchen and it looked like she'd gone through all the food and given up on cleaning. The apartment looked like a crazy person lived there.
MJ stepped out of the kitchen, pushing an empty tomato soup can aside with her toes. "Mom---?" The door had been locked and MJ had to use a spare key, and for a while it seemed like Mrs. Watson wasn't home. "Oh----God, mom. Hey----" Sleeping, or scared, or something. Rustling past Peter, she sank down onto the bed and took her shoulder. "Mom, wake up, it's me and Pete----"
Peter was careful when he moved over, easing down onto the bed as if he expected MJ or her mother to spook if he moved too fast. Paranoid of the worst, Peter reached over, hand shaking even as he gently touched her neck for a pulse --- hoping he wouldn't get that far, that she'd wake up and smack him. "Mrs. Watson, it's Peter. We didn't bring May, but you could come back with us and..." He faltered. "---Mrs. Watson?"
MJ shifted slightly, leaning back. "..Mom? Hey. Mom." She shook her gently, and then she was pulling down the blanket. "Mama---? Wake up..." Mrs. Watson was pale, her color wrong, her body far too still. She wasn't breathing, she wasn't moving, and MJ was starting to shake, looking around the apartment as if this was some kind of joke and her real mother was elsewhere.
For once, Peter couldn't think of anything to say. He'd been afraid of this, they both had been -- MJ, especially -- but ... God, that didn't make it any easier to actually deal with. Rather than reach out, rather than try to comfort Mary Jane right away, Peter backed off, shaking his head and running a hand over his face.
MJ looked back to her mother, and opposite from Peter, she moved closer. A shaking hand touched her mother's graying hair, smoothed it back. "Mama----" It was shrill now, the panic starting to set in. She was clinging, burying her face against her mother's shoulder. "Don't... don't, please don't... wh... Peter... Peter----"
Peter was her hero. Peter solved everything, didn't he? Didn't he? He saved her life, he rescued her from all the scary things, he ... he fixed things, and now MJ was desperately calling his name as if begging him to do something.
Peter knew how it felt to have parents die. To hold their body and beg to God if things could be different. But nothing would help, nothing would bring them back. Nothing would make it better, so Peter just moved over, hugging MJ and cradling her mother between them. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, nuzzling her desperately. "I am so sorry." If only they'd gone looking sooner. If only Peter had said something, if only MJ had gotten worried faster. If only ... something.
MJ started to shove Peter away, but once she got a hold of him she had to hang onto him, sobbing violently against his shoulder. "She----she... what happened----" But other than that, she really didn't have any words. Her mother was dead. Her mother. She'd feared the worst out of paranoia but she hadn't thought... she'd never really thought it'd be true.
It was hard to speak. There was nothing to say. MJ's mother had died ... naturally, if that was the right word for it. Frozen and starving, rather than attacked or murdured. There was nothing to say, no righteous indignation or anger or revenge that he could offer. So instead of answering her question, Peter held her for a good, long time, rocking MJ gently and stroking her hair. Not telling her to shush; she deserved to cry. After this, she deserved to cry.
After a time, when they found a lull in her crying, Peter nuzzled MJ gently, offering the one bit of solace he could. "We'll bury her ourselves. We'll put her wherever you think she should be."
MJ shook her head wildly, covering her ears with her hands. "No, no----no, no, no----"
"MJ---MJ, look at me." Peter took her face in his hands, looking at her steadily. Sad but .. .supportive, he hoped. "We can't stay here. We can't leave her here. It's hard. Believe me, I know it's hard. We can bring her back to Hank, get everything done right. We'll give her the best ceremony we can, but right now, we need to get out of here, okay? Okay?"
MJ seemed to calm down when Peter wouldn't let her go, and finally she just nodded, numb. "I wanna go home," she mumbled. "I wanna go home... I don't... I want my baby... I... wh... I want my mom..." She bowed her head, burying her face against his chest. It was as close to agreement as he'd get.
"Okay." Peter cradled her again, brushing back her hair. "We'll go home."