Ben Reilly (theotherparker) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-04-12 14:28:00 |
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Current mood: | gloomy |
Who: Peter Parker and Ben Reilly
When: Friday, April 12, 2013, around sun-down
Where: A rooftop a few blows from Potts Tower
What: Peter gives Ben the history lesson on the MJ situation.
Rating: PG-13? There's feels, there's sass. Trigger warning for vague references to miscarriage.
It wasn’t that Potts Tower didn’t have its nooks and crannies where you could find a bubble of quiet privacy, but it was just a little claustrophobic. Or -- well, no. That wasn’t the right way to phrase it. There was space, but it was indoors and surrounded by occupants with their ability to eavesdrop and mentally detect thoughts. It was crowded despite the open air. No, worse: it was prying. And that was why Peter had settled atop the roof of a building some half a dozen blocks away. The sun was slinking down beneath the horizon, which was more an incidental feat of timing than anything. He leaned his head against a raised palm and blearily squinted into the diminishing rays of light. Ben would be swinging by soon enough, and then... The Talk. Enough stalling, enough shuffling his feet around. There was an explanation that Peter knew he owed Ben, and it wasn’t a lack of having the script down that pushed this moment further and further out. It was just a lack of wanting to say it out loud. No one else here knew what happened after the Civil War. No, wait -- wrong phrasing again. No one knew any better about what didn’t happen during the Civil War thanks to some editing. Peter’s thoughts froze at the familiar zing that rushed through his head. He heaved a sigh and braced for Ben to touch down by slumping back against the roof and staring upwards. Ben landed on the roof with a flip that he probably should have avoided, but, well, habit. The teeter was slight and only for a second, but still enough to get some points off on a dismount. His arms stretched out to the side, he shot Peter a look. “One word and I’m not sharing dinner,” he said before arching his back and reaching over his head. He puffed out a satisfied sigh at the familiar stretch of muscles. Pulling out a paper bag of food from his coat, he placed it between him and Peter as he flopped down gingerly beside his ‘twin’. He hadn’t pushed Peter about ‘the explanation’. He knew the signs well enough. The verbal avoidance and jokes and misdirection. He also knew they’d get around to it eventually. Eventually being today and, oh, he wasn’t sure he was ready. Most of his fears had been quieted by Peter’s reassurance that MJ was alive and well, but that still left a lot of wiggle room. One very key spot that thankfully tumblr, youtube, and the internet in general did a great job of distracting him from. “Nice spot,” he said as he pulled the fabric he’d wrapped around his face down away from his mouth. “Very romantic. Sorry that I forgot the candelabra.” He watched the sun dip lower a moment before sighing. “So...” There was an eye squinted behind Peter’s right eyespot at the sloppy dismount, satisfying the need to comment. Sorta. That never really went away, and everyone knew it took some serious Parker focus to not talk as opposed to letting the motormouth zip away. But, for Ben? A brand-new-to-this-world-and-still-adjust “So, didja get caught in a sandstorm, there, Lawrence of Arabia?” Peter asked, tugging the bottom of his mask upwards to rest just above his nose. “Not that I’m knocking the look, but --” But he could easily keep veering away from the subject with the wisecracks, and that wasn’t the point. The band-aid needed tearing off. “Want me to just start this rolling? Fair warning, a lot of it is gonna really suck to hear. I know this because it’s really gonna suck to say.” “I would’ve brought the camel, but he hates stairs and he thinks web-slinging makes his hump look big,” Ben shot back with a quirk of his lips. “You better not be knocking it. It works and it saved you from getting your mug plastered on the front pages more than once.” He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. “Yeah, see, plenty of fair warning on that already with the avoidance and cryptic and, oh, I don’t know, the details of my death being easier to talk about than this and, boy, did you squirrell around that one plenty. Not that I blame you, because, yes, it sucks and I don’t think I’d have done it much better, but that makes this all super ominous.” Which is why he couldn’t stop the stream of words pouring out of his mouth. He wanted to know. Even if it hurt it was better to know. But sorta wanting didn’t mean he really liked the idea. He waved his hand out towards the city. “Steamroll on. Don’t worry about me and my awesome superpowers of master bad news taker and catch up king.” There was a half-hearted laugh about the front-page picture crack, which was the most Peter could muster when it was something painfully close to that which sparked the whole downward spiral of his life. But Ben kept going, and in an uncharacteristic showing, Peter just listened. And he listened until there was a break and a following few seconds of NYC silence (which wasn’t really quiet at all, even up high -- someone was always leaning on their horn somewhere). “So there was this... thing. This --” Awesome start. Peter spread his hands, as if that would somehow convey the whole story, or at least draw out something less vague. “Okay. Okay. Okay, people started calling for a registration act. I mean -- stick with me, this is the exposition background part, and I swear it’ll make sense. But it was a registration act for superheroes. ‘Cause when Rhino gets put through the lobby of Trump Towers, someone has to be held accountable. Someone with powers wears a mask, goes rogue one bleary winter day -- what happens next? It made enough sense for enough people, so it pushed through as an actual thing where we all had to sign up or, well, get beat down and arrested. Sure, ‘beat down’ wasn’t really in the writing, but go figure that no one was going peacefully.” Peter slid an elbow over to nudge Ben in the side. “With me so far? Yeah, no?” Oh boy, this was going to be a long story. Ben wasn’t sure how he had expected Peter to start this talk, but that jumping off point definitely wasn’t even in the running. Turning the knowledge over in his head, he nodded slowly. In the grand scheme of the world, it made sense. The masks protected them and their loved ones (on the good days), but boy did it cause problems too. People flipped back and forth between sides. There were copycats. Changing of the guard. There was self-policing within the big, dysfunctional masked family, but that ended up messy a lot of the time. So, yeah, he could see people wanting to force a bit more accountability and responsibility on all these masked heroes even if he wasn’t sure how he personally felt about it. After a moment of silence, he gave a firm nod and a thumbs up. “Yeah. Superheroes are great except when they’re menaces and you don’t have a home address to send the cleaning bill to. Sounds like something Jameson would spearhead. And, yeah, can’t imagine that’d go down well at all with everyone.” “Awesome,” Peter returned, this time lunging right back into it before the nerve got chased off and he’d have to work up to starting again. “And this stays up here, okay? If you wanna talk touchy topics, this is one at the top of the list. See, some of us agreed with it. Some didn’t. It’s pretty much the only way it could pan out, and things got really ugly. Heroes taking down other heroes ugly. “We ended up with basically two leaders -- Captain America was helping the refugee group that wouldn’t sign up. Iron Man went pro-registration. And me? I...” Peter let his head lull back for a moment, mouth drawn into a flustered crumple. “Started out with Iron Man. One of the guys I was fighting burned our house down, so Tony took me -- us in. Aunt May and MJ and me. He was a guy I could really look up to, y’know? He gave me this new costume with all built-in tech, and when everyone was picking sides, I --” Another abrupt stop, but he pushed onward to finish the thought. “I stood by him. And, haha, guess what happens when you join the team that’s all for registration of heroes?” Ben’s head whipped around to focus on Peter and his eyes went wide as soon as the name left Peter’s lips. His brain stalled, taking in all the information but not really processing it, because... “Pause. Rewind. Which, might regret, because you’re doing grade A job at steamrolling and I’ll answer that semi-rhetorical question in a sec, but-” He closed his eyes, took a deep, slow breath, and let it out in a long woosh. “He took in you, MJ, and... and Aunt May?” “Oh, right.” So much happened in even a week that it was easy to get lost in where Ben left off. Peter glanced downward at the bag that was left on the rooftop, but only with half interest. Not exactly the moment to be thinking about food. “She’s great. The woman who died was an actress. I... just... yeah. One more reason to hate Osborn. Like we really needed any,” he explained, eyes towing back up to Ben. “When in doubt with this whole thing? Osborn was messing with us. Nine times out of ten, I swear.” “An... actress...?” Ben scrubbed his hands over his face as he blew out another breath. Wow. That felt all kinds of horrible. As if the solitary mourning hadn’t been bad enough, now there was even more guilt, gee thanks Osborn, because this was Aunt May they were talking about and even if he’d been away, he should have noticed something like an actress, right? And there was that familiar pang of jealousy he couldn’t help, no matter how much he accepted their crazy life situation, that Peter had gotten Aunt May back. “So, there’s a one out of ten time when it actually isn’t Osborn? Aren’t we lucky?” he drawled and left it at that, because he really didn’t want to poke that key absence that kept, well, not showing up. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he looked up at the darkening sky. “So, you have two power-houses siding on opposite sides of a really touchy subject and you go and side with the guy that happens to be giving you lodging, gadgets, and good mentorship, because, well, yeah, that’d be awkward if you didn’t. Let me guess? It didn’t win us any friends, even with our charming personality. Am I warm there?” “An actress,” Peter confirmed. It was ridiculous on so many levels that a total stranger had slipped into their lives, but with everything going at the time -- it wasn’t like he had even been acting like himself half the time. And then factor in genetic altering? It was an honest oversight. A sad, honest oversight. “Anyway...” Two sneakered feet were kicked up on the edge of the roofing and Peter reached to tug at a loose shoelace. “You’re toasty. Tony comes to me, says he needs me to step up for the cause. What better way to turn the public’s opinion than to have the one guy who would never unmask go on public television and do just that? I mean, I was an Avenger. Things were going well, and... Ben, it just fell apart. I know, I know. What else did I think would happen? But it was dominoes. Every enemy I made started to look at Aunt May and MJ. I had a falling out with Tony, switched over to Cap’s side.” It was a cascade of words now. Get them all out. Purge a seriously ugly truth. Poor Ben was just along for the ride. “And Aunt May was caught in the crossfire because I screwed up. I got so desperate, and no one would help because they were fearing for their lives that they would be caught helping Spider-Man.” “Yeah, that was some massive wishful thinking or a really nice car bribe if you thought that’d turn out well,” Ben said once there was a pause, his head shaking in disbelief. And look how quick that jealousy evaporated. “So, no help. Nowhere to run or hide either, right, because everyone knows you. And a costume change wouldn’t fully work considering we’ve got a - um- distinct style. At least when there’s only one of us running around.” His eyes narrowed slightly and he turned his focus back down to Peter. Things weren’t adding up though... “On the network, it sounded like you still were all secret identity back home. Misdirection or... am I leading you into that desperation thing?” “No misdirection, and I know it sounds crazy.” Fidgeting, Peter dropped the shoelace and scrunched into squatting in a closed-shoulder sort of way. It didn’t matter if this had been a situation that had ultimately straightened out because guilty pangs still managed to sink their holds. “I was just doing what I thought was best for everyone, but Aunt May sank into a coma after she was shot. I couldn’t let her go, and then there were so many others I put in harm’s way just because they knew me. I went to Dr. Strange ‘cause if anyone could magic it better...” And either this was going to get needlessly complicated, or he could just wrap as neat a bow as he could around the mess that was already out in the open air and hope that worked for Ben. “But Mephisto came to me and MJ when Strange couldn’t -- wouldn’t... I don’t know. I... just...” A sharp exhale sliced between almost frantic words, like there was a rush to get to the end of this. “He didn’t help at the time, so we cut a deal with Mephisto. Traded our marriage for Aunt May to be well again, and -- ugh, god. The Doc came around and said he could undo my unmasking, then, but I’d remember everything. I just recall thinking about MJ not remembering every good day we had. Even the bad ones. I couldn’t think about a life without her, so I pulled her along with me so she wouldn’t forget. She didn’t. But we split up,” he finally closed on, swallowing hard. Ben stared at Peter, the New York ‘silence’ dragging on between them. That was too much. Even with the Parker luck, that was way too much for one person to handle on top of everything else and he’d put money on this being the cliff notes version. Children’s abridged cliff notes version. But there it was and there wasn’t anything to do about it now. And here came the guilt and what-ifs right on schedule. If he’d been around, maybe... He saved Pete, but if he’d just been stronger, maybe Peter wouldn’t have needed saving. If he’d just dealt with Osborn when he was first attacked. If he’d just beaten Osborn on his own. If he hadn’t gotten beaten up. If he hadn’t passed out. If he’d just been better... ...everything might have still ended exactly the same way. Or worse. Even as the possibilities swirled through his head, he easily punched holes in each one because of the simple, obvious facts that he’d never be able to stay completely out of Peter and MJ’s life and nothing could keep either him or Peter from web-slinging. The silence stretched on. He should say something profound. Something that’d ease the pain somehow, not that there was any band-aid that could make that better. So, instead, he leaned back, resting his weight on one arm as his other hand jerked up to lightly thwap Peter upside the back of his head. It was a funny thing that even though the worst part of the terrain had been crossed, Peter still felt like he was bracing for something worse. Maybe it was just because he’d never run through the story before, maybe it was just because he had an innate sense that the world was going to kick him in the shins at any given moment -- especially a moment like this one. Instead, it was Ben’s hand smacking him in the head, and that... Okay, that was deserved. Slightly unexpected, but deserved. And possibly even humored enough to take the edge off the conversation. “I told you it sucked.” Peter turned his head enough to frame Ben in his view again. The eyespots were stagnant as ever, but the lower half of his face was still casting a guarded semi-frown. “Consider that me straightening you out for blowing it,” Ben said, a wry smile quirking his lips enough to show he wasn’t really that serious about the matter. “Because I’m pretty sure using your marriage as a bargaining chip counts as blowing it.” A pause as he rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder and sighed. “Even if it saved Aunt May... and protected everyone in your life again. Which it better have because this is already at the top of the suck scale already and have I mentioned before how much I hate our guilt complex sometimes?” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder in an attempt to not only give Peter some sort of comfort but to give himself strength, because the question building in his mind sucked. A vague answer had formed in his mind and he could just leave it at that - should leave it at that - but he needed to know. Even if it’d hurt Peter even more than he already was. “So... Aunt May’s alive and well? MJs alive and well and single. The public back home doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man. Alright... So, what-” He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. His eyes closed. His voice lowered and softened. “Pete, what happened to May? L-little May?” “Feel free to say it as many times as you want, then feel free to feel guilty about that, too,” Peter levelled with Ben, somewhat unfolding from his hunched position. Too soon, though. That reach was a glaring red flag that something was about to break down his defenses again; the build-up only confirmed it. She’d been a fleeting thought in his head ever since Ben turned up, but of everything in his life, Little May was something that stayed locked tight behind the doors of his mind. Mephisto had taken a shot at her, and he’d been so close to strangling the life out of the demon -- stupid and impossible, probably, but rational just wasn’t something that tied into the daughter that... “Didn’t make it.” It was a hollow reply that Peter tried to keep from sounding so casual -- like it was just a throwaway point in the past -- while trying his best to not linger on it. “When I got to the hospital... she was already gone.” His mouth twitched, and he made a move to turn away from Ben, just enough to get some space. Ben knew. Deep down he knew because, coming from 24/7 baby talk and planning, beepers and teasing the old married man, and too many for-the-love-of-God-Peter-quit-running-i Ben pressed his forehead against his knees, his fists clenched at his sides. “You should have gone when I told you to,” he breathed out, his voice wrecked. “You should have listened to me for once. I- I had it... I had it under control...” He knew it wasn’t fair, that it wouldn’t have changed anything, but it was still only a few days past to him and there had to have been something someone could have done to fix it. Anything. Even if the moment was long gone and Peter had laid out the future for him just a few moments ago. “I really thought everything was going to work out for you two...” It was a knee-jerk reflex to want to tear off the spot and take a dive off the building. There wasn’t even the excuse of needing to go out for fresh air because there was a wealth of it around when you were on top of a skyscraper. Bottom line was that Peter didn’t know what to tell Ben in turn. One way was unwarranted aggression, the other was slapping a patch over things and ducking down into another subject before an argument could be made. Instead, Peter just threw up his shoulders into a shrug and shook his head. “What do you want me to say, Ben?” he asked, letting his head droop and his voice sink down into a weary register. “I get out of bed every morning and function. Seriously, I’ve had time. MJ had time, too. This is new for you, but I’ve -- it’s been years. I’m just sorry things ever got so screwed up in the first place.” “Yeah, I know, Pete, I know. I get it. I do. I’m trying to just-” Ben’s fists unclenched, his fingers splayed out wide. “-poof, let it go, because it’s the past, even if it’s the future too, but it’s behind us here either way. Nothing and no one can ever keep us down, no matter how much they beat us. I know. It’s just still my right this very moment now, even with a few days of memories from here, so, sorry. Again. I really don’t mean to make this harder on you.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, taking the moment to reel his emotions back in. There’d be time later, when he was alone in his room, to sort through them and put them in their proper boxes for storage. Uncurling, he turned back towards Peter and offered him a small smile that was a mix of understanding and hope. “Well, you could say, ‘Gee, Ben, I know this great, popular place all the gangsters talk ‘bout that I’ve been itching to check out, but I never had the right date ‘til now.’ That’d be a great start.” “This must be how everyone on Doctor Who feels,” Peter murmured into the arm he’d slung over a raised knee. There was a brief pause. “Remind me to explain Doctor Who,” was added after that beat. But Peter was already shuffling upwards to standing as Ben pressed on. There was out from talking or even just thinking about the last ten minutes, and he was not letting it slip away. Sure, peace had been made with everything that happened, but it was easier to keep that peace when he wasn’t actively moping on it. “So, how’s the invalid doing? It’s not gonna be much of a play date if you get woozy on me and start doing impressions of a penguin in flight. How many fingers am I holding up? Who was the 16th president? Spider sense working okay? Got your permission slip signed?” “What about it?” Ben asked as he pushed himself feet. He rolled his eyes as he counted off the answers to the quickfire questions on his fingers, even if they didn’t warrant answering. “Them’s fighting words, but we’re past that part of the sibling rivalry, I feel. You get 100% ownership of the penguin in flight impression. I’ve got two fingers for you right here.” He flipped his hands in a quick demonstration. It’d been a long few days and, well, it was Pete. They’d done much worse to each other. “Of which country? Fallen off any ceilings lately? And, oops, I left it in my other pants.” He raised an eyebrow as he hooked his finger around the fabric of his ‘mask’ to start pulling it up. “Any more hoops? Because I could do with a good stretch.” Peter mirrored the movement and tugged his own mask back down the entire way. He rolled his shoulders to loosen up, and while he was doing a quick check of his webshooters, he sighed at his genetic match. “Is there something about you and Kaine that you picked up a potty-mouth thing in your developmental stages? Back-sass is one thing, but think of the kids.” He stepped up to the edge of the roof, teetering on his heels as he turned to face Ben. Beneath the mask was a modest grin, as always tended to shape up before taking a wild plummet and casting that first webline out. “Just do me a favor and keep up, huh?” was his final quip, a split second before Peter backflipped off the ledge and into a straight descent. “Potty-fingers. Life on the road, man, it does things to you.” Ben’s shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “Plus there’s a quota to fill or they take away your motorcycle license.” He couldn’t help the wide grin forming under his mask as he loosened up his arms and his weight shifted to his toes. No matter how much things changed, this was always the same. It was coming home. “Haven’t lost you yet and not planning to,” he said to the open air before he took a running leap and launched himself off the edge of the roof. |