mary jane "mj" watson (justhitjackpot) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-08-23 21:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, mary jane "mj" watson (616), peter parker / spider-man (616) |
Who: Peter & MJ Parker 616
When: Late last night, early this morning
Where: Parker's
What: Peter and MJ finally have a break down about May's disappearance. Long time coming.
Rating: PG
He’d only been this way a few times, but it was getting to a point of familiarity: down the brick apartment complex, vault off the fire escape, catch traction on the rear side of the building which housed Parker’s, and then quietly crawl upwards onto the landing that made up the outside patio of the loft above the club itself. Been well into night, now, no one was looking, but that didn’t mean Peter spared any less care. He crept silently towards the rooftop door, shuffled around his bag for the key, and let himself in after the lock had been deal with. The place was mostly empty. It was only a matter of hours since the decision had been announced that this would be his and MJ’s home soon as they packed up and moved in, but there was a more gut-feeling variety of empty. No lights were on. No lingering warmth of human presence. In a way, that was exactly what they needed to start moving on from May. Sitting around and waiting for her to come back would have just entrapped them both in a cageless prison. Move on. Try to, at least. This was a blank page, here. But there wasn’t anyone currently nestled on the sofa or at the kitchen table pouring over business accounts or receipts. Peter pressed onward, tugging off his mask as he took to the stairs. The light filtering in from under the door which separated the loft from the club was proof enough that, the moment he turned that corner, he’d find MJ. Usually the smile on his face would be wider when she came into view, but tonight it was impossible to muster more than a small, sad attempt. “Hey,” he called across to her, not that she was startled by him sneaking up. “Thought I’d find you here.” Ordinarily, Mary Jane could be spotted wandering around, talking to employees or pouring over papers in the office. Not tonight, though. Ever since Mayday disappeared, all MJ could think about was the night she gave birth to their little girl, desperately waiting for Peter to show up. She'd been so alone and scared, and even more alone when the doctor told her that May hadn't made it. This week was a sucker punch that took her right back to the months following May's death. A room full of stuff she'd never use, always walking by the room, lifting her hand to knock and realizing all over again that it was empty. MJ discovered one thing about the Tesseract: it was evil. She suspected that it had a life of its own and got its kicks from giving people the one thing they'd wanted more than anything else, letting you get used to it, and then taking it away. There were still so many things that MJ wanted to do with May, and while she was glad that somewhere in another universe, May had parents who loved her, here in this world, MJ could only mourn the loss of her. Again. She pushed the broom around the floor aimlessly. Hicks had done a fine enough job with it, but sometimes, MJ just liked to be up and moving. She could pretend that everything was all right when she was in motion, even if it was lingering and slow. At Peter's voice, MJ dragged herself around to face him. "I'm hard to miss, tiger." Her voice was quiet. Even her hair seemed limp and the smile on her face didn't quite reach her eyes. His feet were moving him towards her, ever an unconscious thing when it came to MJ. If there was distance, it needed to be thrown out. Sometimes it was just to clamp his arms around her and hold on tight while she laughed at the way his nose nuzzling her neck tickled, but that was the furthest thing from either of them tonight. He closed the gap and paused in front of her. A half-hearted gesture was given at what he was wearing from the neck down. “Might have you beat in the wardrobe department, but…” The jokes weren’t there. He didn’t feel them. They didn’t feel right. He reached for her hand on the broom, to make her stop for a second. “It’s late, MJ. I think the floor’s pretty spotless, too,” he gently finished. Worried was the tip of the iceberg. He knew how much this hurt MJ, and there wasn’t any salve or balm in the world that could ease the pain. As soon as his gloved fingers reached hers, MJ stilled her movements. There were few people in the world who could get MJ Watson-Parker to turn into an emotional puddle, but Peter was at the top of that list. She looked up into his brown eyes. They were shining with their own hurt and of course, worry. There was always worry. She reached her hand out to cup the side of his face. As long as she had Peter with her, she could face anything. Maybe not happily, but she could get through it. Without him… She didn't even want to think about that. "I feel like I'm letting them down, Peter. We went into this as one big family, and now I can't even stand to look at the house at all." She wasn't sure they understood. It wasn't about them. MJ loved them as much as she loved Peter; she just needed to not wallow in a house that was too big and too empty. "I just… can't." The side of Peter’s mouth tugged inward, as he took a second to make sure he had his own emotions clamped in place. “They’ll be okay,” he assured, maybe directing that at himself as much as his wife. “We’ll… we’ll do the family dinner thing. It’s just gonna be a scheduled thing again, that’s all.” He leaned into her hand. Weird how even something so small as the warmth against his cheek lent enough comfort to keep himself together. He just hoped she could find that in return -- that tiny amount of solace against what was basically cruelty. Yes, they had gotten just about a year with the daughter they had never gotten to see grow up, but the fleetingness of it stung. It was hard to see around the world proclaiming in bold font: SHE WAS NEVER YOURS, ANYWAY. He knew that wasn’t wholly true, but the argument was hard to brace against their current reality. “C’mon,” Peter told her. He slipped his hand to the broom itself, giving a small tug in lieu of a request that she let it go. “Let’s put this away. We’re both breaking curfew, young lady.” MJ was too tired to put up a fight. She always felt tired these days. When she let go of the broom, it clattered to the floor. She could pick it up tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to put her arms around Peter and not let go. He was her tether right now, and while she knew it was unfair to put that burden on him, she figured that if nothing else, they were tethered to one another and would sink or float together. Her arms slipped over his shoulders as she pulled him toward her. MJ rested her head against the side of his face. "Peter… I don't want the Tesseract to bring her back." She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. "I'm a terrible person, but I just can't go through it again. No matter how much time we get with her." He could’ve webbed the broom into a more gradual descent, but that was low on the priority totem pole. MJ was reaching for him, and she only ever had to make the smallest indication that she needed him for him to reach right back. His arms enclosed her, forming the best protective barrier he could offer even if there wasn’t a single threat looming within the brightly-lit club. “No, it’s…” He wasn’t trying to hide the falter of his expression -- god knows she probably could feel it -- but it was hard to stop that pre-tears crumple. Concentrating on his breathing helped. “You know I get it. Tryin’ to see the good in getting another chance, but someone goes and pulls her away. If it wasn’t her, it could’ve been…” One of them. The merciful fate would have been both, but luck had never held out. Why would it now? “Don’t you leave me, okay?” Peter knew no one could promise that, but they’d fought against too much to get torn apart again. No stupid glowing cube was going to decide anything for them. MJ pulled him closer, grabbing a fistful of costume and used all of her strength. Sure, it was nothing compared to what Peter could give (or take for that matter), but she needed him now more than ever. And she wanted him to know that she was here. She was tangible. They were here together, and even without May, they had each other. She'd been trying to hold it in, but the quiver of Peter's voice gave way to rapidly blinking and hot tears dripping down her cheeks. MJ turned her face into his neck and mumbled, "You can't leave me either. I need you, Peter. I don't know what I'd do without you too." Trying to check his own tears was pointless. Everyone knew Spider-Man had an emotional streak a mile wide that liked to show through when the jokes stopped, and for those who only knew Peter Parker and his evasiveness… you only really needed to catch him at that moment when his defenses were down to see that he shared that trait. Here, with MJ, the armor fell clear off. Having put off this moment for days seemed like it should come with some relief to finally have surfaced, but there wasn’t any relief in accepting loss. As much as holding MJ tight reassured that she was as solid as the floor beneath his feet, that didn’t bring May back for good. And, really, that was something that they had come to terms with years ago. They’d figure out how to do it again. Peter swallowed, clearing his throat. “Let’s head upstairs. Don’t think the club needs anything more from you tonight.” Even if May did come back, she wouldn't know them. She'd remember her parents from another world. She wouldn't have been bridesmaid or met Ben and Kaine. Or Reilly Tyne and Janine. All those memories would be gone, whisked away at the whim of that stupid box. MJ was used to not being in control, but there was something utterly hopeless about being a refugee. In some ways, it was worse than losing her so young. "Yeah," she finally whispered, pulling herself out of the embrace and attempting a weak smile. Peter was the only person in the world she didn't feel as if she had to put up some kind of front. MJ leaned in and kissed his cheek. Holding all of this in -- for the others -- had just made sleep impossible. Trying to find a moment where she could just let go without being strong for them was unmanageable. She tried to sound as normal as she could. "Come on, Peter. You need out of those clothes. Too many windows upstairs." He gave her a quiet nod. Last thing they needed was to explain why a guy in a Spider-Man suit was wandering around the club or loft. There were worries enough without that. Peter reached for her hand, clasping hers within his; he wasn’t going to move out of the club without Mary Jane coming with. “Got PJs upstairs and the bed’s still made. We’ll stay here tonight.” He tugged at her hand, to start them both moving. It would be too easy to stay here all night, avoiding sleep. “Tomorrow’ll be a lot less awful if we get a little shuteye.” |