Spideychelle one-shots

After: Part 4

Rising out of the pavement like some vengeful ancient being was a sleek black triangular ship, prow pointed to the sky. Judging by the crater it was lodged in and the general condition of both the ship and everything around it, MJ guessed that it had crashed there.

How they had not heard or felt the impact, MJ didn't know, but she had been paying so much attention to Peter that everything else had sort of faded away. 

There was smoke pouring out of the downed craft, obscuring the scene and making MJ cough into the thin cotton fabric of her hoodie, which she'd pulled over her mouth and nose. 

Peter had his cellphone out; for a moment MJ thought he was filming the scene. But then she could see him typing in a number, holding the phone to his ear. 

There was a terrible screech, the sound of metal rending from itself, and MJ swung her attention back to the ship. 

Something was moving - no, the ship was moving, creaking - the air shimmered, and there was one terrible moment of silence, of stillness, when MJ knew something was very wrong.

And then it exploded. 

They were far enough away that the initial blast, the fire and shrapnel, didn't hit them. But the shockwave made up for it when it did. Peter and MJ were thrown backwards onto the pavement, bits of gravel digging into MJ's arms. 

She could hear yelling, sirens starting in the distance. Took them long enough, she thought bitterly. Spiderman - and all superheroes, for that matter - had a bit of a tense relationship with the law sometimes. It could be hard, working with - or around - the police. They didn't always take the hero's contributions well.

But MJ knew they did the best they could. 

She pulled herself up off the pavement, accepting Peter's hand. Her ears were ringing and her entire body felt sore, and Peter didn't look much better. There was blood dripping from his nose and a small cut over one eye, and he looked just as dazed as she did. 

"What is that thing?" she asked, her voice muffled in her ears. She shook her head a bit, waiting for her hearing to come back.

"I have no clue," Peter said grimly. He coughed, trying to make out the crash site through the smoke and debris that hung in the air from the explosion. 

"Who did you call?" MJ asked, remembering him speaking into his phone.

"Oh," he said, looking a little embarrassed. "May. She's the first person I thought of, I guess..."

"Good idea," MJ said. "She probably has the best idea of what this could be, considering she's been living here this whole time. And you know, her and Happy." 

Peter winced. "Yeah," he said. "I wish I had thought of that... Mostly I think I was just scared. It's been a long time, you know. Since I've had to do any of this." 

"Yeah," MJ said, peering through the smoke. "Me too." 

It was hard not to get bogged down in memories in the moment, in the silence that the aftermath of the explosion had created. 

She squinted. The dust was finally settling, but MJ thought her eyes must be deceiving her. Where the ship had been, where the pavement had crumbled and bowed, was nothing. 

"Is that...?" Peter trailed off, looking just as dumbfounded as MJ.

"That isn't possible," she said, shaking her head. "It was just there! I don't understand." 

The ground looked perfectly untouched. If not for the dust still lingering in the air and the ringing in MJ's ears, she almost could've believed it had never happened.