Spideychelle one-shots

After: Part 5

There was a ringing in MJ's ears, the blackness of her vision intertwined with random sparks of light. 

She groaned, coughed, dust all around her, and tried to open her eyes, regretting it immensely when it caused her head to spin and her stomach to revolt. 

Trying again, slower this time, she managed to pry her eyelids open and blink away some of the dust. She was surrounded by darkness, shadowy shapes letting her know that the space she was in was very small indeed. 

Too small to sit up in. She wondered much air she had left, whether it's slowly running out or not. She took stock of her body, wiggling her shoulders, then moving down her arms and finally, her fingers. Luckily, everything seemed to be working there; she couldn't see enough to tell, but she thought she probably had some nasty scratches that would be a complete and utter nuisance later. 

Her whole body ached, and now that the shock of waking up had worn off a bit, she could feel a deep, sharp throb in her legs, considerably worse in her left, that only increased with each breath. She tried to comfort herself by reminding herself that it would be worse if they were numb. She could feel them, and she could wiggle the toes on her right foot. Her left foot hurt too much to try. 

"Hello?" she tried, her voice weak and choked with dust. She cleared her throat and tried again. 

"Help!" Shouting seems to unlock some barrier inside her, and suddenly she's crying, panicking, unable to move, unable to save herself.

"Help!" she screamed, but no one responded. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, until her head was spinning and she couldn't keep her eyes open and the darkness dragged her back down again. 

Peter 

Watching the pavement swallow MJ had to be the worst moment of his life. He wasn't fast enough to save her, to do anything but to stand there and be useless and watch her fall. 

And when the dust settled, when the ground was smooth and there was no sign of her, when Peter fell to his knees and scrabbled at the pavement, May was there, to hold him up, to lead him to the car and drive them away just as the police cars were pulling up. 

She drove him to their apartment, still strange in the way he's changed and it hasn't, and bandaged his ruined hands, called the helpline the police set up, tells them the truth, or a version of it at least.

That they were there, that they saw it - whatever it was. That the ground swallowed MJ. That they hope she's still alive.

Peter ran into the bathroom and threw up at that, all of the memories and trauma he's spent years working through rushing back. MJ dead. MJ gone. MJ swallowed up by the ground, face bruised and body broken.

All of the terrible things he'd imagined, now possibly reality. 

He paused only long enough to drink some water and get the nano suit on - the one thing he'd kept from his time as Spiderman, loads better than the one aunt May had saved for him, and something he'd made several upgrades to over the years - before he was back out on the street. He was glad he thought to pack the suit in his luggage, glad that his paranoia has led to him having it on hand.

It was strange to get used to the feeling of the suit flexing around him, fitting him perfectly, information filling his vision. 

It was strange to not hear Karen's voice - but he'd disconnected her, during one of the dark days, because she reminded him too much of Mr. Stark. 

He regretted that decision now - she would've been a lot of help, and he didn't have time to reboot her. 

The city was in turmoil, the streets jammed with cars, all traffic ground to a halt. There were people leaning out of doorways and pressing their faces against windows, desperate to see what was going on, but too scared to go outside. Acting smart, for once. 

The place where he'd last seen MJ was empty, pavement smooth and uncracked. There was no sign of what had happened there. 

He knelt on the cement, heart pounding in his chest, and laid a hand against the ground. 

Where are you, MJ? 

How am I supposed to save you if there's no one to fight? 

He couldn't fail. Not now. He had to save her, had to prove that being Spiderman was worth something. If he couldn't save her, what was the point? 

He tried to remind himself that they had broken up, that she wasn't interested in him like that, but it didn't seem to matter. He loved her just as much as he always had. 

An alert let him know that a call was being patched from his cell phone to his suit. 

"Yeah?" he said, trying not to let his voice break. 

"Pete, it's me." May's voice was dulled by the connection, but Peter could hear the fear in it. 

"What's happened," he said. "What is it?" 

"You need to come home," she said. "Now." 

"May, what happened." Peter swung up to the top of an apartment building. 

"There's been a ransom note. For MJ."

Peter froze. "What?"

"It's addressed to you, Pete. I'm sorry." 

It was his fault. 

Of course.  It was always his fault. He got the people closest to him hurt, that's what always happened. And he always swore that he would stop it, that he'd never let it happen again.

And he always, always, failed. 

"What does it say?" His voice was calm. Frozen.

"Peter - "

"What. Does. It. Say."

"Spiderman for the girl. Midnight tomorrow, or she won't be the only one who bleeds."

"Shit." Peter slumped back, a hand over his face. 

"Peter - "

"What?"

"It was written on the side of a building. In blood." 

She won't be the only one who bleeds. 

No. 

Hey, sorry that this is short, and sorry that it's been so long. I've been working through some awful writer's block, but that's over now, hopefully. 

Thank you so much for 20k reads, you guys are the best. There should be another part up soon. 

-Viwrit3r