Chapter Twenty-One - Heartbreak
AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter! Just to clear some things up, I know Peter would probably have been able to get out the cage and fight his way out, and Tony wouldn't have done bad either, but the reason I didn't have them do anything like that is because they respect mutants and the difference of mutant business and human business. They didn't want to attack mutants because of how humans have been assholes to mutants for decades, and they didn't want to upset Mikaela in any way. This is probably stuff I should have written in to explain it, so I apologise for that! I hope you understand my reasons and you haven't been taken out of the story or anything because of this. Sorry as well for taking so long to update - I had a short lapse in faith after someone left a review detailing why they pretty aggressively dislike Mikaela. I understand completely that some people just don't like some characters and that's totally fine, but this person also used unnecessary insults like "butthead" and "awful twerp" (lmao) more than constructive criticism - PLUS they said Mikaela would be a part of Hydra before she would make friends with an Avenger and I have to disagree massively with that at least. Mikaela is nowhere near joining Hydra and I think I'll take offense to that part of the review!
In other news, I've been wondering, how do you guys visualize Mikaela? I've purposefully not described her in too much detail so that it's left open to your imagination, so I'm curious to know what you've come up with? Personally, I adore Zendaya and if her MJ were in my version of the MCU I would be shipping her and Peter like mad, so my solution is to kind of put her in Mikaela's spot..
"I don't know what way you're feeling, but it looks to me like your heart just isn't in it," Wade comments thoughtfully.
Mikaela grits her teeth. The knuckles on her right hand sting where they're split and bleeding. The fingers on her left hand are clenching a woman's scarf, holding her upright. Mikaela shifts her weight, eyes wandering over the woman's bloody, swollen face. After a moment, she loosens her fingers and lets the woman drop to the ground at her feet.
Mikaela sighs and cracks her neck. "I thought this would help."
"Me too," Wade says, coming to stand next to her. He sighs regretfully, then lifts his gun and shoots the woman between the eyes.
Without a word, they both turn and exit the building, heading out towards the van they arrived in.
When Mikaela pulls herself into the seat and straps herself in, she drops her head back against the rest and closes her eyes, holding back another sigh - it's all she's been doing recently.
Wade slams the driver door closed and turns the engine on, pulling out into the road. He clicks the radio on after a moment and keeps it at a reasonable level, which is unlike him.
"Listen, Cupcake," he begins.
"No, it's okay," she interrupts, opening her eyes as she waves a dismissive hand. "You don't need to have one of your 'out of character' moments."
"You sure? She's all primed and ready," he persists, referring to the mysterious "author" he mentions from time to time.
Mikaela rolls her head to the side to look out the window. "I've talked about it enough. I understand what's going through his head. I know I can't do anything to change it. I know I have to give him time and space."
"Maybe a night on the town would distract you," he suggests.
"And by that, you mean be served by your creepy friend and sit in that dirty place all night?"
"Yeah," he chirps.
Mikaela lets a sigh slip by accident. "Sure, whatever."
xxxxxxx
Mikaela's bum hurts.
She frowns. Then she realises her eyes are closed.
Opening them, she sees she is sitting against a wall on one of the streets of New York. Even sitting down she feels massively unsteady, especially with the buildings around her pulsing and swaying.
"Stupid," she slurs, attempting to push herself to her feet.
She has to press the majority of her body against the wall and shoogle it up the rough brick, a hand stretched above her, her fingertips clutching at the top of a brick. Eventually, she has no more limbs to stretch out, so she knows she's at her full height.
She first moves her hip away from the wall, then her shoulder, but she keeps her hand pressed against the brick for support. She sways a little, but rolls with it and manages to slow herself down to a standstill again.
Looking down, she stretches a foot out in front of her and slaps it down against the pavement. She tests her footing, then pushes against the brick a little, and leans her weight on the forward foot. Almost too late, she remembers her other foot and swings it forward too, catching herself before she stumbles.
Smirking to herself, she repeats the process, retaining her hand on the wall next to her for support. Even though she doesn't have much mental space left, due to the immense concentration taken by her movements, she finds her thoughts wandering to the one thing Wade had been trying to distract her from.
Briefly, she glances around for signs of Wade, but the motion makes her vision swim, so she quickly forgets it.
"Peter Parker," she mutters, grumpy.
She hasn't seen him since the whole incident, not for lack of trying on her part. He refuses to see her. Claims he needs time.
"Time," she scoffs.
He thinks she's somehow not the same person as she was before. He thinks she's a stranger. As if they haven't bonded over the past however-long they've known each other. He thinks she's different.
But she isn't different. She's Mikaela, for fuck sake!
"I am Mikaela!" she snaps, reassuring herself.
She's killed before. It's not her fault he didn't realise. Plus, it's not as if she killed again for no reason.
She pouts as she walks, scowling.
She killed because he was in danger - didn't he see that? She killed because he was at risk, because his life was at risk, because his aunt was at risk.
She killed because she cares about him. So much it scares her. And the thought of not having him in her life anymore-
"Fuck that," she mutters, blowing air through her lips to make a "pfff" sound.
Suddenly, the brick under Mikaela's hand disappears.
She freezes, throwing her hands out to her sides and crouching slightly, eyes wide and panicked.
"Where'd it go?" she hisses, glancing around at the ground.
She looks at her hand, inspecting it, wondering if she did something to the wall.
Slowly, she straightens, and then she looks up.
"Oh," she snorts.
She's at an intersection.
With exaggerated movements, she looks left and right before she starts to cross the road. She holds her arms out to her sides still, straight as arrows, to keep her balanced as she moves along the white line.
When she makes it to the other side, she smirks to herself. "Back at it again," she slurs, finger-gunning the wall.
She wants to see Peter.
She scowls, remembering she can't. "Stupid," she mutters.
She walks to the wall and presses her hand against it again, somewhere in her mind doubting she'll manage to keep walking on her own.
"Oh, I'm Peter," she sneers, "I'm really nice and sweet and funny and I don't like it when people are deaded in front of me."
She snorts, chuckling at herself and her totally accurate impersonation.
He's just stupid. And cute.
He's too innocent for this life.
Mikaela stops and stands up straight. "I will never let him kill anyone," she announces, decided.
Now that her head is lifted again, she sees the lights of Avengers Tower in the distance. Or is it on the next block? She isn't sure.
With renewed determination, she stares down at her feet and tiptoes along the pavement, convinced it'll make her move faster.
She wants to see Tony now. Peter is no use to her like this. With Tony, she can be open and vulnerable-
Mikaela's face scrunches at the thought - she's done enough vulnerability to last a lifetime. She just wants to see her friend-more-like-father-figure and have a nice time. Maybe she can see Pepper too.
When she next lifts her head, Mikaela finds herself mere steps away from the glass doors of the Tower. She feels so triumphant it boosts her confidence through the roof, and she goes as far as taking her hand off the wall next to her. With her hands clenched into determined fists, she lifts her chin and purposefully marches towards the door.
Pain erupts on her face and her hands fly up to clutch at it, a yelp escaping her mouth. She stumbles, losing her balance, and plonks down on her arse heavily.
One hand goes to rub her backside while the other cradles her nose. She frowns in confusion, completely at a loss as to what just happened. Then she looks up at the glass, and her vision stops swimming long enough to make out a Mikaela's-face-shaped smudge on the glass.
As realisation dawns on her, a cackle bursts forth from her throat, and she slaps her thigh.
The fit of amusement passes not long after, and she manages to push herself back onto her feet - though she does have to use her hands and feet for a few steps before that like a drunken dog.
She stops herself before she hits the glass this time, and realises the doors are locked. Mikaela slaps a hand against one and leans on it heavily.
"Open sesame!" she hiccups.
The door slides away from underneath her, and she stumbles into the building.
She frowns at the empty space, struggling to see. Then, across the room, there is a bing, and the elevator doors slide open, sending a bright light sprawling across the floor.
Tony emerges, wearing pyjamas and slippers. "How much have you drank this time?" he asks, not amused or disappointed or even curious. It's just a question.
Mikaela smiles lopsidedly. "I don't think I'm the one who should be getting asked that," she slurs, gesturing at his clothes. "What are you wearing? And why?"
He stops and looks down at himself, a defensive expression overcoming his face. "They're clothes people wear before they go to sleep. I'm wearing them because I'll be going to sleep soon."
Mikaela makes a face at him, convinced he's playing a trick on her. "It's not time to sleep," she mutters, waving a dismissive hand. She stumbles a step forward, and crouches slightly to ground herself more.
Tony holds back amusement as he crosses his arms. "Kid," he sighs. "It is 3:20 am. And you look like you're about to drop a shit in my lobby."
Mikaela scowls, bewildered. Then she looks around, and realises just how dark it is.
"Oh," she says. "I was wondering why I didn't get run over."
That's when Tony makes a disappointed face. His slippers make soft slapping sounds as he makes his way closer to her. Then he takes a hold of her upper arm, pulling her up straight again, and leads her towards the elevator.
"Have you ever noticed how much the Earth spins?" Mikaela asks curiously.
"Mhmm, yeah," he nods.
Mikaela grins and pokes his chest. "Nerd."
He steps into the elevator first, his arm extending behind him as she hesitates. Then she pushes her hands against the edges of the retracted doors, making sure they won't close on her, and takes a huge step over the edge of the elevator.
He takes both her arms, rolling his eyes at her, and leans her against the back corner of the metal box. As soon as he releases his hold, Mikaela lets herself slide down to her hunkers.
Suddenly she gasps. "Friday!" she shouts.
"Yes, Mikaela?" the Irish voice asks.
Mikaela grins. "Hello."
"Hello, Mikaela."
She looks to Tony with the same stupid smile, and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "You're the dog's bollocks," she announces.
His hand slowly moves away from his nose and he looks down at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"
She frowns. "It's a compliment."
"How?"
Mikaela shrugs. "I don't know," she mumbles.
"If you start talking nonsense-"
"Stop suffocating my culture!" she huffs, pouting.
He stares at her, then shrugs and picks her back up again. "Fair enough."
When she looks around, she realises the doors are open again. Tony drags her out before she can do her careful exit.
When Mikaela sees Pepper, she breaks out into a huge grin. "Pepper!"
Pepper smiles fondly. "Hey, sweetie."
Mikaela breaks free of Tony and half-skips-half-stumbles her way over to the redhead. She plonks herself down next to the woman, kicks off her shoes, and curls her legs up underneath her.
"What do you wanna talk about?" Mikaela asks, leaning her chin in her hand, her elbow balancing on her knee.
Pepper gives Tony a look. "Man, you have had a lot to drink tonight, haven't you?" the woman asks Mikaela.
Mikaela nods proudly. "Yup. I think so."
"It's not like you to get this bad," Tony comments, sitting opposite them.
Mikaela's so fuzzy she doesn't even know what room they're in. She stands up and stumbles around, trying to solve the puzzle.
"If you want to forget, you drink," she mutters.
"So, you were distracting yourself," Pepper says.
"Well, beating up the bad lady didn't help, so we had to try something else."
It's quiet for a moment, then Tony asks, "So nothing from Pete yet?"
Mikaela scowls and kicks at the floor. "Stupid," she grumbles.
"You know, Mikaela-"
"I can't be arsed talking about it anymore," Mikaela groans. She turns to face them again. She is angry and frustrated, and for some reason it makes her bottom lip quiver. "I just miss him."
Pepper's face contorts in empathy. "Come here," she says gently, opening her arms.
Mikaela trudges back towards her and collapses into the cushions again, leaning into Pepper's embrace. The woman snakes one arm around Mikaela's shoulders and holds onto her upper arm, while the other pets her hair.
Mikaela sniffs, exhausted and drained. Her face feels warm and wet and her breathing is unsteady, and she realises she is really crying - not just letting a few tears slip; her face is contorted, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers clutching at Pepper. The woman whispers words of comfort as she runs her hand over Mikaela's hair, and then a third, larger hand appears on Mikaela's back, rubbing in circles.
"If it was anyone else who hurt you, I'd kill them," Tony's voice says above her. "But Peter…"
Mikaela calms herself enough to say, "I know. I couldn't hurt him either."
xxxxxxxxx
Peter's legs dangle off the edge of the roof, one of his heels knocking against the wall. He holds his mask in his hands, staring down at the white eyes. He feels profoundly lonely and miserable, and he isn't sure what to do about it.
With a sniff, he lifts his gaze to the setting sun. It's been an uneventful night for him, with only a petty bike theft to keep him distracted. For once, he wishes there were more criminals running around the place.
Peter winces and groans, falling back onto the roof. He doesn't really wish that. That would be terrible.
He just wants something else to occupy his mind other than the utter confusion surrounding his thoughts of Mikaela.
While he still isn't sure what he thinks of her being fine with killing people, and what that means about who she is, he does know for sure that, annoyingly, he misses her. But all that that knowledge is doing is confusing matters even further.
Peter gets to his feet again and pulls his mask over his head, sighing with relief as his senses are focused once more. Looking in the direction of home, he sprints across the rooftop and throws himself off the edge of the building, letting himself fall through the air for a moment before he throws his hand out and shoots out a web.
He grips the material hard as it connects with another building, swinging his legs forward for extra momentum. He soars through the air, mere metres above the traffic on the road, and reaches the top of his swing. He lets go of the web and sends his other hand into the air to shoot another.
Swing by swing, he makes his way towards his home. An alley nearby holds his backpack and civilian clothes, which he quickly pulls on before Aunt May sees him. The look of pride mingled with utter fear on her face whenever she catches sight of him as Spider-Man is too much for him.
When he walks in the door, she sends him a smile from the couch and gestures to the kitchen. "There's a plate in the oven for you," she says.
Peter quirks an eyebrow. "You cooked?"
May gives him an offended look. "Hey, I put my heart and soul into this meal, thank you very much."
Peter opens the oven door to find a plate of pizza awaiting him. He sends May an amused grin and she gives him a wink.
When he plonks down next to her and she gets back into her programme, his mind wanders. It's impossible to avoid thinking about Mikaela, but he can't help feeling frustrated. He can barely concentrate on school at the moment, and Ned keeps having to repeat whatever he was saying before Peter realised he hadn't heard a single word of it.
"Pete?" May asks.
Peter blinks and realises he's been sitting with a slice of pizza in front of his face for too long to not be suspicious.
"Oh," he smiles sheepishly.
"Okay," May says purposefully. She takes the slice from his hand, drops it on the plate, and puts the plate on the floor.
"Hey," he protests.
"What's going on?" she demands, crossing her arms and pinning him to the spot with her concerned gaze. "Your head has been miles away ever since…" she trails off, scowling.
Peter sighs, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, May."
"I'm not looking for an apology, Peter," she says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
He falls back against the couch and runs his hand over his face. "I just.." he tries. "I don't know. It's hard to explain."
"Just take your time," May shrugs.
Peter winces. He doesn't know if telling May will be a good idea. But he desperately needs someone to talk about it with, and Ned doesn't really grasp the severity of the situation.
"Okay, so. When Mr Stark and I were being held in those cages, Mikaela's dad was there and he was trying to recruit her to his criminal life," Peter begins.
May leans an elbow on the top of the couch and holds the side of her head in her hand, listening intently. He can see her discomfort, mostly about the context, but also somewhat about Mikaela's family.
"He brought these guys with him, like thirty guys, and they were fighting everyone as well," Peter continues. He scratches at the nape of his neck uncomfortably. "Mikaela was fighting off some of them when one of the guys came over to our cages."
May frowns, having not heard this part.
"Basically he threatened to expose me to the media and police," Peter sighs, reluctant to continue. He rubs at his forehead and frowns, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
"Peter?" May asks gently.
He looks up at her again and shrugs. "Mikaela shot him. I tried to stop her from," he hesitates, a bad taste in his mouth, "From killing him. I tried, May."
"It's okay," she murmurs, frowning as she rubs his shoulder.
Peter swallows, a lump forming in his throat. "She killed him. Mikaela killed someone." He takes a few shaky breaths. "I don't think it was the first time," he whispers.
May sits silently, her eyes dropping to somewhere behind Peter. Her eyebrows are furrowed gently, her jaw moving as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Peter knows she's processing the information, and part of him sincerely hopes she doesn't hate Mikaela or think badly of her.
"Okay," she says finally in a quiet tone. "Mikaela knew this guy wanted to expose you," she summarises, "And presumably thought that killing him was the best solution?"
Peter nods. "She didn't think there was any other way."
May takes a deep breath and sits back in the seat. "I don't approve of killing," she says, the pain of their shared loss on her face. "I think it is a horrible thing to do to a person - deciding whether they'll continue breathing or not. I don't think people have the right to make that decision."
Peter agrees wholeheartedly, but he is worried that she is going to condemn Mikaela for what she did.
May looks at Peter again then, a mass of emotion in her eyes. "I would hate for you to have someone's death on your conscience. But if you ever had to, because you thought there was no other way, I would understand," she says, slow and deliberate.
Peter frowns a little, wondering where she's going.
May rubs the back of her neck. "Mikaela told me that she would protect you for as long as you were out doing this," she reveals, doing nothing to ease Peter's confusion. "If she thought this was the best way," she trails off, shrugging.
Peter stares at her. "You condone it?" he asks incredulously.
May winces. "Maybe not her methods, but her intentions, yes. I trust her to look out for you."
Peter threads his fingers into the hair at the crown of his head and clentches hard. He scowls at the couch, utterly lost.
"You're having trouble coming to terms with what she did?" May asks rhetorically. "Is it because she did it for you? Do you feel guilty?"
Peter doesn't move from his position, nor does he look at her. "No. She's her own person. It's not my fault that man's dead."
"So you think it's her fault?"
Peter winces, uncertain.
"Okay. What way do you feel when I say I'm glad she stopped the threat to you?"
Peter carefully observes his emotions. "I'm kind of.. confused?" he stutters.
May nods in the corner of his eye. "Alright. Then I think she's an awful human being and I don't want you to see her ever again."
Peter's fingers loosen so that his head can snap up, a sense of defensiveness overwhelming him. He opens his mouth to protest against May's condemnation, feeling protective, indignant, and above all else the urge to convince May otherwise.
But then he realises she doesn't actually believe it, and his arguments die on his tongue.
His face relaxes in surprise.
May smiles wryly. "Pete, I think it's clear that you're making this more complicated than it needs to be. Mikaela means a lot to you, and nothing she does will change that, because Mikaela's not an awful person. You don't need to like what she did, you need to be grateful that you've got someone watching your back who's willing to take on that responsibility in order to protect you. She obviously cares about you a lot as well - she seems like the kind of person who would just have ignored the threat and moved on unless she cared."
Despite himself, Peter smiles in amusement, nodding. "I guess I just realised she isn't who I thought she was."
May gives him a look. "Do you really believe that?"
Peter frowns and retreats into himself to ponder the question. It's what he's been using as a reason for his confusion about his feelings towards Mikaela, but maybe May is right.. maybe that didn't actually bother him.
He knows that Mikaela is strong and resilient, that she wouldn't do anything she didn't want to unless she deep down actually did. He knows that it takes her a while to make her mind up about people, but once she does she cares deeply for them and will do anything to protect them. He knows that she risked her own life to save Rhodes so that Mr Stark wouldn't be hurt, and he knows that she killed someone so that Peter wouldn't get hurt - and probably, now that he thinks about it, so that May wouldn't be hurt either. He knows that she watches over him, even though no one told her to keep doing so, and he knows that she puts herself in uncomfortable emotional situations in order to help those she cares about.
He knows that she is unlike anyone he has ever known before. He knows that he has come to see her as a close friend he can always rely on. He knows that she is a big part of his life that he can't just turn away from. He knows he really doesn't want to turn away from her. He knows he wants to see her again, even more often and for longer than he used to.
He knows he wants more.
He has never felt anything like this before, and it leaves him confused, yes, but also scared.