MJ and I laughed as we walked out from Fairhill High. My childhood friend was wildly exuberant as she skipped down the lane, pumping her fist high up all the while.

"I GOT THE PART!" She yelled for the world to hear.

"Slow down there, Red," I chuckled, "You only happened to get the main character role. Nothing special."

"I got the part!" Her feet made a ballerina twist, and I hoped she wouldn't break a leg before the rehearsal. "Peter, don't you see? This isn't just my big break. This is my origin story. The point when I set the first step to my path of stardom."

"As long as you don't puke on the stage-"

She promptly hit me with her purse, "That was one time, Peter, and I was seven!" I tried and failed to hold back my laughter as we went on into a chase, and kept me from her purse hitting while MJ was on my tail. "Come back and take your beating like a man, Peter Parker!"

Our laughter filled the barely empty street until we stopped from being out of breath. Though it barely broke a sweat for me, I was more out of breath from laughing.

"Sorry, I haven't said this yet, but congratulations on getting the part, MJ. You deserve it.

"Thanks, Peter… though I'm pretty sure you forget what the play it's about."

"No, no, no! I do, I do! It's a…" oh, come on brain, work with me here, "Is it Hamlet ?"

Green eyes shot me with a disappointed look, "Right author, wrong story. It's the Midsummer's Night Dream . God, what do they teach kids these days?"

"Oh ha ha ha! First of all, you're only three months older than me. Second, they happened to teach us how to make our own solar panel and competing for making the fastest three-wheeler vehicle. Much more exciting than reading lines "

MJ clicked her tongue, "Reading lines, he says. I don't know why I'm friends with a science nerd. Can't even appreciate a renaissance comedy."

"Excuse you. I don't need Shakespeare to teach me what a quality comedy is."

"Cheesy puns and quips are not 'quality comedy,' Peter."

I gasped in mocking horror and grasped my chest like I've been struck, "How dare you, my quips are a national treasure."

She burst out hard enough for MJ snorted before shutting her mouth and glaring at the smug look on my face. I spotted the nearest bus stop and didn't expect her to keep on walking, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I have a sleepover tonight with a friend."

"Alone? At this time of night? Do you want me to-"

"No, no, it's fine. She's only about five blocks away. I think I can manage. Say 'Hi' for Aunt May for me!"

"I will!" I waved goodbye until she turned her back on me.

Tonight's bus was in time and had to cheer for my rarely timed good luck. I sat on the back, air pods ready on my ears. I glanced back to see if MJ was completely out of sight. I caught the whiff of her red hair, swishing back and forth, but also the odd group of men. Their silhouette looked like they were checking her out. While that itself wasn't out of the ordinary, Mary-Jane is objectively a beautiful girl. But it didn't really incite confidence in their character.

The bus closed and started moving.

MJ turned on a corner, disappearing out of sight.

The men nodded with one another before turning in the same corner.

I was already up, practically leaping to the driver's side, shocking him into hitting the brake. He probably thought I teleported or something.

"Stop the bus!"

"JESUS! Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack."

I didn't stop to say sorry, jumping out of the bus and running where MJ had gone. I slipped into the alley, feet carrying me up the wall as I changed midway. Not wanting to waste a second while reaching her.

"Let me go! Let me go! I'm serious, get the hell away from me!" I heard MJ shrieking.

I followed her voice from the rooftops and witnessed the men cornering her in an alleyway. The rest of them laughed and howled like the rabid animal that they were. I watched as I pulled down my mask, using it as a reminder not to act too rash or too fast. Planning to make sure MJ wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire. Groups like these are tricky. After all, they like to play hostage once they know they're up against me if I give a single opening to turn my back on them.

My fist tightened as I watched her coat was pulled off, revealing her pink top. MJ was a fierce girl though she never was one to lay down in a fight. She slapped one guy across that the resounding sound of skin-hit-skin made even winced. She then turned and kicked the blond one hard in the balls. He clutched his pee-pee with a satisfying whine, giving the perfect height for MJ to elbow him on the face.

One man in a knit cap pulled her hard enough until her head hit the wall, and she groaned in pain. He edged close to her space. A knife glimmered a shy away from her neck while his buddies laughed. "Let's see you try us now, I dare you."

I was suddenly reminded of that day I confronted the thug who killed my Uncle and the anger I felt like boiling inside me. I felt the same anger waiting to burst.

Thunder rumbled, rain fell, and I thought, ' Screw it, time to kick their asses .'

I webbed all four of the dudes on the back and pulled them away.

"Fellas, that's not how you ask a girl out!" I chastised them. Within the dim-lit alley, it was hard to pinpoint my location with my voice almost echoing.

It was only after I flipped from my crouch on the wall did I get their attention. Facing them upfront with my back on MJ. "Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. While I'm not one to tolerate those who didn't drink their daily respect-women juice, I'm willing to skip force-feeding you a knuckle sandwich if you all walk away now."

"I'll give you a knuckle sandwich, you freak!" he didn't sound intimidating with his nasal-like voice and the dripping blood from his nose after MJ put a good hit on. I let him walk in my range before blinding him with my web then kicking him hard enough that it should knock the air out of him. The blond guy skidded through the pavement and didn't get back up.

The rest didn't need to be told before the three of them were charging right at me. I let the rage that had been simmering blow as I grabbed one man's wrist and flipped him 'till he hit the ground. I made another backflip that kicked away the two closing assailants. They were quick to get up and try again, but I caught the second punch and grabbed him by the lapel to flip him around, using his face as a shield-slash-punching bag for the knitted-cap-man that was coming at me.

Once he had enough, I threw him aside. The cap-man changed tactics and pulled out his knife again. Since this was the guy who threatened MJ, I decided to reserve something special for him.

"Oh, no! Is that a knife?!"

"You know that's right."

"You found my weakness, a small knife." I lifted both my hands in surrender. Seeing me quiver, the guy lunged with the knife, but I easily dodge it. "Please, please, anything but a knife!" He tried slicing me again and again. But I didn't even need my spidey-sense to dodge, duck, or parry. Dancing around the guy and making him look like a fool as I faux whined.

Finally having enough, I side-stepped past him and snagged a web on his back. Promptly giving him a personal merry-go-round experience before throwing him up on the wall. "Aaaw, what's wrong? Didn't the knife do much for you? After all, you seem to like shoving them on people's faces?"

I got closer to him. Cap-man tried to get up, face contorted in fright, but every wobbly step he made only made him slip. I grabbed the lapel of his jacket and shoved him close, so he would see the fear on his face reflected in my eyes. "Listen closely, you better be glad I'm only letting the police put you into custody because had you hurt her, I would have no problem putting you out of your misery, are we clear?"

The guy nodded with a tear-streaked face before I punched him hard enough to knock the lights out of him before falling face first to the wet ground in a splash. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly in and out, letting the adrenaline fizzled in my blood, the pounding drums ceasing from my ears, and the stinging pain pulling the muscle in me.

"Hey!"

I turned around. MJ was soaked from head to toe, and I worried she was getting cold. "Are you alright, ma'am? Wait, of course, you're not. Have you called the police? I should web this guy right about now so they won't bother any other people ever again."

"Spider-man."

"We should find a shelter. You're cold right now. I think there's a nearby construction site that we can find shelter in."

"Spider-man!"

"What?"

"You… err… should see your…" she waved vaguely at her back and the other hand pointing at me.

I followed her gaze, looking behind to find the small knife lodging near my shoulder, and then turned questioningly back at her. "Is there a problem, miss?

"You were stabbed!" MJ shrieked.

My eyes widened and whipped my head back, and now that it was pointed at me, indeed I was stabbed. Probably during my mad dash while threatening the cap-man. As if knowing it caught my attention, my brain finally clued me that I was stabbed by the oozing pain I felt.

"Well, that stings," I commented lightly, poking the knife on my back, "Actually, this really stings." Maroon red spread in contrast to my ruby red costume and the pain suddenly increased tenfold, " Aaaaaaaaargh , that hurts. Oh my God, getting stabbed really hurts!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!" MJ was already on me like a frantic nurse, pulling me over to the empty building nearby that was under construction. I listened without a word because it's hard to get your head straight with all this pain and distracting you. She laid me by the unpainted wall and checked the wound.

"What do I do? What do I do? Oh God, this is so not how I imagine my night turns out."

I couldn't help the chuckle escape from me, "You're telling me." Usually I would be freaking out right about now, but it's a rule of thumb to have one person panicking in each group to do it for you.

"Anyway, I'm going to call an ambulance so—"

"No, no, no, no!" I gripped her hand before she even reached her bag. "Bad idea!"

"What?! You were stabbed. You need a hospital, idiot!"

"Hello, secret identity? Vigilante? I don't know whether calling the authority would either expose me or get me in jail, most likely both. Besides, it's only a flesh wound."

My Monty Python attempt was not appreciated, judging by the heated glare that ramped up in intensity.

"You. Were. Stabbed!" She repeated, slower, as if I was brain damaged instead of being stabbed. "You have no right to complain when you can't help yourself when needed." She went for her phone, fingers dialing the three-digit-numbers.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Thankfully, she did, but not without giving me that icy stare of hers. "I can treat myself just fine. Look, the bleeding isn't extensive, so it didn't cut any major arteries or anything. All I need to do is pull it out and stitch it, no problemo!"

"Uh-huh, and how exactly are you going to stitch your back?"

"Err…"

MJ threw her hand up, exasperated, "This is New York's finest hero?!"

"Excuse you. I'm a fantastic hero! I'm just... working out the kinks, that's all."

MJ gritted her teeth before something like resolve flashed in her eyes, "Okay, Spider-boy, here's how we're gonna do. You either let me stitch you up myself, or I'll call the ambulance and damn the consequences."

"...and what's stopping me from webbing away right now?"

"Are you telling me you're going to leave a poor girl, who's almost got killed, in her lonesome, at night, in the rain?"

Damn my bleeding heart, this girl got me good. "Fine, fine, but how are you going to stitch me anyway?"

"I have a sewing kit in my bag. I always have it in hand whenever I fix up costumes for the drama club."

"Ah, and do you know how to stitch up people with that?"

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence that followed, "I'm sure they explain it in wikiHow."

Oh, Honey, there are so many things wrong with those words, I don't know where to start. I'm pretty sure even a fanfic writer would think twice before relying on first aid from freaking wikiHow.

(AN: *Author starts to sweat*)

"You know what, I'll tell you how. First, we need to sterilize the needle so if you have alcohol or a lighter, that would be nice—" MJ didn't need to be told twice before procuring a silver lighter from her bag. My mind went briefly blank as she did exactly as I said previously.

"Spider-man? Spider-man?!"

"Huh?"

"What do I do next?"

"Err, pulling out the knife would be nice."

"Oh, right, how do I…"

Not feeling okay making her feel uncomfortable, I gripped the handle of the knife, grit my teeth, and pulled it oooouuuuuuuuuutttt Jesus, Allah, Budha, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu— that hurts!

"Are you okay? You're kind of bleeding again."

"Fine," I squeaked, "Fine, I'll put pressure on it. You just try to stitch my skin back like any other rip cloth."

MJ gulped as her face had gone paler, but nodded nonetheless. I felt the prick of the needle before it went through my skin. While it stung, it wasn't bad enough for me to squirm.

To feel the silence that descended on us, I cleared my throat and addressed what's on my mind, " Soooooo ... do you smoke?"

"What?"

"Ah, well, I didn't think a pretty girl like you would have a lighter unless you smoke or someone close to you does."

"Oh, err, yeah, a couple of times. Usually with friends though."

I thanked the mask for putting a cover of my face. Otherwise, my dubiousness might show. All the years I've known MJ, not once have I seen her smoke a single cigarette. And it's not like I have a problem with her doing it (Though it would be an obvious concern). But the fact she said she does it around friends… it makes me wonder why she was hiding it from me.

As if she had something to be ashamed of.

Never in my life did look at MJ made me see a stranger. We've always shared everything; our thoughts, dreams, likes, and dislikes. Spending time together with mutual hobbies and supporting the things we're passionate about the most. There were never any secrets between us.

Clearly I was wrong.

Trying to put a lighter air, I went on filling the silence, "You do know smoking is bad for you, right? Not excluding the potential tumor, giving you blackened teeth, early wrinkles, or go blind! That's a waste on you."

"Wow, first I got saved from getting killed by a costumed vigilante, now I just got a no-smoking lecture while stitching that same person. Could this day get any worse?"

"Hey, I am reasonably concerned!"

"Well, no one asked you to!"

"You don't need to for me to care!"

That stunned her silence and even her stitching pause before making her finishing touch and cutting the string off. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry. I know I'm messed up, you don't need to remind me."

"I never said you were," I fully turned to face her and didn't expect the tears that started streaking down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, hey, don't cry. You smoke, it's natural to want to try new things. I tried eating Tide Pod once. Between the two of us, I'm pretty sure I'm the stupid one."

She barked out a laugh even as the tears kept flowing, but I saw it as a small win anyway.

But then her smile fell, the tears began anew to the point of wailing, and I found myself hugging my childhood friend as she sobbed on me. It was quite a shock since the last time I saw her broke down, she had a big fight with her dad and wouldn't go home for a week.

By the time she slightly calmed down, her mouth ran away with her as she began to tell me her story. The ones I know of her home life; an alcoholic father who she'll never know when he gets physically abusive, and a kind mother who she resents for staying. As well as the ones I didn't know. Her clique group she loves but always looking for trouble like riding speeding cars or stealing simple cosmetics for a daring game, and while she didn't say anything outright; I'm pretty sure she smoked more than just a simple cigarette.

"They're not bad people, I swear! It's just… they think all those stuff are just a game to them. I feel like I shouldn't, couldn't turn my back on them because I could only accept the good things about them and reject the bad things. That wouldn't be fair."

She cried for another moment, and I kept a good hold on her while contemplating what to do. At times like these that I feel like a kid in a costume. What kind of advice should I give to my best friend? Telling her to get better friends is easier said than done. Maybe some people can survive through loneliness, but MJ thrived among groups. Being alone would be hell for her. It doesn't help that she genuinely likes them and I trust her judgment, but you can't really say their actions are anything to be brushed over.

Uncle Ben, please bestow this unworthy nephew your infinite wisdom!

"Err, okay, okay, have you calmed down?"

She sniffed a bit before nodding, "Yeah."

"Do you… want me to give you advice, or did you just want me to listen?"

She snorted, "...no, I'll skip on the advice but thanks for listening."

Thank goodness, I didn't have to because I seriously have no clue how to help her, nor do I want to give her flimsy words. "No problem, are you… going to be okay?"

"Maybe? Can't let a little setback drag me down, right? You should go. I'm sure there are more damsels and gents in distress who need you."

It's an apparent dismissal if I hadn't heard any, and the rain has already let up too, so there was no stopping us from going our separate ways, and she's right that there may be people who might need my help on the street. The logical thing is to continue my patrol.

But I can't help thinking that MJ needs help right now, and she's right in front of me.

What exactly can you do? You're not a therapist or a counselor. You're just a kid in a costume who can only make chemicals and throw punches.

I made my decision.

MJ started walking away, and I walked right beside her. She turned, looking confused at me, "What are you doing?"

"Walking you home, obviously. You did point out that I could leave a traumatic girl, shivering alone at night."

"I'm already close to my friend's house. I don't need a bodyguard."

"Are you sure you still want to go out? A nice warm bath at your home might be more relaxing. Not to mention I doubt you're in the mood around people. Maybe close friends that you don't have to wear a mask, you'll just mentally and physically be tired. But hey , I'm just a strange guy with a mask, what do I know?"

MJ halted her steps and gave me the stink eyes, "Says the person who just got stabbed. Shouldn't you be swinging home to lick your wounds or something?"

"All the more reason to keep my benefactor saved after she kindly stitched my wound up. I'm sure your friend would be thrilled to meet the 'Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man.' Think of all the endless questionings you'll be asked aaaaaaall niiiiiiiight looooooong ."

"Urgh, fine, Smartass, I'll go straight home, happy?"

"Ecstatic."

We went back to the previous bus stop and waited coldly side by side, using each other as heaters until the bus came. Her coat left on the side, acting more of a baggage than keeping her warm.

"I already said I'm going home. Why are you still here?"

Damn, this girl is stubborn. "Aaaw, I'm hurt. I thought you like my company."

"Hmm, do I like having a loudmouth superhero by my side… meh , could be worse."

"Ouch, savage."

Our conversation lulled into silence, but it wasn't an awkward kind. We just let the rain, now lightened into a pitter-patter sound instead of the thundering one, filled the void of noise and gave a serene sort of atmosphere.

But then again, I was never one for silence, "So about before-"

"Didn't I say I'll skip the lecture?" Her voice broke no argument.

I raised my hands in surrender, "Hey, no lecture, no judgment for me. I'm just saying, don't you have at least one friend with who you can share this? If it troubles you enough to cry over, shouldn't you… Err… talk to someone? Preferably one who doesn't wear a mask?"

"Absolutely not!"

Urk , I mean it's her call, but damn if it doesn't hurt. Is Peter Parker that much unreliable to her? I asked almost resignedly, "Why not?"

"He's the best thing that happened to me. I'm not going to lose him just because he found out I'm a screw-up!"

" HEY ! You're not a screw-up. You're a beautiful, talented girl who's good enough to get the main part in a theater club, good enough to sew up a wound and tell-off a half-assed superhero. I mean, sure, I don't usually get knifed. I actively tried to avoid it. But most girls kind of run away the moment they find an opening. They don't stay and help like you do, so be proud of who you are. "

MJ blushed and I felt I was on the right track.

"So you make mistakes, like anybody else in the world." At least your mistake didn't get anyone killed , "If this best friend of yours is as great as you said, which I think you're exaggerating, I bet he wouldn't leave you for anything. The question you should ask instead is; if you're satisfied with the way you are now and what you're going to do about it."

MJ's lips parted, her eyes widened like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, and I didn't think it's possible for her to be so unsure of herself.

"Peter…"

"What was that?"

"My best friend, his name is Peter. If...if I tell him everything I am, will he be disappointed? Be honest, what do you think?"

"...I think he'll be more sorry that he never realized the struggle you're dealing with... and admire how brave you are for being honest."

MJ turned pensive, and the bus's arrival was right on time. She shouldered her bag and took the first step to it before pausing and looking right back at me, "Thank you, Spider-Man, for everything." The bus closed the door and took MJ out of sight. The rain conveniently stopped, and I figured this is an excellent time to continue patrolling.

. . .

The next day, MJ came to have breakfast alongside May and me, with a mouth full of her signature wheat pancake and the television blaring out the news that included updates of Spider-Man's activity.

MJ made a loud, strangely wistful sigh that it's impossible for me not to ask what she's thinking.

"Oh, I haven't told you? I was saved by Spider-man last night?"

"Saved?!" May said in alarm, "Mary-Jane, did you get in trouble last night? Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Missus Parker. It was only a slight mishap." She lied so easily, I had to bite my lip as not to contradict her, "Anyway, I knew he'd been the talk of the town, but seeing him first hand is something else."

"Well, I'm just glad that the young man kept you safe. We wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Thank you, May, but you should have seen him, he was… incredible… "

I choked on my pancake and had a hard time breathing at the sight of her blushing and lovestruck eyes.

No… no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening. Tell me this is a nightmare.

"Oh, is little MJ having a crush with her knight-in-red-and-blue-spandex?" May teased, not realizing the horror those words are giving me.

MJ hid her face beneath her hands, but we both hadn't missed the flush that went all the way up to her ears. "Is it that obvious?"

... oh, fuck me sideways.

I have this sudden urge to jump out of the window as a miserable attempt to run from reality, but I settled by jumping on my feet and hastily walked toward the exit.

"Peter, where are you going? You haven't finished your breakfast."

"I… err… have an early meeting with Dr. Connors, so I'll be leavingloveyoubyeAuntMay !"

So quick I was to escape, I never noticed how the future shining star of Fairhill High looked back and stuck her tongue out.

. . .

"Good morning, Dr. Connors."

"Peter, this is a rare sight for you to be here so early.

"Well, I had an early night off so I managed to have a good night's sleep for once."

Dr. Connor laughed, "You know, most teenagers would rather play outside rather than getting stuck in a stuffy lab with an old man."

"Well, if I was an average teen, I think I would have made a lot more friends."

"Hear, hear!"

"So at what point of the research are we in now?"

Dr. Connor's smile became more bitter. He scrutinized the notes he had on hand, the incomplete formula on the whiteboard, and numerous testing tubes set aside specifically in the Failure Area. "Unfortunately, we're at the hardest part of the project, which is figuring out the equation that disappeared alongside your father. For 9 years, I've tried many times to recreate it, but—" he huffed a derisive laugh, "I guess I'll never be as good as Rick."

"Don't say that. Doctor Connor! My father's foundings shouldn't ever diminish your talent. Hey, for all we know, he could have just been lucky. We both know the greatest innovation can either come from brilliance or luck."

That managed to quirk his lips up, "Thank you for trying to cheer me up, Peter. Though I can't quite agree, nothing comes from only lamenting my own shortcomings. We'll just have to work twice as hard."

"What's the equation for anyway?"

Connor lit up and proceeded a lecture that he must have remembered at heart as he explained the theory behind the Decay Rate Algorithm; which is a peptide algorithm that determines the optimum sequence of amino acids in order to recreate cells without it growing too fast like cancer or too slow that the cell would die before regenerating the next sets. Through that calculation, it's ideally possible to regrow limbs using the genes from animals such as lizards. All those things rang familiar to me, prodding separate memories of my childhood that sounded insignificant until this moment.

"Wait, Dr. Connors, may I borrow your marker? I think I know the solution."

The good doctor was reasonably skeptical but offered it all the same. In my mind palace, I traced back weeks before, a childhood notebook on hand and random scribbles on them. Including a particular equation I was retracing on the whiteboard. Dr. Connors gawked like he couldn't believe what he was witnessing, even going so far as to wipe his glasses for a moment. His hand stretched out to the numbers in reverie. He might have caressed it if it didn't risk wiping the equation off.

"This, this is, this is extraordinary, Peter. Where did you learn this?"

My cheeks strained from the admiration my idol gave solely for me. It didn't take much for me to twist the truth a bit. "Oh, it sort of came to me, I suppose. I think it's only because you were a really great teacher. Really helps with putting the puzzle pieces."

"Then let's get to work."

And we did. Using an AI model trial and the imputed DNA information of both lizard and mouse, isolating the lizard's gene that enabled regeneration before inserting them to the host subject. In this case, Freddy the three-legged mouse. It took a few digital trials before the computer accepted the algorithm to create a stereotyped protein sample that helps regenerate limbs.

The Doctor started chuckling, softly before he began a full-blown laughter, hard enough that he couldn't keep himself balanced. I rushed to his side to keep him balanced before being pulled into a one-armed hug.

"Oh Peter! If this works, it will change everything we know of modern science."

My grin stretched to match his and was about to express my own jubilant. There are still many kinks and errors that we needed to adjust. But this is the first step in helping lots of people. And the first step is always the most important one.

We then spent hours creating the set of genes needed before finally injecting them into the host subject. It will take weeks before we get actual results. When it was almost time to clock out, Dr. Connors invited me over for dinner at his house. Being so insistent in his invite, I agreed and told Aunt May why I'd be home late.

The moment we opened the door, we were greeted with a barrelling 10-year-old almost knocking the good ol' doctor's feet while crying 'Dad!"

"Happy to see you too, Bill," he laughed while hugging back. The kid wrapped his arm around his dad's neck and half lifted himself, "Ooof, sorry kiddo, but this old man can't lift you with one arm so why don't you help your mom prepare dinner while I wash up?"

"Okay!"

"Honey, who's this?" Mrs. Connors asked from behind her son.

"Martha, this is Peter Parker. The intern I've been talking about. Peter, this is Martha, my wife, and son, Billy."

Martha smiled politely, while Billy waved with a toothy smile. Later that evening, the Connors offered me their homemade beef steak and gradually got to know their spirited son, who rambled on like there's no tomorrow about being a doctor like his dad. Mrs. Connors prodded me about my life as any curious housewife would have. The family of three as a whole looked almost picture-perfect, the kind you often see in 1950s Nuclear Family posters.

One other thing I learned about Dr. Connors is how much of a corny dad he is on Billy. I lost count of the n th Dad Jokes and bad puns that made even me cringe. Billy shared my sentiments as he made the signature whine, ' Urgh, Daaaaaad…' but the irritable fondness made me think this was a staple conversation in the Connors household.

At one point, while watching the families get into each other's nerves with beloved gazes, laughing side by side, all I could think about was the times I shared in my own table between May and Ben. It was only by hitching back my sniff did I realize I was caught in my own memories. It wasn't fast enough not to catch Dr. Connors' notice before he pushed Billy off the table to do his chore.

The older man looked at me like he knew I was thinking. Tilting himself on the chair to face me, "I'm sorry," he began, "I didn't think what this dinner could make you feel."

"No, no, there's no need for apologies, Dr. Connors…"

"Please, call me Curt out of office."

"Err, yes, Curt. You shouldn't apologize because of my issues. Besides, you have a lovely family. I'm glad you invited me over."

"Thank you, I- urgh." Dr. Connotr cut himself midway, slumping down while taking hold of his missing arm. I moved forward to brace himself, but he quickly held up his hand. "Fine!" he said, "Fine, I'm fine. It rarely ever happens these days, so it took me by surprise."

I nodded, but couldn't help glancing at the vacant space where his arm should be. It never occurred to me to ask what caused his missing limbs since I've known him all my life as the one-Doctor-with-one-arm.

"Go on," Curt gently said, "I know you want to ask. Don't worry, I'm used to it."

"Err, what happened Doctor… I mean, Curt?"

"It happened around two decades ago, not to toot my horn, but I was a pretty good surgeon back then. Pretty sure, would have made Stephen Strange a run for his money."

I pretended I know who that person is and nodded, "Really? I mean, I think I've read before that you were a surgeon but it never elaborates much."

"Yes. I enlisted in the U.S. Army to offer my medical service there. I wanted to help people and thought the best way was saving wounded soldiers on the battlefield. I lost count of how many people I saved and how many I lost, but it felt like making a change, you know? That thrill of giving everything you have and knowing you're capable of giving second chances to people."

At some point, Curt had worn a dazed gaze as if staring at a long past memory reenacting in his eyes' mind.

"But then everything blew up on my face, literally. My group triggered a landmine, then the next thing I knew, my hand had to be amputated before I was swiftly removed from active duty. I didn't just lose my arm then. I lost my friends, my career, everything that made me who I am," he took a shuddering breath in and said grimly. Connors looked down at his only arm, and I tried to imagine the horror of being one of the few left who survived but couldn't lift a scalpel for the rest of his life. The one thing he was so proud of about himself and dedicated his life to helping others.

"It was hard afterward. You can't imagine how simply losing a limb could change how you live your life or how society sees you. The stares they gave you for being physically different. Normal things we took for granted became twice as hard. The phantom pain that hits you and makes you vulnerable…. weak … I was lucky enough to be alive, but sometimes… sometimes I wondered if I'm better off dead."

My eyes widened, bewildered at his hushed words, and so did Curt. It must have been a slip of the tongue if he was so quick to reassure me, "I'm better now, obviously. Your father actually helped me with that."

"He did?"

"Yes. I got another Ph.D., and we were college buddies then before both of us went to work for Oscorp. He was passionate as he was brilliant. Most of his ideas were borderline sci-fi, but years after we worked together, he never believed any of his ideas were impossible and that his failures were 'minor setbacks.'"

I grinned, "That's roughly how Uncle Ben described him too. He said he never knows when to give up. Aunt May likes to point out he's no different from his brother."

"Good to know that man had never changed then," Curt laughed, "Anyway, his magnum opus had been those spiders we've shown before. Only your father managed to do a cross-species hybridization of those spiders with genes from different types of genus with a stable result and lasting longevity."

"Wow, I knew those spiders were such a big deal, but I never was sure why."

"Not many do. Those spiders were also the only thing your father left in Oscorp. Almost all his research was wiped clean, and I've been tasked to recreate his success ever since."

"Do, do you know why he disappeared so suddenly?" Curt shook his head before I finished asking.

"I'm afraid we may never know the answer."

AN: Oh wow, now I understand why people ship MJ/Peter so much. Even though this my own version of MJ writing them together is so much fun! I was almost, ALMOST, tempted to switch side when the only reason I'm making this fic is for a Peter/Gwen happy ending.

You're good, MJ. Keep being your awesome self girl.

Also, I always feel mainstream media get the jocks and cheerleaders to be this one-dimensional bully most of the time when the nerds or introverts are the MC. Honestly, I have experienced with them but they are less of a bully and more like they're not aware what they're doing is a problem or believe it's something minor since everyone is doing it.

Doing bad stuff doesn't equal being a bad person, especially when you're teens trying to make sense of yourself and your identity. I tried to convey that through MJ here without making her too OOC. Hope you guys like it.