Peter struggled to get to even get to his knees as he gasped for air. The latest assault by his enemy had likely AT LEAST cracked a rib, if not completely shattered it. Of course, this was the latest on a very long list of things that had gone wrong for him recently. He finally managed to get to where he was putting equal weight on his knees and forearms as his enemy came walking towards him from across the rooftop, blade in hand.
"I have to admit," Kraven said in this thick Russian accent, "after our years of battles, tonight has been sadly anti-climactic. It's almost as if your mind has been somewhere else, Spider."
That was an understatement, to put it mildly. The fact was, Peter's mind was anywhere but there from the start of the fight, and it had cost him. He was thinking about how being Spider-Man had made having a day job difficult. He was thinking about the mounting list of expenses he was facing. He was thinking of how, for whatever reason, the entire world had seemed against him recently.
But most of all, he was thinking about his losses, and one in particular was hitting him hard today.
Today was the 10th anniversary of his Uncle Ben's death. It was hard to believe so much time had passed since that horrible night, because it still sat fresh in Peter's memory. He still frequently had dreams where he would relive his foolish decision to let the man who would go on to kill his uncle in cold blood go. He had been so...irresponsible, and, of all people, the man who had tried to teach him differently had paid the price for it.
"You've lost your conviction," Kraven said, his footsteps growing louder to Peter's super hearing as he drew nearer. "You fight for this city, but my grudge has never been with it's people, but with you."
He was probably not even 10 feet away now.
"By not endangering innocent lives, I have taken away your purpose in fighting," Kraven continued, finally coming to a stop, the city's nightly lighting casting the shadow of his figure over his prey. Peter managed to look up into his foe's dark, chilling, murderous eyes.
"Without your precious city to protect, you fight for nothing."
As Kraven drew his sword, Peter's mind suddenly operated a million miles an hour; perhaps it was his life flashing before his very eyes. He really couldn't say how or why this was happening, but there was one thing he did know, one person on whom his mind centered despite the rapid nature of his thoughts.
Michelle Jones-Parker. M.J. The love of his life.
He remembered that fateful day on the bridge in London, when they first confessed their feelings to each other. He was exhausted and hurt, but the revelation that she liked him too had suddenly made all the pain and fatigue feel as though it were nothing compared to the joy in his heart.
He remembered the day they first said "I love you" to one another. He had convinced her to let him take her to the top of the Empire State Building, giving her the full view of the city. As they stared out into the New York sunset, he turned and looked at her, and the setting sun's rays against her face was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Next thing he knew, he had blurted out those three words. He immediately wished he could take it back, not because he didn't mean them, but because he hadn't wanted to say them so randomly; he had wanted to make sure the first time he said them was just at the right time. Fortunately, she just stared at him with the most beautiful smile on her face, and said the words that put any of his concerns to rest.
"I love you too."
They said those words again a little over a year ago on the altar, as they professed their love for each other in front of a small gathering of their closest family and friends, and were pronounced husband and wife. Through it all, M.J. had stuck with him. No financial issue, no job loss, no bad press...nothing could seem to dissuade her from his side.
It was in that moment, as his enemy's victory seemed inevitable, that Peter remembered what he was fighting for.
He suddenly raised his arm, stopping the swing of Kraven's sword instantly.
"You're wrong," he said, staring into the eyes of his opponent with renewed conviction in his own. Strength returned to his muscles, powered by the one things stronger than any heartbreak, than any loss...love. Pulling his adversary forward, Peter delivered a striking blow to his enemies nose, sending him flying across the rooftop.
"I've lost so much in my life," Peter said as he staggered to his feet, fighting the searing pain across his body. "I do fight to protect this city, but I also fight for the people that I love." His opponent gathered himself, rising up as Peter strode toward him. Lunging fiercely, Kraven jabbed the sword in his hand towards Peter, so quickly stepped out of the way, grabbing his enemy by the arms and hurtling him over his shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon as he smacked hard against the brick roof. Clearly growing more frustrated by the second, he got up and jumped, preparing to slam his fists down in a powerful hit. Peter braced himself, catching his opponent's flying fists.
"And that, Kraven, is why you will never beat me."
Drawing his fist back then launching it forward just as quickly, Peter struck his foe in the head, sending him clean to the other side of the roof and collapsing in a pitiful heap, unconscious. Peter webbed him up as a police helicopter, no doubt called to the scene by someone who had witnessed the long and brutal brawl between him and his own personal Tarzan, began to hover over the scene. He had certainly been on worse terms with the cops before, but he still could never seem to predict how they'd react to him, so he took the opportunity to make his exit, diving off the building and swinging off towards home.
The trip home felt like hours even though it was likely no more than ten minutes due to the intensity of his pain, but eventually Peter found himself crawling into his and M.J.'s apartment's bedroom through the window. He hadn't even put both feet on the floor when M.J. came to him.
"Oh my goodness, Peter, are you okay? What happened?" she asked frantically. While the world saw the tough, tenacious woman his wife was, Peter was one of the only ones who got to see the truly vulnerable side she possessed underneath those nerves of steel. It was one of the many things that made their relationship that much more special.
"Oh, just had a run in with our favorite Russian Tarzan," he replied sarcastically as she helped him to sit down and lean back against the bed. "You know, the usual."
"What do you need?" M.J. said. She had learned over the years to focus in on finding out what he needed and getting it ready.
"I probably have at least a cracked rib or two, so I'll probably need my midsection wrapped," he said. "Plus, half a bottle of Ibuprofen for the pain."
"You really do have one crazy metabolism," M.J. said, a small smile showing on her face for the first time since he got back. She then ran to get what was needed, returning not even 30 seconds later with his medicine and wrap. She helped him out of his suit and proceeded to wrap a few layers of bandaging around his midsection before offering him a glass of water and the medicine he requested. After downing several doses of the medicine, Peter just stared ahead at nothing in particular.
"What's going on?" M.J. asked, causing his gaze to shift to her. "You're doing that thing where you disappear inside your own head again."
Peter looked back to the wall ahead of him. "He almost had me tonight Em," he said. "He nearly killed me. I was letting everything that's happened weigh me down, and my head wasn't in the fight."
"I know today has never been an easy day for you," his wife acknowledged.
"Thankfully, I remembered the most important thing that I'm fighting for in my life," Peter added.
"And what's that?" M.J. asked, her head tilted in her usual curious manner.
Peter turned and looked his wife in the eyes. "The ability to come home to you. You're my world, Em. I love you."
M.J.'s face softened significantly, her eyes nearly teared up, and a meek, light smile spread across her cheeks. She leaned forward, and Peter arched his head up just a little as she pressed a soft, gentle, yet powerful kiss on his lips. After a moment they separated, and she replied the four words that Peter never grew tired of hearing.
"I love you too."
I randomly came up with this idea one night some time back, and I thought I'd bring it here as well. Hope you enjoy!
Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!
"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13