The world feels tilted. Mary Jane Watson does not know how to explain it, but as she sits before the unconscious woman that happens to be Peter's girlfriend's mom, she has one look at Aunt May beside her and confirms that she is going through the same.
"What's wrong with Peter?" she asks for a change of subject because morbid thoughts are all that feel her head at the moment. She knows something is happening for sure, not only to her, and fate and luck have mercy it's not some nightmare like the blip again. She's already had too much on her plate lately. A sudden change of pace is all she does not want for a while.
"I don't know," May says sadly. "He's been very upset for the day, but I don't get it why he didn't show up. And now the poor girl has to go after him. I should have stopped her, and I don't know why I didn't. She looks pretty shaken, provided the only family she knows is, you know, there's no guarantee what might happen."
Mary Jane sighs. "I tried contacting Peter, but he's not picking up my calls."
"Nor mine," May says, fishing out her phone again. She tries his number and waits for about a minute. It goes unanswered. "Let's just hope everything is alright."
"May," MJ calls, "is it only me, or you too? The world feels very hazy, and my entire body aches."
"I know," May says, trying to get up. "Maybe it's something to do with the weath-" She doesn't finish when she suddenly collapses on the floor. MJ cries out. She tries to move, but it's like she is weighed down by a rock. She tries to empty her lungs out, but not a single sound erupts.
It's right then that the door opens. At first she is relieved, thinking it's the doctor, but the person standing on the door is a woman with no apron. MJ squints for it's too bright outside to make out who it is.
She doesn't have to wait, though, for the woman slowly strides in. Every moment feels slow, frozen in the cold, because MJ's heart stops beating as she looks in horror at her mother walking towards her. And she knows what that face says. It's sympathetic, but it's there: You never came.
In the background there is the sound of her father, crying and moaning and following his voice is that of a woman's. Her mom and her sister are sitting in the kitchen. Mother sits on the chair, her legs brought up and her arms hugging herself. Sis has a hand on Mom's shoulder, and mom is weeping. She is holding a skirt.
And all Mary Jane can do is just watch.
Her younger self walks into the kitchen, holding out a purse to her mother.
"Did you get a new bag?" she asks, when her elder sister snatches it from her and throws it across the table, leaving the little girl perplexed and shocked.
"I'm sorry sweetie," Mom says, pulling her to a hug. "Gayle didn't mean to do that. Did you Gayle?"
Her elder sister shakes her head. "I really meant it, but not on her."
"But it was such a nice bag," the young MJ protests. "Why did you throw it away?"
Gayle stands up and picks up her little sister and sits down again. "I did because it's not mom's. It's hers." She points a finger at the ceiling.
Her mother ruffles MJ's hair sadly. "Gayle get you and your sister out of here."
The cars rushes towards her at an impossible speed. Maybe it's the season to get road-killed, Michelle thinks, fixed on the spot. The entire world is a chaos, like it has suddenly decided to go crazy and self-destruct. Before her, Peter is still in the air, and it is like the playback speed in the world has been slowed down exponentially. Peter has his mask taken off, and Michelle guesses it's because he somehow knew she'd come after him. And it feels better that he's there for her, and if that damn car makes contact with her and breaks her, at least she'll go with the knowledge that she was not alone.
Someone js there for her.
Peter is.
She must have died, because she can still feel herself. There's no pain. Maybe it's the next phase after death, where people saw strange things. Or maybe she's not dead. She can't recall what actually happened, for suddenly she is in a dark space. She hears voices, and as they grow louder, her surrounding lightens up and she finds she is back in her room. She knows what the voices are now. They're her friends'. They all quieten up as she walks towards them from the door.
"Why have you stopped talking?" she asks them, but no one replies. "It's alright," she says, "I was anyway thinking of calling you guys. I needed to talk to you."
"About what?" a voice suddenly asks, and when her friends give way, she sees that it's Mary Jane sitting on the edge of her bed.
"About…" Michelle wonders what she wanted to tell. There's something that's nagging her, something that's been quite upsetting, but she just can't recall.
"You think they're here for you?" Mary Jane asks. She smirks and chuckles, and the rest of the people start sniggering too. She stands up and walks around her in circles. "Michelle Jones," she says. "The girl who thinks she's hard metal. But you're only a coconut, aren't you? Tough from the outside, but just, from the outside. Inside, there's all cushions bouncing off thoughts about your mother." She smiled. "And oh, yeah. Peter."
Some memories brush her thoughts, and a voice suddenly sings in her head. It's that wretched old prediction. It's the voice of that woman from that night. Fair share. Fair share.
Mary Jane interrupts though. "You're not as special as you think you are that Peter will ever come to see you. No sir."
She walks to the door, opens it and stands aside. Michelle watches in disbelief as her "friends" walk out without even glancing at her. Though, her pride catches the better of her and she watches expressionlessly. She hopes she looks indifferent as the red-head watches her intently.
"What?" she asks, "Aren't you moved by how they walked out?"
Michelle shrugs. "I'm pretty used to it." She turns her back to her and looks at the window. Any sign of a red and black dressed guy swinging in the air would be much welcome now.
"Do you know why Peter Parker is a void?" the red-head asked from behind.
"I know," Michelle says, "but do y-"
Her words freeze in her mouth. It's so icy cold suddenly that she can't even feel her emotions. It's not the red-head standing before her at the doorway, which is now shut. It's a man. A tall man, easily seven feet high. He's thin and towering over her. Dressed in green-tattered clothes and a cloak, he has pale skin, almost painted grey. Dry lips crooked an evil smile at her, and what was more disturbing are his eyes. Those eyes are empty, yet they say everything. They suck in every rational thought, and they devour her. Everything- all the trouble that she had felt these recent days, every nagging reminders and bad dreams all flood into the room. Into her.
"Where were you?" Michelle asks, holding his hand. They are cold as dead, and she too looks a bit pale. "We were waiting so long."
"Why didn't you come for us?" Mary Jane asks. Her hair does not look as red as it used to. Instead it's all brown and muddy now. There's something in her face. Soot?
"Mary," Peter says, "Michelle, where are we?"
"Can't you see?" Mary Jane says, stepping aside and gesturing with her hand.
They are in a filed. It' so long that Peter doesn't see the end. Nor the beginning. There are tombstones stretching before him. And on each stone is engraved a name.
The one nearest to him shines in the pale moonlight. Peter can't believe what it says.
He casts a glance at Michelle. "I…I don't understand. What-"
"I told you I was waiting so long for you," she says, and her eyes reflect a mixture of anger and sadness. "You never came."
"I…" Peter struggles to find the word. "I was there. I was always there." Or not. "Wasn't I?"
Mary Jane stands on his face. "Where were you, then, when the sleep killed her? When the sleep killed me? When it killed everyone else?"
Peter squints. "Sleep? What sleep, MJ?"
Michelle curses. "Is she MJ, or am I MJ? Weren't you told to stay away from me? Don't you remember?"
"I did."
"And then it killed her," Mary Jane said. "Why Peter? Why have you been so lousy lately?"
"I tried my best," Peter says, trying to reach for Michelle. Every second she seems to be fading. His hand go through hers."
Michelle retreats. "If you really had tried your best, you wouldn't have let that happen."
Peter turns around to see what she's pointing at. It sends a chill down his entire body.
It's the grave of Mr. Stark. There's a tall man digging it. He's wearing a suit, checkered with different shades of green. His skin is almost grey, and the wind blows lightly around him. Behind him there is a horse breathing out flames, and on the horse is the weird postman from the park.
The tall man with the spade stops digging and looks at Peter. He smiles.
"Hello Peter, do you want to help me?" the man asks, and although he is quite far away so that he looks only as big as Peter's fingers, he can hear him quite well. It's like the voice was in his head, for it was scary clear. "Come on," the man says again, and this time Peter notices that his lips aren't even moving. He's just grinning from ear to ear while his horse breaths out fire behind him and the old man on top of it waves a letter at Peter. "We can meet and introduce ourselves." Peter backs away. Mary Jane and Michelle are gone. The man in green suddenly frowns. "Don't you want to talk?"
But Peter already knows who he is.
A/N: Hopefully you liked this chapter. I've shifted to multiple views now and it will carry on for some time as we are approaching the end. Another two chapters and this is done. Hope you like it till now. Please give me some feedback.
To Gmac, thanks for your reviews. You'll get your answers soon!
