(*Fair Warning: because the Author understands neither life nor words, this chapter is the longest one yet and might have just been some kind of weird therapy session I dunno ;).

~+~+~+~ 4:04 P.M. ~+~+~+~

MJ's memories of Peter began returning in a steady, indomitable stream after her memory of that lunchtable conversation Sophomore year.

She remembered a flood of random things at first, as the rain began to patter lightly across the city before her. For example, Peter really hated anything and everything lemon; he and Ned were definitely best friends, as evidenced in part by how he and Ned had held frequent, excited (but hushed) conversations during lunch that she could never bring herself to really intrude upon even when she had the chance to; and her suspicions surrounding Peter's connection with Stark, the Avengers, and Spiderman were reluctantly tabled for a while soon after they arose when schoolwork became more intense.

(If she were being entirely honest, she had also tabled them because they had been beginning to seem a little too conspiratorial even for her, someone who knew a lot of things typically labeled conspiracy theories weren't mere theories at all).

She also remembered beginning the slow, painful, but ultimately rewarding process of trying to be more open and honest in ways that attracted rather than drove people away. She started small on that front—letting some of her Decathlon teammates call her MJ, for example, and in turn, calling them friends even when it felt awkward doing so. And despite her instinctive desire to withdraw into her own head or a book whenever one of the people she found easiest to talk to at the time asked her to hang out or do homework together, she had discovered that each time she said yes it got a little bit easier.

(Yes, she had still preferred books to most of her peers, but she no longer dreaded social interaction after that point, at least).

MJ stepped under the awning of a storefront and flipped her hood up over head to ward off the cold rain beginning to soak into her hair. Thunder broke overhead, loud enough to temporarily swallow the many smaller, lighter sounds of the city—the hushed rustle of water under car tires, the delicate patter of rain on concrete and glass, the bright rise and fall of conversations she passed as she walked. She pulled out her phone so she could try to send a quick text to Ned about some of the most important things she'd remembered so far, but it was already dead.

She didn't normally let it run down completely, but she'd been so intently focused on her own memories she hadn't even thought of charging it throughout the day like she should have. She thought for a moment and then decided it was best not to risk interrupting the flow of memories slamming into her right now by walking back to the house to get her charger. She would tell Ned as soon as she could, though.

MJ let out a deep breath, blinked away the glaze that seemed to creep over her vision anytime she paused for more than few minutes, and walked determinedly back out into the rain.

She settled back into her memories—mindful to always keep an optimistic eye out for Peter or even the telltale red and blue of his suit—as lightning streaked between the dewy skyscrapers on either side of her.

She remembered when Peter and Ned began including her in their conversations at lunch, at first just to get her thoughts on things like whether fondue is a sauce or a dip and then later to discuss more substantial topics, like their post-high-school plans or, in Michelle's case, what reasonable measures they could currently take to root out entrenched government corruption. She remembered feeling slightly out of place in the conversations at first, though she would never have admitted or shown that, but she had quickly realized that even though the pair of them were solid nerds, that really wasn't why they were relative loners in the high school scene or why she found them so approachable. They just seemed to move and live in a slightly removed bubble from most of their peers - and, for the most part, they seemed content doing so.

They genuinely cared to hear her opinion too—even when it was a lot stronger or more cynical than their own—and it made her feel heard in a way she wasn't used to but really couldn't bring herself to shy away from.

She even remembered the first time she realized that she would consider Peter and Ned friends—and that they might even consider her their friend as well. That became the final nail in the coffin of her third rule, at least. Friends weren't overrated—she just had to be willing to look for them in the right places. And while she still wasn't really sure why Peter and Ned bothered spending time with her even when the brutal honesty that characterized so many of her comments about the realities of life sometimes made them uncomfortable, she found that the lunch period she shared with them quickly became her favorite part of the day.

And then, of course, she also began to remember where Peter fit into bigger things that had happened in her life over the past few years.

Naturally, she thought as the chilly rain fell harder, things changed a lot after the Blip.

When she and her mom came back, everything was chaotic. No one seemed to know what was supposed to be happening, their apartment had been leased out to someone else, and her dad had apparently decided during the five years she had been dead that he really did care about what happened to her. It had all been such an overwhelming mess that she had been beyond glad when the paperwork had been sorted out and she was allowed to go back to school, even if she had to restart her junior year. She'd also been very relieved—somewhat selfishly, perhaps—to find that both Peter and Ned had been blipped as well.

It hadn't taken her long, however, to notice that something was…different about Peter in particular after that.

He was the same Peter Parker, of course. He still talked and acted pretty much like he had during their junior year before the Blip, particularly around Ned and MJ—and he still went out of his way to be kind and open and almost maddeningly polite to pretty much everyone he interacted with. But he also seemed more…guarded, in a way that MJ might have only recognized because she still carried bits of that defensiveness around herself.

The way he smiled had been a bit different too (his smile was one of the first things she had noticed about him), though MJ couldn't pin down exactly why she thought that. He had walked the halls slightly more solemnly, and when he wasn't nerding out over something he enjoyed or caught up in lighthearted banter with Ned or sometimes even with her, his eyes had a more distant look to them, like his thoughts were always trying to find their way back to something more pressing than what was around him.

MJ hadn't been entirely sure what to do with that at first because while he hadn't fundamentally changed, he simply seemed more hesitant to fully display the infectious energy she had been so struck by upon their first meeting. He seemed more like an adult—like he was beginning to understand and bend under the weight of carrying around knowledge and secrets he knew nobody around him would have the time, energy, or maybe even desire to hear him share.

And while part of MJ found his subtle shift in demeanor mildly disturbing if only because he'd been unknowingly teaching her so much about what it looked like to live a less guarded life, she also understood why he might choose to approach the world a little more warily than before. She'd been doing a lot of reflection and introspection since the Blip herself, and the now very visceral implications of the fact that any moment half the universe's population could just be gone were alarming to say the much as she liked to sardonically comment on humanity's obsession with ignoring the persistent whisper of memento mori, she was still human herself.

That's why MJ remembered that when she started noticing the gradual, growing shift in Peter's behavior towards her after the Blip—when their conversations, more frequent and sometimes even deeper than before by virtue of their circumstances, began to take on that peculiar edge of awkwardness Peter only ever seemed to don when he was trying not to be obvious about something and also knew he was failing spectacularly—

Well, MJ decided she wouldn't immediately shut it down or discount his developing feelings for her even though she really wasn't interested in a romantic relationship at all. She didn't trust herself with that kind of pressure and responsibility. She'd seen how emotions got way too messy way too fast in premature or ill-fitting relationships.

(And she'd never put much stock into the "opposites attract" adage—partly because it was just that, an adage, and partly because she had seen how her parents' marriage ended).

Cognitively, she knew that, given the right circumstances and a certain degree of honest introspection, she might have even had a crush on Peter too. Whether or not hers was anything more than admiration at just how bright and hopefulhe seemed in a place where very little was might have been another question entirely, and she had had enough going on at the time that she didn't spend very long trying to answer it.

As it turned out—MJ remembered with a jolt as she came upon a group of people huddled miserably in the rain, waiting to cross the street—she received the answer she wasn't looking for on their school trip to Europe.

MJ took a deep breath as she paused behind the waiting pedestrians, carefully summarizing all the details of that class trip in her head.

Her memories of that time hadn't sat well with her even before she started noticing how much Peter affected her by coming into the shop. She remembered having fun, but she never could remember very much about why it was that fun. She remembered being terrified and in danger, but despite knowing now that the Elemental illusions were behind those feelings, she couldn't remember exactly why she had been very close to or involved with them in the first place. She remembered Spiderman too, and the muted sense that she had been suspicious of him for some reason unrelated to his sudden appearance in Europe, but she had never been able to pinpoint exactly why.

But now that MJ remembered Peter had been Spiderman the whole time, his presence in Europe made sense. And the little memories coming back to her about the time she'd spent in Europe with him—her realization that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to encourage his crush a little bit and the way he kept looking at her like he was always marveling at what she did or said, and the way she couldn't help that her heart always sped up a little when she caught his eyes, for example— made her understand that trip a lot better than before.

And yet…MJ still didn't remember how she found out about Peter's alter ego. Obviously, it didn't happen the way he said it did yesterday, and though she remembered her suspicions regarding Peter had peaked and then steadily grown after Spiderman showed up in Europe at the same time their class was visiting, that was all she remembered.

MJ finished crossing the street and frowned. She walked several hundred feet along a new stretch of slick sidewalk without getting any closer to remembering anything else, which was unusual given just how many memories had returned to her unbidden since the beginning of her walk. The hint of a headache, unrelated to the front that brought the rain in, pressed in on her.

And then, when a streetlight flickered to life right as she passed under it—the greyness of the rainy afternoon having deepened to the point that it triggered the automatic lighting system—MJ looked up and saw something that made her remember exactly what she'd been hoping to remember.

It was one of Spiderman's webs, trailing off the top of the streetlight, wispy and wet and white in the rain and yet, she knew, also incredibly strong. MJ paused, face turned up into the rain as she looked at the web, frown deepening in concentration until—

She remembered.

She found out who Peter was on a bridge the last night of their school trip.

MJ knew why Peter wanted to take a walk with her before he even started talking.

Her heart pounded and her palms were sweating, but she wasn't sure if it was because she was nervous or excited or some sickening combination of the two.

Part of her didn't want to anything to do with the feeling at all. Romantic relationships weren't worth it even if friendships were—and especially not in high school—no matter how much she'd come to realize the extent of her own feelings regarding Peter Parker.

So, after Peter's attempt at defusing the awkwardness of their walk—which predictably and endearingly had the exact opposite effect—she said the first non-panicky thing that came to mind. Cool, salty water blew off the water as they strolled down the length of the bridge.

"You know, they used to execute people on this bridge? They would, like, lower a basket and drown in the water."

Peter let out a quiet little "oh."

She regretted bringing it up immediately, if only because Peter was obviously feeling so awkward himself and probably had even less of a clue what to say now. But maybe a reminder of the inherent morbid fascination that had led to her filing that fact away would make him reconsider what, exactly, he was thinking about her.

"Sorry."

Peter's quiet laugh and "it's okay" didn't do much to get rid of her anxiety, and when their hands bumped a moment later, she jerked away on instinct. He jerked away too, but she knew him well enough to understand that that didn't necessarily mean her comment had actually made him rethink admitting what she knew he was probably trying to admit.

(This was ridiculous. Why had she ever agreed to come out here? Why was she overthinking this so much?)

"There's this…thing I've been wanting to talk to you about…for a while," Peter said when they had walked a few more steps.

MJ's heartrate spiked, but she turned around and faced him as if it hadn't. Her mouth was dry.

"Yeah?"

Peter's face was so easy to read.

"It's our last night in Europe, and I had this plan I wanted to…tell you."

He shook his head sharply, as if frustrated with himself, and it was that fact alone that made MJ stop holding her breath. He really didn't know what he was doing either—and yet there he was, pushing through his nerves and awkwardness to tell her he liked her anyway.

MJ hadn't been brave enough to do even that much, and for what she knew to be a perfectly valid reason. Did he understand what getting close to someone could do to you under the right circumstances? Did he know the statistics surrounding high school relationships?

And yet—

"I'm just gonna…I'm just gonna talk…"

MJ kept her face impassive, and as she looked at Peter and thought about all the things she'd noticed about him, all the ways he stood out to from those around him, and all the ways he'd impacted people for the better without even knowing it—

She knew there was absolutely no way she was good enough for Peter Parker.

There was no way she could be or do whatever it is he thought he needed from her and there was no way she would ever be able to be the kind of positive influence in his life that he was in hers. It wouldn't be fair for her to even try. Panic swelled in her throat and, once again, she ended up saying the first thing that came to mind—anything to keep the current line of conversation from fully developing—and it had to do with a subject she'd been giving a lot of thought to lately.

(Or at least she had been giving it a lot of thought since the Elemental attack and the timely appearance of "Night Monkey" not long before. Before then, she'd mostly just been thinking about the biases of European historical narratives and how to deal with the fact that she couldn't not notice Peter anymore).

"MJ," Peter continued. "I—"

"Am Spiderman?"

"…what?"

The expression that washed across his face when she completed his sentence was a perfect mirror for everything MJ wasn't allowing her own face to show. Her stomach dropped, but, again, she maintained a neutral expression and shrugged halfheartedly.

"That's what you were gonna say. That you're Spiderman."

Peter denied it, of course, but MJ pressed him as if she had no doubts at all, tossing out all the evidence she'd been archiving for the day she proved without a reasonable doubt that Peter was or was not Spiderman. And though her theory then really was still about thirty-three percent doubt, Peter didn't seem to want to talk about crushes or feelings or relationships anymore.

That was…good.

She knew her reaction was probably dramatic and more than a little fueled by a mixture of traitorous hormones, a fair amount of cortisol from the past week, and her own deficient coping mechanisms, but…what if a relationship with Peter ended up where her mom and dad's high school sweetheart relationship had ended up? What if he realized just how different they were and decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her anymore? She'd only just learned how to be friends with him. She didn't want to ruin this.

(Not to mention that Peter's reaction to her claim that he was Spiderman was becoming more and more disconcerting because none of the excuses he was giving her made any sense-)

When Peter persisted in weakly rebuffing her final piece of soft evidence, she showed him the piece of tech she had salvaged from the Elemental attack, still sticky with webbing undeniably similar to the stuff Spiderman used. He came back with another quick but ultimately nonsensical answer, and MJ couldn't decide if she trusted or else doubted her theory more than ever when she saw how there was just as much conviction as there was fear in his expression. Her heartrate didn't slow down as she continued trading answers with him, and she knew she was being a little too aggressive…but she hadn't been ready for something like this.

And she really wasn't prepared for the moment Peter stopped trying to deny he was Spiderman and instead looked at whatever it was he had pulled from his pocket earlier, eyebrows furrowed. That new guardedness she had been catching glimpses of in him lately slipped into his voice as well.

MJ knew at that moment that she was being given a second chance to be honest with Peter. She could admit she had just lied and tell him she had not just been watching him because he was Spiderman (quite the opposite), or she could continue with the lie she'd already started.

She could choose to be safe by not getting unnecessarily involved with Peter any more than she already was.

(She knew which option would be easier).

She swallowed.

"Yeah," MJ lied. It would be better for both of them this way, right? He would find someone else to like—someone so much more deserving than herself.

"Why else would I be watching you?"

She thought, then, that she would never be able to forget the way he responded to that—the way all the nervous energy he'd had just a few minutes before collapsed into itself as if he had been expecting it to do so all along.

"It doesn't matter," he said, and the defeat in his voice ran, familiarly, deeper than just the sting of rejected feelings. "I just thought that maybe—"

And then the piece of tech MJ had been holding blinked and rattled. Her stomach flipped, and both she and Peter sprang backwards as a monstrous beige cloud sprouted from the piece—a bolt of blue lightning flashing soundlessly beside it—and swiped what looked like an arm across the bridge. It vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, and all thoughts about the emotional rollercoaster MJ had just been enduring were successfully obliterated as she turned her thoughts to this new development.

Peter walked cautiously to the piece and then bent down to retrieve it, one arm held straight out while his other arm and his legs were bent like he was ready at any moment to jump back again. MJ's heart began to slow from a persistent, loud hammer in her ears, and even though her hot rush of adrenaline was already receding, her mind raced to figure what had just happened.

Between the two of them and another glitch of the projector piece, they figured it out quickly.

(MJ couldn't entirely explain the sinking feeling in her gut when she and Peter realized that Mysterio wasn't who he'd said he was).

Moments after they figured out, however, and as MJ was still working through the tangled web of implications this revelation opened up, her dissipating panic coming back in full force, Peter wheeled around to face her.

His eyes were wide and he held himself stiffly, which she could understand, but…something told her he wasn't scared for the same reasons she was.

"I am Spiderman," he said, and for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Michelle's stomach rolled over. "And I really messed up."

She swallowed.

"Wait, you'r—you're being serious right now?"

Peter's sharp little nod would have been comical if she hadn't believed Peter was being entirely serious at the moment.

"Mhm."

And though Peter looked far different from whatever vague and insubstantial mental image she'd had of the man beneath Spiderman's cartoon-worthy mask (at least that part made sense now), MJ actually began to freak out a little bit because she believed him.

He was actually Spiderman.

(And, for the record, she'd basically figured that out on her own, but still).

She didn't even bother trying to filter her questions as they came then because for some reason MJ was less surprised by the fact that he was an actual vigilante superhero than she was fascinated by how it worked and how he did it. He was in high school, after all, and this was Peter.

It was only when he interrupted her and she saw how his earlier look of terror had hardened into something much more purposeful that she managed to reel her excitement back in and accept that what they'd just discovered about Mysterio was a lot more worthy of their focus at the moment.

But no way was she forgetting about this anytime soon.

~+~+~+~ 4:53 P.M. ~+~+~+~

MJ ducked out of the rain and into a cozy corner coffee shop, her head buzzing with more questions than anything.

She walked to the register and ordered the tallest, richest coffee they offered, seeing but not entirely registering the curious stares she drew as she did so. Her hoodie was supposed to be waterproof, but it was already soaked through, and she felt bad for the barista's sake that she was dripping all over the floor, but she had honestly believed the rain hadn't been forecasted to come in until later this evening. MJ was cold and shivering violently too—hence the coffee—but the more she thought about her nearly restored bank of memories regarding Peter Parker and compared them to the thin story he'd fed her and Ned, the more her stomach soured.

And yet, despite that feeling, as she got her coffee and gulped down as much as she could handle to raise her core temperature again, the memories that had returned to her didn't feel like they were entirely hers. She knew they were, of course, and she'd gone through her fair share of emotional whiplash thinking back on them over the past few hours.

But at the same time, she almost felt as if she were merely reading a book or following a plotline that affected her mind but that she knew somewhere deep inside wasn't actually real. It wasn't just that the Peter she'd come to know something about over the past few months was so far removed from the one in her memories either…it was more like she still hadn't remembered what she was really looking for when it came to Peter.

Obviously, the fact that her, Ned, and Peter had been friends and had spent so much time together even before she knew he was Spiderman greatly affected this entire situation, and MJ's head was spinning just trying to pin down all the implications of that.

In fact, she couldn't help but come back again and again to how Peter had very conspicuously lied about his relationship to them yesterday.

(She was beginning to suspect why he did so, too…but she really, really hoped she was wrong).

MJ swallowed some more coffee and reluctantly turned to head back out into the thunderstorm again. A blond man in a suit held the door open for her, and she slipped out into the rain again with a quiet, distracted "thanks" despite the vaguely concerned glance he threw in her direction. She still had no clue where she was going or even what part of the city she was in at this point, so she walked in something like a daze, half her mind busy dredging up memories as things she saw around the city partially uncovered them while the other half wrestled with all the questions those memories brought up.

What happened after she found out who Peter was?

(She began to remember more about that within the next few blocks—it involved a lot of fear and destruction of public property).

Had Ned known his best friend was Spiderman?

(Michelle tried not to dwell on that one too much even when she remembered the answer because unless Ned was remembering things like she was right now, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when they reunited. And it wasn't going to be enjoyable for either of them—if she were to guess, Ned had a lot more memories of Peter than she did, which in turn meant he'd lost a lot more too).

Speaking of which, that was one of her biggest questions—why did Peter end up erasing their memories anyway, if they were friends?

He'd said in the shop yesterday that he did it to keep the people he loved safe, but surely he wasn't talking about them. And even if he had been, erasing their memories and then lying about it didn't seem like something the Peter Parker she was getting to know all over again would do.

(Right?)

Plus, she'd never entirely believed Spiderman could do magic at all, like Peter had claimed. Was it possible that he had had no choice but to erase his friends' memories of him to keep them safe at some point in the recent past—perhaps due to something that happened when all those interdimensional beings showed up a few months ago, considering she hadn't "worked" with Spiderman since then?

A chill shot through MJ despite how quickly the coffee had warmed her up, and she stumbled over a slick aberration in the sidewalk. She narrowly avoided spilling scalding coffee over her hand.

What had happened involving her and Ned that had been so bad that it had driven and enabled them, in a way, to break an actual spell?

MJ stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, taking a deep breath against whatever it was growing in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the cold seeping into her clothes, the sting of warmth from the coffee cup in her hands. She thought of Peter's ragged clothes and tired eyes and the defensive stance he'd assumed when she and Ned confronted him about his identity.

No, the more important question, MJ thought, was what had happened to Peter?

When the drones fell, MJ knew she had to find Peter as soon as possible.

She knew firsthand how dangerous even one of those drones could be, and she'd watched enough of the footage of the massive fight going on between Spiderman and Mysterio's tech to know exactly where she could find him. She wasn't sure if he might still need help, but she was still so buoyed up on adrenaline that she didn't think twice before grabbing the ancient mace from the museum and heading out to the bridge.

She tried to discreetly tip Ned off as to where she was going, but she didn't give the guy who seemed to work for Peter a chance to even try to stop her. He had his hands full trying to calm Flash down anyway.

The bridge where the last leg of the fight had taken place was close.

She wasn't aware of just how terrified she was that Peter might have been seriously hurt or killed until she saw him there, alive but battered. Her composure—which had been only weakly held together by aforementioned adrenaline and an unthinking determination to find and talk to him before he had to swing off and pretend he was a normal high-schooler again—shattered. Because what would she have done if this dork had gone and gotten himself hurt?

He was limping hard across the smoking mess of rubble and totaled cars and crushed drones when he saw her running towards him. The look that lit up his bruised, bloodied face as he said her name held such raw surprise and pain that MJ couldn't stop herself from flinging the mace she'd brought to the side and hugging him like they'd known one another their entire lives.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly, feeling the way he trembled in her arms. His heart beat hard over her own.

"I'm okay, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

His breaths were short and sharp and his words were muffled against her shoulder, but MJ didn't let go. She couldn't. Not yet.

"Is everybody else okay?" he asked against her shoulder, and MJ reassured him as quickly as she could through her own empty lungs because of course the very first thing Peter Parker would do after what he'd just gone through would be to make sure everyone else in the world was alive and safe and comfortable.

"Yeah, everyone's okay."

The way he sighed and his shoulders fell when she said that made MJ's throat, impossibly, tighten even more. She thought somewhat irrationally as he leaned into her that if she were to stop hugging him, he might just fall over completely.

"What happened?" he asked.

MJ stumbled through an explanation of the drone attack. And even though she knew the answer before she even opened her mouth, when she finished, she asked him, "Was that you?"

"Yeah," he said wearily, and as her initial panic and fear and relief at seeing him alive but so exhausted drained away, she realized just how hard his fight must have been. The destruction she saw behind his back was devastating as she finally and somewhat reluctantly pulled out of possibly the longest hug she'd ever given anyone in her life.

"Did you get 'em?" she asked, softer this time.

And she had never seen his face look so dark and weary—like he had just learned he could carry a weight heavier than any he'd had to shoulder before. There was blood smudged under his nose and across his cheekbone.

"Yeah, he said, quieter even than she had asked her question but so so much more heavily.

"Well," MJ said helplessly because now she had the strangest urge to lean forward and brush aside on of the sweaty curls on his forehead. "I brought that."

She gestured at the discarded mace among the rubble.

"In case you needed some help."

She laughed nervously, and Peter weakly reciprocated it before he sucked in a sharp, pained breath and dropped his eyes to the ground. He was obviously in pain and time was draining away because news helicopters would probably be swarming this area in a few minutes, but…MJ thought of the other bridge she and Peter had been on not long before.

She thought of what he'd been about to tell her and how she'd shut him down.

She thought of the broken necklace he had been going to give her before they'd realized Mysterio's deception.

Her heart galloped forward suddenly, but MJ didn't give herself time to think about what she was about to do.

"Anyways, uh. There was this sweaty guy in the tower with us," she said, digging aggressively through her pocket. "I think he, like, works for you or something—"

Her fingers wrapped around the necklace she'd been given on Peter's behalf, and she delicately pulled it out of her pocket, broken piece and all.

"He, um, he gave me this."

She held it out in her palm, and Peter wrapped his own gloved hands around hers as soon as he saw what it was, pulling them closer to him with a hoarse, broken "noo."

MJ looked up at him, even the loud heartbeat in her ears fading into the background as her world in that moment narrowed to a single face and a single voice. But she wasn't really thinking much about the dahlia necklace or the fact that it was broken or even the way he was—in typical Peter Parker fashion—launching into a vaguely self-deprecating ramble about why it was broken.

Instead, she was thinking about what she'd realized since she shut him down on the bridge. She was thinking about his kindness and his irrepressible drive to help people even when he wasn't entirely sure what to do or say or how that person would respond. She was thinking about how he'd hung onto those things even through the loss he'd endured, through the Blip, and then through all the crazy things she'd heard (and probably hadn't heard) about what he faced when he went out as Spiderman day after day after day.

She was thinking about how even though the Peter standing before her now was hurt; had claimed earlier that it was his fault any of this happened; and would no doubt be changed, if only subtly, by the darkness and difficulties he'd so obviously just endured, he was someone she had chosen to come find without a thought for her own fear—and with a mace, of all things.

He was someone who was somehow so strong and yet so vulnerable at the same time. He was the superhero who took down an entire army of killer drones on his own and also the teenaged boy upset because the necklace he'd wanted to give the girl he liked had gotten broken/

MJ still wasn't sure she'd ever be able to master that kind of world-defying balance between strength and tenderheartedness, but he had wanted to choose to get to know her, and the least she could do was let him know that she wanted to choose him too. She wanted to be on his side through whatever came next, and though she knew it would come with its share of pain and challenges and uncertainties, she came to believe in that moment that Peter Parker was worth every bit of it.

And so, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

It was quick and awkward and she'd never kissed anyone before, so there was that, but…she didn't really care. Peter didn't seem to care either.

"And then you kissed me," he said, almost incredulously. The hint of a smile lit up the corners of his expression. "What?"

MJ took another deep breath. This time, she would tell the truth—even if it was a little bit oversimplified and sounded dramatic. It would be her first act of vulnerability after the kiss.

(Or something).

"I don't really have much luck when it comes to getting close to people—"

She made a face and looked down at her slightly shaky hands before forcing herself to meet Peter's eyes again. He still just looked surprised.

"So, I lied. I wasn't really watching you just because I thought you were…Spiderman."

The words were a little rushed and she couldn't help but rock slightly backwards on her heels as she admitted the truth to Peter, but he didn't respond as if he were angry she had lied or even hurt because she'd hurt him. He just looked…hopeful.

He smiled when she finished with an awkward shrug and smile of her own, even though it was slow to reach his eyes, like he couldn't quite believe what she was saying.

(And also like this might have been the wrong time to say all this—which was a very good possibility given that he was in pain and the bridge was still smoldering around them).

"That's…great," he breathed after a few moments.

MJ didn't have to scramble too much to know what to say next. The cool weight of the black dahlia rested in her palm.

She half-lifted it up.

"Black Dahlia," she said with an easier smile, tilted her chin up a little. Peter's eyes were a little brighter than before.

"Like the—"

"Murder," the said together, through another awkward laugh.

They were both such dorks.

(But was definitely keeping this necklace forever).

Peter looked down and rubbed at the mask between his fingers.

"Sorry it's broken," he said dismally.

But when MJ caught his eyes again, she unhesitatingly told him yet another truth.

"I actually like it better broken," she said, looking him straight in the eyes so that he could see she meant it one-hundred percent.

Because its brokenness would always be a reminder and an homage to this moment, wouldn't it? She and Peter were both figuring out whatever this was between them—this hesitant, clueless dance—as they went along and in different ways.

And maybe MJ would never entirely get rid of that cluelessness or the underlying fear that the people she loved and cared about might leave her or use her or hurt her like some had done in the past—but that didn't mean she couldn't love or care about people anyway. It didn't mean she had to shut everyone out completely to protect the spots of herself that had been cracked.

Even something that wasn't whole in all the ways it used to be to be could be whole in a different sense—she just had to learn what that looked like.

(And she would have to choose to practice it day after day after day until it became her new way of thinking and it would be hard, but...the boy in front of her was living proof that it was possible and could even be a beautiful thing anyway).

So, it wasn't the brokenness of the black dahlia that made it more beautiful to MJ—everything it meant in spite of its broken pieces did.

~+~+~+~ 5:32 P.M. ~+~+~+~

MJ stumbled into the mouth of a wide, open alley and sat down on the steps at the bottom of a steel fire escape.

Her mouth was dry—though the rest of her was soaked enough that she couldn't stop shivering and was probably an hour overdue to be back inside if she wanted to avoid getting sick—and her jaw and the back of her head ached like it always did went she spent too long concentrating too hard on a difficult problem. She reached up to her throat and shakily undid the clasp to the black dahlia necklace around her neck.

She pulled it off and stared at it, wet and cold and more familiar than ever cupped there in the palm of her hand.

She'd put the black dahlia necklace on every day since she'd gotten it, though since a few months ago she hadn't been able to remember where she'd gotten it. She had known it was important to her and that there was something deeply significant and maybe even melancholy about the little broken flower, but she had never thought to connect it with all the symptoms that started when Peter began showing up at the shop. She'd thought maybe it was something some long-lost family member gave her long ago.

But now…

MJ closed her fingers around the flower and stared out into the driving rain. Something warm and unpleasant uncurled in the pit of her stomach.

None of those memories answered her question as to what had happened to make Peter decide, in some form or fashion, that she needed to forget about him. If anything, they only deepened that mystery.

(They deepened the sense of betrayal settling into her bones-)

But she still didn't have the full story, MJ thought, and she was willing to give Peter the benefit of the doubt when it came to his decision just because she remembered who he was now. But as she clutched the black dahlia closer and took a deep breath, willing the last few bits of her memory to emerge from the fog they lay behind, the last bit of that story began pouring back into her head, swift, precise, full of emotions so much more intense than any she'd experienced in the process so far.

She began to remember what had happened to Peter—what had happened to her and Ned.

She remembered his identity being revealed to the world by Mysterio and the chaotic panic that ensued as he desperately tried to swing them both away from what they both knew they wouldn't be able to outrun.

(But she also remembered how in the weeks that followed he tried so hard to see the bright side of even that—of how he so often was the one cheering her up throughout the lengthy legal process that followed and through the endless press and publicity all three of them received wherever they went. She remembered how hard he tried to continue being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman he had always been, even though the streets were filled with people just as likely to spit and curse at him as they were to cheer him on).

She remembered how Peter tried to fix things when she and Ned opened their college rejection letters alongside him—how he said he'd gone to Dr. Strange to cast a spell that would make the world at large forget Peter Parker was Spiderman.

(And she also recalled the way he'd responded when she said that, next time—instead of releasing Spiderman's interdimensional enemies—he could just come to his friends and run his plan by them. He had looked so surprised at the thought that he had people in his corner, people he could bring into both sides of his life because they wanted to be there).

She remembered her and Ned helping him capture the interdimensional bad guys and then, after realizing that Dr. Strange wanted to send them back to their own dimension and the deaths that awaited them there, how Peter had stolen the magic relic that would do so because he wanted to try something else: he wanted to save the bad guys.

(He had seemed so scared and uncertain when he trapped Dr. Strange in his own dimension, but he had come directly to his friends, willing to do whatever it took—with their help—to help the bad guys and save as many lives as possible).

And then—

MJ stood up sharply as the fog over her memories grew thinner and revealed what might have been the worst thing she'd remembered yet. Tears stung the back of her eyes.

His aunt May had been killed at the hands of one of the people he was trying to save-

And Peter was alone.

He had been alone ever since Ned and MJ forgot him.

(And he had been fading right in front of her—as Spiderman and Peter Parker because were the two really that separate?)

MJ didn't waste any more time sitting and consciously pulling old memories to the surface of her mind after that. She thought about all the ways she'd seen Peter deteriorate and Spiderman become more reckless over the past few months, and as she gathered her bearings in the city she'd been somewhat foolishly been wandering around in for so long, she also remembered the other two Peters Ned pulled from the portals he created.

She and Ned had had to seek a hurting Peter out then, too, because he was breaking and uncertain and he needed more than anything to not be alone—to be reminded of who he was in a time when his world was fracturing too quickly for him to even begin trying to patch it up.

Just like she had then, MJ knew the first and best place she could go to possibly find Peter—on the roof of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

Maybe it was a long shot, but MJ also realized it was the only shot she had at the moment. Something in her gut—or maybe the universe itself—told her and had been telling her that Peter was on the brink of wholly surrendering to the very thing that had been consuming him from the inside out.

And though she knew that as she walked the rest of her memories explaining why Peter had chosen to erase their memories would undoubtedly come back, she also knew now that she didn't need them to understand what lay at the heart of everything she'd already been able to recall about the recent past—including his response to Aunt May's death.

She had seen it in his eyes the first time he stepped into the shop after she'd forgotten him.

(She had seen it many times in her own eyes in the mirror).

She had seen it grow in him throughout high school and especially after the Blip, though at the time she hadn't recognized it for what it was.

(She had seen it grow in herself before then—before he began unwittingly teaching her to defy it for the sake of something better).

She had seen that Peter Parker was afraid.

And though MJ was too—now for his sake more than anything else—she wasn't going to let that fear take him away from the people who cared about him without a fight.

Not anymore.

A/N: "And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." ~1 John 4:16-18

So basically I tried to give MJ an entire character arc in like 2 chapters and her "I'm not good enough" attitude has some problems and we both need to chill out on Angst + Retrospective Introspection AND COFFEE IS COOL MY DUDES. Please join us next week for...*drum roll please*...what Ned's been up to + puppies + A Surprise (AKA I'm honestly very glad to be out of MJ's head for a while not going to lie xD)

Hope you're enjoying - and thanks for reading! :)