I rise from the grave to stomp the hearts of Spider-Man fans the world over! Finished this game yesterday and... yeah... yyyyyeah.

SPOILERS FOR END OF GAME. Big big spoilers.

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The drone of the monitor's flatline alert, the only sound but for his own sobbing, drilled into his heart and mind and lodged there. May was gone. Her hand was still warm between his, felt even through his suit, but she was gone. Her kindness, her compassion, her smile, her laugh. Her generous and loving heart, the heart that had known who he was and kept quiet, just to spare him any extra burden. All of it. Gone.

It couldn't be real. It wasn't fair. But life wasn't fair, certainly not for Peter Parker. The last few weeks had proven nothing if not that.

A footstep tapped the floor, jarring him from his pain. Someone was coming back. Peter dragged himself up, still unable to get a decent breath past his tears. Where was his mask? He'd dropped it. There, next to one of the bed's wheels. His hand was still shaking when he grabbed it, fumbled to get it into place to put it back on. Couldn't let anyone see, couldn't let them know—

"It's me." MJ's voice, choked even in such a soft whisper. A few more steps and her hands landed on his shoulders. "It's just me."

"MJ..." He swallowed to try and get strength back in his voice, allowed himself to lean into her support, just for a moment. Then he dragged a breath in, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder and in the still-tender wound in his side, and he pulled his mask back on. "We need to get Dr. Michaels the antiserum. The sooner he starts analyzing it, the sooner everyone in the city gets the cure." And if his voice broke on 'everyone', MJ didn't show signs that she noticed.

"He'll be back in to grab it right away." She stepped back as he got to his feet, but then she was right back at his side. One hand touched just under the hole in his shoulder, her eyes dropping from his to look at the blood on his suit. "He'll take care of it, and Miles can help. You need..." She choked, stopped, and he tried not to see her eyes drift to the side, toward the bed, before she looked back at him. "You need that looked after. Come on." Her fingers moved to tug on his arm, gentle but immovable, as always. "I'll patch you up at my place."

And after forcing himself through everything that had happened since the Demons had first made themselves known, Peter just didn't have anything left in him to resist when she pulled him into leaning on her for support and led him out of May's office.

—

MJ cleaned and dressed his wound in silence, checking on the injury Dr. Michaels had treated as she did so. He cleaned up and changed into the clothes he'd left in her apartment a lifetime ago. Then he sat on her couch, leaning back with a thousand different aches in his body and heart.

What could he have done differently? Asked MJ for help sooner, made getting the cure for Devil's Breath the priority? Then the people who'd been put in danger by Scorpion, Rhino, Electro, and Vulture could have died. Tried harder to reason with Martin and Otto? He'd done everything, said everything, he could think of. They hadn't listened. Ignored the Sable agents who'd attacked him at the research facility, chased after Martin and Norman right away? They'd have pursued him and become an even bigger problem inside the building.

No matter what he analyzed, how many times he ran and re-ran the scenario in his head, he couldn't find a specific decision he could have changed, to change the outcome. No. As usual, it came down to just not being good enough. He'd gotten them all, brought them to justice, finished everything he'd set out to do. But just...

"Why wasn't I faster, MJ?" The question came out as a little moan, his eyes still half-lidded and watching the ceiling. He heard the thump as her first-aid kit finished its trip into the cupboard.

"Pete..." Her voice from behind him. Footsteps, and her weight sank onto the couch beside him. She rested her hand on his thigh. "You did everything you could. So many people are going to live, to be cured, because of you."

He put in enough effort to lift his head from the back of the couch so he could meet her eyes. "But not May."

The way she flinched at the words broke his heart all over again, but she moved to take his hand in both of hers, just as he'd taken May's as she passed. "I know. And... and I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry she's gone, that we lost her, but... but you did your best. The whole city was on the brink, and you brought it back." She squeezed his hand, leaned closer so he couldn't avoid her gaze even if he wanted to. "You brought it back, Pete. It wasn't you that put all those people in danger, but you saved them."

He found a smile for her. "Yeah, I did. And Otto..." The smile vanished, his jaw clenching against his will. He looked away from her, wanting none of the anger to even give the impression of being aimed at her. "I wish I knew what made him do it. Why he couldn't... why he couldn't tell me... let me help..."

Gently, slowly, he pulled his hand from hers, leaned over to press his face into his palms. "Why didn't he just talk to me..."

MJ moved impossibly closer to him, their legs touching from knee to hip. She said nothing, just wrapped her arms around his torso, mindful of his injuries, and pulled him close. For however long it took for his body to stop shaking, his tears to stop falling, she held him.