Memories of Home

xxii. reunions // realities

Peter could have spent forever tangled in MJ's limbs. He would have been happy to remain transfixed by the way her lithe body curled inwards towards his, shifting against his chest as a sigh of contentment escaped her lips for forever.. His fingers automatically curled through her hair, his lips pressing against the crown of her head frequently, and it still wasn't enough.

The simple fact of the matter, however, was that they did not have forever.

As much as Peter had enjoyed watching MJ make all those little movements that he remembered...all the little signs that she was happy, and comfortable - he hadn't stopped keeping a pulse on the shifts of those beautiful eyes. Hoping they wouldn't turn violet.

Her eyes would be the only sign of Dahlia making her appearance before they were all mincemeat on the floor. It was crazy to him that the woman who was laughing and gasping with him could just as easily turn back to a deadly force that would take him out in an instant..

But no one knew what was going on under her bloodstream, not really.

Even him...he might have made himself quite familiar with the curves of her body, but the beautiful and dangerous power that laid beneath her bones remained privy only to her.

As much as it awed him, he didn't want to chance it. Not after he just got her back. He needed to get her back to the lab, find Ned, and give her the final antidote once and for all.

His hand brushed her cheek, as he gave her a soft smile.

"How about we go see an old friend of ours?" He murmured.

Her eyes lit up again then in joy.

  Ned.

"Ned knows too?! .....Wait...Ned knew before me?!" She feigned hurt at Peter ruffled her hair.

"Course MJ, he's my guy in the chair. Probably would've been a wreck before I got to you without him."

She just smiled knowingly.

"Who cried more at the reunion, me or Ned?"

He gave her a playful look.

"Hey - that's not really fair. Me and Ned are very sensitive souls..."

She just giggled. Then caught herself. The fact that she was giggling when just a few days ago she was a murderous assassin working for Fisk...the reality of it had the sound dying in her throat.

...Did she even deserve to laugh?

Could she go back to life as the three of them... if she was the one who wasn't the same anymore?

Peter's gaze softened, as if reading her mind.

"Hey. Look at me. We got each other no matter what. He's going to be so excited to see you, MJ. He's been so worried about you the past few weeks."

She swallowed.

"He should have been."

Intense pressure contracted around her rib cage. Her breaths became shallow.

Peter all of a sudden moved to sit her up, pulling her against his chest, raising her arms above his head as he stretched her towards him. To get the breath in her lungs. To banish the thoughts. To do whatever he could.

"Feel my chest. Feel the way it's rising. Feel the way it's falling. Do it with me." He murmured against her ear.

He knew this feeling. He knew the panic all too well.

But she couldn't get a full breath. At least...not at first. She tried to focus on the movement of his chest as it rose underneath her.

Breathe in.....