The Amazing Spider-Man of Young Justice (Season 1)

YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME

Queen's Hospital; 19:20 EDT (couple hours later)

Peter sat silently beside MJ's hospital bed, his heart heavy as he stared at her frail, injured form. She was hooked up to various machines—the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoing through the room, an oxygen mask covering her face to help her breathe. Her head was heavily bandaged.. One arm was in a cast, immobilized and elevated to reduce swelling, while her left leg was covered in bruises and strapped into a brace. An IV drip was attached to her hand, administering fluids and pain medication. The room felt sterile and quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery keeping her stable.

On the nearby couch, Aunt May sat with MJ's aunt, holding her as she wept quietly. May's face was lined with concern, but she was trying her best to be strong, whispering reassurances to MJ's aunt, even though she herself was struggling to hold it together.

The door creaked open, and a doctor walked in, his expression professional but sympathetic. MJ's aunt, her voice trembling, asked, "How is she, doctor? Is... is she going to be okay?"

The doctor gave a measured sigh, looking between them before responding. "She's stable now, but it was close. She sustained significant head trauma, which caused a concussion, and there's a hairline fracture in her skull. The arm was broken in two places, and she suffered a contusion to her left leg. We've immobilized her arm and leg to prevent further damage, and she'll need surgery to repair the fractures, but thankfully, there's no internal bleeding, and her vital signs are strong. She's still unconscious due to the severity of the concussion, but with proper care and time, she should make a full recovery."

MJ's aunt began sobbing harder, collapsing into Aunt May's arms. May held her tight, murmuring comforting words as she gently stroked her back. Peter watched them both, feeling an overwhelming mix of guilt and anger churn inside him, bubbling under the surface.

The doctor added, "We'll monitor her closely for the next 24 hours. Once she's stable, we'll prepare for surgery. But rest assured, she's going to pull through."

Peter clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He could feel the familiar, dark pulse of the symbiote feeding off his anger, amplifying it, telling him it was his fault. His chest tightened as he fought the urge to storm out of the hospital right then and hunt down Shocker, wherever he was hiding.

Suddenly, through the haze of his rage, Peter spotted a figure standing outside the hospital room. 

Zatanna?

She was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a quiet, concerned expression.

He stood up slowly, casting one last look at MJ before stepping out of the room. The hallway felt colder, the tension in the air pressing against him. He walked up to Zatanna, his voice quieter than usual but still edged with a sharpness. "What are you doing here?"

Zatanna straightened, meeting his eyes with sincerity. "I heard what happened, Peter. I came to check on you. I was worried. Everyone else wanted you to sorta... have some distance, but I feel like that's the last thing you need right now."

Peter's shoulders stiffened, and he let out a slow breath. "You didn't need to. I've got it handled."

"I know you do, but that doesn't mean you have to go through this alone," Zatanna said gently, her voice calm. "You're dealing with a lot—MJ's hurt, you feel responsible... it's okay to ask for help."

Peter felt a small flicker of something inside him at her words. Zatanna had always been different from his other teammates. He couldn't tell why, she just... was.

But his expression hardened. "Help? How is any of this going to help, Zatanna? MJ's lying in there because of me. You think saying nice words is gonna fix that?"