daretodo | [Osborn Plot] Sleep sound, shut out the noise you hear.

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[Osborn Plot] Sleep sound, shut out the noise you hear.

There is no concept of time. Seconds, minutes, hours -- all meaningless. (Am I dead?) I'm aware only of pain, white and hot, searing mercilessly through every inch of my body. (Make it stop.) At first the sounds are indistinct -- snippets of hushed conversations, the shuffle of footsteps across the floor, the quiet, unsteady sobs of someone crying. Through the pain, infinite stretches on. (Please, make it stop.) The sounds become sharper -- the scrape of a chair, the catch in a woman's voice, my name on someone's lips. (Shouldn't hurt so much, why does it hurt so much? My God, make it stop.)

The black of the void turns to red. (I'm waking up -- not dead, then. Why?) There's a hand on my own, the pressure, however slight, almost too much to bear. (Don't want to wake up. Let go, let go, let go.) I try to speak, but find I can't. My voice dies in my throat. (Can I die, too?) I can't open my eyes, can't move at all -- I'm bound, constricted. (Listen to yourself.) I need to move. (You need to live, you lucky fool.) Reality comes back to me in dribs and drabs, memories sliding into place like the pieces of a puzzle -- a fall, a fight, a fire. (No, don't want to remember. Don't make me remember. Hurts too much, hurts too much.) My pulse takes a sudden jump, leftover panic pumping adrenaline through my veins, and soon -- at least, I think it's soon, because I still can't tell, there's still no time -- there's more than pain. There's control. (You promised, Peter. You promised her.) With a shallow, shuddering breath that burns my lungs, my eyes flutter open, and I take in my dim, fuzzy surroundings without comprehension. (That's it, push through the pain.)

"Wh--?" It's not speech in the strictest sense, little more than an exhale. (Try again.) Hours, minutes, seconds later. "Where...?"

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"No," Mary Jane assured him, serious despite the fact that she wasn't sure the question would have been under any other circumstances. Now, there was no room for joking around, no time to waste when they had a few moments' privacy. "Not even close, actually, just, I -"

She cut herself off and swallowed, unsure how to even say this. For all she knew, she had made the worst judgment call of her life, and while she didn't really want to know if he thought she'd made a mistake, she couldn't keep second-guessing herself over it, either. She needed to get this over with, to hear, hopefully, that she hadn't ruined anything.

"When we got back, I was the only one of us in any state to talk to people," she continued, exhaling heavily. Reluctantly easing back, she took a seat again, instinctively about to reach for his hand but stopping just short of it, unsure if he'd want her to after he had tried to pull away before, or if it would be a good idea with what she was about to tell him. "I gave the statement to the IPD, and you were already unconscious, so I couldn't figure things out with you beforehand, and I had to think really fast..."

Closing her eyes a moment, she tipped her head back. "I told them that the man's name was Alton Hartford, that apparently he just snapped, and it was a random attack. You were just trying to save your girlfriend. I didn't think anyone should know that you knew each other back home, or that we'd known who he was for months. It seemed like the only thing to do, and... I just need to know if I really screwed things up or not."

Edited 2010-01-11 05:17 (UTC)

It takes me longer than it should to parse what she's saying, my head too muddled from everything that's happened to make the necessary connections with any sort of haste. Not helping matters is that she's upset, and it's hard to pay attention to her words when I'm preoccupied by her body language, her posture and the way she hesitates when she reaches out for my hand. I want to tell her it's okay, that I was disoriented before, but I understand the need for her to get this out without interruption, and I stay silent until the very end.

I take another shuddering, shallow breath, afraid that anything deeper will spur on a coughing fit in addition to everything else. The longer I'm awake, the more I'm conscious of the individual injuries as opposed to the overall pain -- broken ribs, broken fingers, broken nose, dislocated shoulder, broken leg, burns, cuts, bruises, and probably a concussion to boot if my head's anything to go by. It's nothing I haven't had before, but that's a small comfort in a situation like this.

"So you lied. To the police." It doesn't sit well with me, that she's made us all complicit in a madman's lie, but then I realize the alternative could be so much worse, that I could be handed the blame for not telling the authorities something they wouldn't have believed in the first place. Clones are commonplace, after all, and Tabula Rasa does, occasionally, try to live up to its name.

I fix her with a surprisingly steady stare. "It's... not ideal," I add after a beat, which is something of an understatement. This whole mess with Osborn is about as far from ideal as it's possible to get, and if I've learned anything from my dealings with him in the past, death is not the end of him. "But... But it's okay. It'll be okay. You did fine."

He phrased it like that -- you lied to the police -- and even having said so herself, Mary Jane couldn't help feeling vaguely ashamed. It sounded so much more dishonest that way, but then, there wasn't really any way around that. Even with the best of intentions, she had told a lie, and to the authorities, no less, so they wouldn't look bad. Neither of them could have stopped Norman, but they had still known, and especially when a woman had died, she didn't think that information would have been well-received.

"I wanted to protect you," she admitted, eyes shut and head lowered, only aware of the ridiculousness of a statement like that after it had left her mouth. In lieu of a laugh, she exhaled heavily, a bad taste left in her mouth by the whole situation despite her relief at his not being too upset. She just had to keep reminding herself that it was his -- their -- best interest she'd had in mind. "Talk about stupid, right?"

Of the two of them, she was undoubtedly the one who really needed protecting. She'd proven that two days ago, and now he was going to be laid up in a clinic bed for God knew how long because of it. The very thought of that brought on a fresh wave of guilt, and though she'd opened her eyes again, she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him. Maybe he would have gotten involved either way, but she couldn't help feeling responsible for what had happened to him, and even more so for that poor woman's death.

"Sorry to rain on your parade, MJ, but I'm gonna have to pass on your personal pity party," I sigh, letting my eyes slide shut. It's harsh -- and, it occurs it to me, strangely alliterative -- but I have a feeling it's something that needs to be said sooner rather than later. I don't blame her for what she did, not in the least, and she needs to understand that, if nothing else.

Blame for this falls squarely on two men's shoulders, and one of them's already dead.

Biting down on her lower lip, Mary Jane winced, still not looking at him to give herself any idea of whether he saw or not. She was too tired to really care, anyway, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk fighting with him when he was so hurt, when she'd spent two whole days half-expecting him to never wake up. A whole lot of responses came immediately to mind, but she ignored them all, figuring it would be best for them both if she focused on how grateful she was that he was awake now.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked after a long moment, tentatively glancing in his direction when she trusted herself to be a little more composed. She ought to have asked sooner, she realized that in retrospect, but she supposed she hadn't really had the opportunity to, either. "Water, some kind of painkiller maybe? I could go get a doctor if you want to talk to one of them."

"M'sorry," I murmur, all but ignoring her question. Painkillers and doctors -- not two of my favorite things in the multiverse, that's for sure, especially as I've somehow got a feeling that my days of downing a bottle of Tylenol and calling it good enough are behind me. "I just... I love you so much, and I can't-- Seeing you so..."

My breath catches in my throat, tears slipping free from under closed eyes to roll down my face. "You can't blame yourself, alright? 'Cause I swear to God, Mary Jane, that that hurts more than... Than all of this... Just please. Don't."

"Jesus, Peter," Mary Jane exhaled, fixing her gaze on the ceiling for a few seconds in the hopes that it would keep her from getting all worked up again, but it was useless. Already she'd been just barely holding herself together, and she was so, so tired; between the relief and the worry and the absolutely overwhelming guilt she still felt, she just didn't have the energy to stay the strong one.

Only dimly aware of the fact that she'd begun to cry again, breaths coming short and ragged, though she managed to hold back any sobs, she looked at him wordlessly for what at least felt like a long time. There were too many things she wanted to say to him, none of which she thought she could. He didn't need to hear just how much she blamed herself, not when he was talking like that, but she couldn't lie to him and say that she didn't, either. At a loss, she gripped the edge of the bed, close to his hand but still not quite touching it. She'd screwed up enough already to not want to risk making it worse, and she wasn't sure she could handle his pulling away from her again.

"I love you, too," she murmured, the first true, coherent thing that came to mind, even as it dawned on her that the last time she'd told him she loved him, she had also been telling him to let her die. Dwelling on that now really wasn't going to help matters any. "And I promise you, this is all going to be okay, so please try not to -" Regardless of what she was asking of him, it was too late for her to stop crying, and though she closed her eyes, she made no effort to hide it. There was just no point.

Edited 2010-01-11 22:27 (UTC)

Sensing her hand more than seeing it, I cover it with my own, fingers curling around hers with surprising strength. It hurts -- everything hurts -- but the comfort gained is easily worth it. My eyes still closed, I take in another shaky breath in an attempt to calm myself down. It's hard enough to breathe as is, and there's no point in making things worse with a stupid crying spell, much as it's probably justified.

Surprised at the contact, Mary Jane stared at their hands through glassy eyes for a few seconds before she shifted hers just enough to be able to lace her fingers through his. She was too desperate not to hold on and too worried to put any more pressure on his hand, even the unbroken one, but she settled on a middle ground quickly. With all his injuries, she was pretty sure this was just about the only contact she was going to get with him for a good long while, and she wanted to savor that, not spend each moment second-guessing herself with him.

"Peter," she murmured, tears not slowing, not yet. She should have been pulling herself together, making more of an effort to be the strong one like she had been for days now, but it just wasn't happening yet. With an exhale that might've been a laugh, had she not been crying, she shook her head, looking back over at him again. "God, what I wouldn't give to be able to lie beside you right now."

Swallowing thickly, I manage the smallest of smiles in spite of everything, the corners of my mouth edging upwards. Then again, they do say it takes less muscles to smile than it does to frown, so maybe it's for the best -- like I said, there's power in positive thinking.

"What's stopping you?" I ask quietly, cracking open one eye to look at her. "I'm not a big guy, MJ. Should be plenty of room."

This time, there was no denying that Mary Jane laughed, though there wasn't anything particularly amused about it. She ought to have expected as much from him, she knew, but tempting as it was to listen to him and try, her own needs didn't matter half as much as his at a time like this. Not being able to touch him like she wanted to was something that was going to take a hell of a lot of getting used to, but it wouldn't have been worth the risk to do otherwise.

"You have four broken ribs," she pointed out quietly, her voice remarkably steady, all things considered, "two broken fingers and a broken leg, a shoulder you dislocated..." There was more, of course, but she didn't doubt he knew that, and she wouldn't have felt right just listing off all his various injuries. "I could hurt you. No, I would hurt you, and then they probably wouldn't let me keep staying here. They'd kick me out, and then what would you do with yourself?"

As far as attempts at levity went, this one failed miserably, but it was something, at least, especially given that she hadn't yet managed to fully stop crying. With months of this ahead of them, though, it would do her no good to let it upset her in front of him.

"Um, I kinda hate to be the one to point this out, but..." I whisper, trying to keep my voice as steady as hers, and fortunately I have plenty of experience in the art of sounding collected under pressure. This isn't exactly the same, of course, but this much pain, I'd argue, qualifies as a type of pressure, if nothing else.

"I already am hurt. S'gonna take a lot more than a beautiful girl lying next to me to make things worse." I hesitate a beat, then add, "Might make for an improvement, actually."

Edited 2010-01-13 06:11 (UTC)

"It would be very, very easy for me to make it worse, Peter," Mary Jane said quietly, frowning. He was right in that it wouldn't likely have done much damage, but the thought of her doing anything that might exacerbate the pain he was already in made her stomach turn a little. Her free hand settling loosely over his wrist, fingers still intertwined with his, she sighed. "If I moved the wrong way, or say I accidentally hit just the wrong spot... We're just going to have to get used to this."

Edited 2010-01-13 06:31 (UTC)

"Mary Jane," I sigh, looking at her plaintively with wide eyes, "we've both just gone through absolute hell. And... Yeah, it hurts. I hurt, 'cause of that -- admittedly abridged -- list of injuries you just spouted off like a regular med student, right after you gave me an estimated departure from this place of never."

I swallow again, stalling for time as I try to stop my head from spinning long enough to get out the rest of what I want to say before I pass out again.

"Honestly," I continue after a second, quieter than before, "the only thing that could possibly make this worse is having to get used to this. I just... Please. My mental state's about as messed up as the rest of me, MJ, and unlike a few broken bones, that's something I don't need an army of bored doctors to fix. Just you."

Edited 2010-01-13 06:52 (UTC)

Mary Jane held his gaze for a long moment, visibly tentative despite already knowing what her answer was going to be. Regardless of all her worries about somehow hurting him, she couldn't deny him when he put it like that, not when she felt the same way. She may have come out of all of this virtually uninjured, but inside, she was a wreck and was getting worse at hiding it. Being beside him for a little while, no matter how careful she had to be, was bound to do her good, too.

"Well, you've got me," she murmured, biting her lower lip as she stood, sitting instead on the edge of the bed. She still wasn't quite sure how she could go about doing this without causing any more damage, but it seemed worth it to try. "Just - we've got to be careful, alright? And if anything feels worse at all, you need to tell me right away." That said, she began easing down at his side, eyes on him all the while to make sure she didn't do anything wrong. "I'm right here."

Edited 2010-01-14 01:01 (UTC)

I've never been in this position before. Which isn't to say I was invulnerable back home -- far from it -- but I've never been the breakable one, contrary to the popular belief about Peter Parker, klutz extraordinaire. Aunt May used to treat me like I was made from spun glass, sure, but it was never actually warranted, much as she thought it was -- even after she learned the truth.

Now, though, Mary Jane has more of a point than I'd like to admit, and I hold my breath as she settles down next to me, exhaling only once she's stopped moving. She can't hurt me any more than Norman, of course, but I keep that to myself, instead just saying, "Hey."

"Hey," Mary Jane murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was still beyond cautious, taking up about as little room on the side of his bed as she could, but she had to admit that she was glad she'd given in. No matter how much more it made her worry to be this close to him -- or how much it made her want to hold him to her and never let go, something that was definitely impossible, and would be for a damn long time -- the comfort it provided outweighed that by far.

Of course, being in bed, she was reminded of just how long it had been since she'd slept, or even laid down at all, the closest being the time she had spent unconscious in a web on the beach of the second island. The memory made any hint of a smile fade, though she hoped it wasn't particularly noticeable. It wasn't anything she wanted to talk about, not yet. "You're sure this is okay, right?"

"Yes," I sigh, and it's exasperated for all that it's fond. I can't exactly wrap my arms around her like I'd like, but it's better than just holding her hand. She's more tangible this way -- a stronger tether to the here and now, and one I desperately need. Beyond the pain and the nausea, my head's a jumble of memories -- bits of shouted conversation, the roar of wind, the look on that woman's face right before she fell, Norman's maniacal grin... (Focus.)

"So," Mary Jane said quietly, sniffling a little. Any other time, she would have been more than content just to lie there with him, but having not slept in so long and now being so relieved, she didn't trust herself not to drift off if they felt silent. Besides, it had been two days, and though he had physically been right there, she'd missed him. She just wished she could have been closer, or that she could think of something that wasn't the events of two days earlier. Most if not all of that wasn't anything she wanted to talk about now, as much as she knew they would probably need to sooner or later. "I'd ask how you're doing, but... I think I have a pretty good idea."

"...when's the last time you slept?" I ask after a moment's hesitation, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head's more trouble than it's worth, and I'm confident that so much as a wince from me will send her back into that chair faster than Doctor Strange losing a hand of poker.

Mary Jane ought to have known the question was coming, really, but she was caught a little off-guard all the same, faltering as she tried to come up with a good response. He didn't need to know that she had spent two whole days sitting by his bed, waiting for some sign that he was going to make it through this. "Don't worry about me," she said with a shrug, dismissive but a little grateful all the same. "I'm fine."

She was not, in fact, anywhere close to fine, but she was relatively uninjured and didn't see any reason to sleep just yet, so it was true enough. Beside him now, she didn't want to be anywhere else, and sleeping in his bed would have just been asking for her to somehow hurt him.

"Mary Jane..." I start, the warning clear in my voice for all that I'm still speaking barely above a whisper. I reach blindly for her hand, placing mine on top of hers. "You need to sleep."

"I need to be here with you, is what I need," she countered, her own voice not much louder than his. Her body may have required sleep, but what she needed was completely different, and she was a whole lot more inclined to follow those instincts now. Any other reasons she had for not wanting to go to sleep weren't anything she thought he needed to know about. "I can sleep later."

"Didn't say you had to go anywhere," I point out, giving her hand a small squeeze. I've been under for two days, but it feels like I've already been awake for so much longer than just a few minutes, and it's already a struggle to keep my own eyes open, the pain I'm in still too draining. "Just that you should close your eyes."

Biting her lip through a frown, Mary Jane sighed, hesitating just a moment before she shook her head. It was tempting -- so unbelievably tempting, more than she could have even told him -- but there was a big difference between lying beside him now while she was conscious and letting herself fall asleep there. "It's a small bed, Pete," she said, rueful but insistent. "I could move and hurt you and... I can't risk that."

"And? Neither one of us is a sumo wrestler," I reply, wanting all the world to be able to just kiss her forehead, to hold her in my arms until she gets some rest. "I'm tougher than I look, and you're more tired than you're letting on. Stay. Sleep. For me."

"Not fair," she protested, meaning to make a face but only managing to look sullen in the process. It had to have been pretty damn clear that she would have done anything for him at this point, and sleeping, especially when she was so tired already, was an easy thing to give. "You'll be okay? You don't need me to get you anything?"

"If I need anything, you'll be the first to know," I assure her, one corner of my mouth hinting upwards in something that, under better circumstances, might've passed for a smirk. "Get some rest."

"Wake me up if I hurt you," Mary Jane replied, looking at him with wide eyes as she shifted very, very carefully, not wanting to even move the bed too much. "Or if I can do anything for you. I -" Cutting herself off, she yawned, suddenly relieved she'd agreed to this. "Would rather be here for you than sleep."

She yawns, and I follow shortly after. "You are here," I mumble, closing my eyes, and it's not much longer until I'm asleep once again.

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[Osborn Plot] Sleep sound, shut out the noise you hear.

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