Spideychelle one-shots

After: Part Seven

Her body, however, was already experiencing far too much pain to resist the siren call of sleep for even one second, let alone when she was being drugged. She could feel her consciousness slipping away, and time for only one last, desperate thought before the drugs dragged her under:

Please, Peter. 

Please save me. One more time. 

Peter

It had taken him far too long to find the opening, a dark, shadowy hole in the ground that dripped mud and sharp rocks. 

Honestly, Peter had expected something slightly more high-tech. He wasn't complaining, though - there were no locks to pick after all, no security system as far as he could tell. 

The entrance had been covered in brambles and large rocks, hidden in a small copse of trees a good kilometre from MJ's coordinates. Peter anticipated a long slog through a small, muddy tunnel full of, as he'd mentioned, small, pointy rocks. 

He sent a last text to May, just in case. Not that he was planning on letting just in case happen, but he had to prepare for anything. 

The tunnel was dark, but it was taller than he'd expected, widening up enough that he only had to crawl on his knees instead of his stomach. 

After a good ten minutes, it had grown enough that he could walk, the top of his head just barely brushing the ceiling. Water dripped, the sound echoing, and it smelled of swamp and earth. 

He couldn't help but think about how it felt to be back in the suit after all this time - weird, but painfully familiar. It was almost like he'd never stopped. 

He had, though. He was a different person than that slightly awkward, reckless teenager with no idea what he was doing. 

Peter still didn't really have any idea what he was doing, but now he was an adult, with an actual job and a life that he loved. It didn't feel fair, having to choose between that life and this one - having to choose how many people he could save. 

Knowing that, if he wasn't Spiderman, he wouldn't be able to save as many. 

At least he had a choice. 

********

He didn't see it coming, the blow that whistled through the air and nearly caught his head. 

It was the sound of stone on stone, a blow that he hastily dodged, flipping sideways and waiting for the dust to clear. 

He looked behind him with shock - what had come at him wasn't a fist, but a spur of stone. He spun to face front, taking stock of the tall, burly man with gray skin who stood across from him. 

The guy glared, but didn't make another move, and Peter sighed, resigning himself to yet another villain monologue. 

"Peter Parker." The voice was rough and grating and dusty. Peter suppressed a shiver. "We've been waiting for you." 

"Can we skip the monologue?" Peter asked, all false bravado and slightly-jittery limbs. It was like he was just now remembering how out of practice at this he was, like his brain hadn't fully realized what he was doing before now. 

Peter cast a wary glance out for MJ. He was hoping that was the 'we' the guy was referring to - he wasn't sure he could handle multiple opponents, not when one of them looked like he'd been carved out of stone - and seemed to have the powers to match. 

A low chuckle issued from his mouth. "Peter. It's been so long since you've worn the suit, hasn't it? How many years of you pretending to be normal has it been? Not all of us have that option, Peter."