(Untitled)

[getemtiger]

In the year and a half she had been on the island, Mary Jane had been through a hell of a lot - more, she thought, than she'd ever had to go through back home, or at least it seemed that way, all of it fitting within such a short amount of time. More than once, she'd told herself that things here couldn't have gotten worse. Even now, trying to keep

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[daretodo]

It's the tone of her voice alone that catches my breath short. I turn around on the spot, and when I see her just standing there, breathless but otherwise stock-still, all conscious thought goes flying from mind, replaced with one single, sinking realization -- something's happened. Dimly, I'm aware of dropping the towel I'd been using to dry my hair, but I don't register anything else until I'm holding her shoulders in my hands, trying to catch her wide-eyed gaze with my own, searching her face for any inclination of what's wrong.

"Mary Jane?" I ask, a tidal wave of concern flooding into those three little syllables. She's already been through so much, it seems unfair to put her through more again so soon. "Mary Jane, what is it? What's wrong?"

[getemtiger]

"I don't -" Mary Jane started, but it was too much. All of it combined - confusion, residual fear, relief at Peter's being alright - was more overwhelming than she could, in that moment, handle. Unable to explain just yet, what little she had pieced together sounding ridiculous even in her own head, there was nothing she could do but shake her head, barely noticing as her eyes filled with tears. Hands coming up to curl around the fabric of his shirt, just below its collar, she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder, helping her stay upright as her knees gave out underneath her. "I don't know," she choked out on a sob, words half-muffled. "I don't know what happened, I just -"

[daretodo]

"Shh, shh, it's alright," I murmur, though I have no way of knowing how long that'll stay true. As a million possibilities rush through my mind, my body operates on autopilot. Instinctively, I pull her in closer, burying one hand in her hair to cradle the back of her head. She doesn't look injured, as far as I can tell, but that doesn't mean a damn thing, not when she's trembling like a leaf, and I can barely make out what she's trying to tell me. In this moment, it doesn't matter how many weeks I've got left on my recovery -- panic pushes adrenaline through my veins, and I pick her up from the ground with no hint of pain, one arm secure under her knees, the other supporting her back. I start towards the bed. "It's alright, Mary Jane, just-- Just take your time, okay? Nothing's gonna get to you here, I promise."

[getemtiger]

There was nothing Mary Jane could do but curl against him, fighting hard to try to catch her breath, if only because she knew she needed to say something. Technically speaking, she had gotten through so much worse and she knew it, but after what she'd seen, it was hard to feel like that, to process it, logic temporarily taking a backseat. Trying her hardest to focus on Peter and his arms around her, not what it had been like to see him killed, she clung to him almost desperately, though it did nothing to slow her crying now that she'd started. That was going to take a few moments more. "It seemed so real," she managed, that suddenly being one of the only things she fully knew was true. "God, Peter, I don't -"