Flaws

Peter Parker had never felt so drained in his life. Well, maybe that week of exams when crime happened to spike and he barely managed a couple hours of sleep each night, but this was a different, deeper kind of drain. It wasn't just physical exhaustion. It was mental. He felt alone. And not just alone because he was Spider-Man. That's a lonely life, and he was used to it. It wasn't that kind of feeling. He just felt so, so empty.

He was sitting and leaning against a vent on the roof of whatever building he was on top of. He was so sore. And so tired. His body was too heavy. His head especially. Somewhere on his body, blood was slowly leaking out of a wound he wasn't fully aware he had. Dimly, he realized his face felt wet. Wiping his hand over his cheeks, he realized he had been crying. Or maybe currently was.

His breathing felt too shallow. He couldn't seem to calm down. Looking at his hands again, he noticed they were shaking. They didn't even feel attached to him. He felt detached from the city, the rooftop, his own body. It was so hard to think, and yet thinking was all he could do. Otto and Scorpion's words just kept echoing in his head.

"You let it happen."

"You're a failure."

"You bring nothing but pain!"

"The world would be better off without you."

"Everyone you've ever met suffers."

May. MJ. Miles. Yuri. So many other nameless, innocent civilians who had lost something or someone. All because of him. Maybe Spider-Man really is a nuisance. A menace. Maybe it's time for an end to all of it. No more vigilante business, no more getting in police affairs, no more swinging through the city. It's caused such a mess. From the beginning, this was his fault.

If I just hadn't taken out Fisk. If I hadn't let Li get away for so long. If I would've saved Miles's father. If I had spent more time helping Aunt May. If I retired the mask, I could probably even get MJ back. No more secrets. No more unexplained disappearances. Just a normal life.

The tears dripped from his face into his lap. He pressed down on his stomach to try to stop the sobs that were coming, but he had no strength left. He was alone and he was tired and he couldn't hold it off much longer. Eventually, he had to just give in.

I'm such an idiot. I get so many people hurt on just a daily basis. And Doc… I could've done so much more. It's all because of Spider-Man. I can't keep doing this. I can't.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice in his ears.

"Pete? Where are you?"

MJ. Shitshitshit. Gotta get it together.

"What was that, MJ?" His voice came out shaky and hoarse. Weak. Just like the rest of me.

MJ's voice sounded surprised. "Pete? Are you okay?"

Peter felt, more than heard, his voice catch, but MJ didn't miss it. She had an ear for those little tells in people. It's part of what made her such a good reporter. She could be an even better reporter if I didn't keep getting in her way.

"You're not okay. Where are you? What happened? Do I need to call an ambulance?" She took a breath to continue, but that's when Peter interrupted.

"MJ, listen, I-I'll be fine. Been busy. I just need a little time to catch my breath, okay? Just some time…" His voice trailed off, wobbly. MJ's voice, on the other hand, was determined and strong.

"Stop bullshitting me, Parker. I need answers, and I need them now." Her tone was demanding, with a touch of concern. He knew just how stubborn she was. This wasn't gonna fly. Not with her, especially not now, with the city in such a state. She'd force it out of him if she had to, and he knew he wouldn't be able to lie to her for long. Not today.

"Scorpion got me. Some hallucinogen. I made myself an antidote, but it took some time to make it, and my mind…" Peter trailed off again. What am I supposed to tell her? My mind got the best of me? I realized I'm the problem? Wouldn't she want me to retire the mask?

"Do you think I should give up being Spider-Man?" Peter held his breath, waiting for her reply. Surely, she'd say yes. She'd want him safe. She'd want to be on the front lines instead.

"Of course not, Pete. You're the best thing this city's ever had. It needs you. We need you. Now more than ever. You're not giving up, are you?" She sounded confused and worried. "Pete, just tell me where you are, and someone can get you and you can take a break. You won't do anyone any good if you just run yourself down. Take a break."

She wants me to keep going. To be Spider-Man. Even with everything I've put her through. They were wrong. People do need me.

"I'm in East Harlem, I think. I don't really remember how I got here, but I can meet you somewhere-" He was ready to say more, but MJ interrupted him.

"Don't move. I'm on my way. I'm leaving Miles in charge here; he'll let us know if anything crazy happens. But for right now, just stay put. I might have borrowed a news helicopter for this, so I should be able to spot you in no time. I'll be there soon."

Peter's shoulders slumped down as he finally let himself relax. "Okay, MJ. Thanks."

Her voice was gentle. "We're partners. Don't worry about it."

Peter opened his eyes to a dimly lit room. Immediately, he panicked and checked to make sure he was still Spider-Man.

Okay, mask is on. Everything else is gone. I guess that suit got pretty messed up during all that. Whose clothes are these, though? Why does this look familiar? Where's MJ?

He tried to sit up, but sharp pain from his ribs put him back down in seconds.

Holy shit. That hurt. That hurt a lot. Thanks a lot, brain. You did this to us.

This time, he tried to sit up slower, but his ribs continued to protest, and he didn't have the energy to fight through it. Flopping back onto the bed he was laying on, he sighed in frustration. However, that sigh set off his raw, dry throat and he started coughing. Somewhere in the midst of his coughing fit, someone rushed into the room, supporting his back with one hand so he could sit up and putting a water bottle in his hands with the other.

"Deep breaths, Spider-Man. You don't wanna cause more damage to yourself than you've already taken. You sure did a number on yourself."

Is that Miles? Where am I?

Once Peter had gotten his breath back, he took a drink from the water bottle and realized just how badly his body had needed that. Maybe he was pushing his body a little too far. Advanced healing abilities still don't do much for dehydration.

Someone else entered the room and took Miles's place. He couldn't determine who; he was still so hazy and disoriented. The door shut behind him, and this new person reached for Peter's mask. Still somewhat dazed and confused, he weakly resisted, but a familiar voice spoke.

"Pete, chill out, it's just me. We brought you to FEAST. You're safe now. You're safe."

MJ.

He let his hands fall back down to the mattress as he felt her take his mask. That thing has to be gross. When's the last time I showered? I must smell so bad right now.

"Hey, Pete, you with me? You've been in and out for the past twelve hours, so- "

"Twelve hours?! I've been out for that long?" Pete exclaimed. He looked at MJ, eyes wide, and she put her hands on his shoulders. "Pete, you're fine; the city didn't burn down while you were asleep. You absolutely needed that rest, and you still need more. We contacted Yuri and she says they have everything under control for right now. You need to rest before you can get back out there."

Peter took a deep breath and relaxed a little bit. "Okay. You have a point. But I'm out of here as soon as I can be."

MJ raised her eyebrows at him. "You couldn't even sit up on your own five minutes ago. Don't get your hopes up."

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. Twelve hours. Maybe twelve more. I really did it this time. Idiot. Can't even sit up by myself without my body fighting me. Who knows how many broken bones I have. I can't protect myself, let alone this city.

MJ shook him by the shoulders. "Pete, you're going off into your own world again. Talk to me. What happened?" MJ's eyes were wide and concerned. No pity, just curiosity and worry. He could trust her. After all this, he had to. So, he told her everything. All his fears that came to life. How he literally beat himself up over them. The words that were still stuck in his head. Before he knew it, the tears were fighting to come back.

Come on, Peter. You can't cry in front of MJ. Not after she had to save your ass like this. Keep it together. You're stronger than this.

His breath caught again, and he silently cursed his brain one more time. Turning his face down and away from MJ, he tried to discreetly wipe his eyes, but before he could do so, MJ had wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. Loose enough to avoid causing him pain, but tight enough to tell him that he wasn't alone. Exhausted, he finally let himself indulge in the comfort he'd been denying himself as Spider-Man. He let someone get close. And he cried.

"How's Spider-Man doing?"

MJ and Miles were sitting in May's office drinking coffee and taking a moment to breathe. The city was still in its temporary state of relative peace, and more and more volunteers had shown up to help, giving them time to rest.

"He's doing a lot better, Miles. He just needed someone to look out for him like he does for everyone in this city," MJ replied. "He was able to talk to me a little about the state of the city, then he was out again. I think by the next time he wakes up, he'll decide he's ready to go. Whether he really is or not." She rolled her eyes at that part, knowing Peter had told her something along those lines just before he drifted off again.

"He does so much for this city. It's crazy how he's even still alive. He's fought so many of New York's worst villains, put them away, and then put them back if they got out again. You think he'll be able to do it again this time?" Miles looked to her with a doubtful expression. MJ smiled. "He has his flaws, just like the rest of us. But he never gives up. Spider-Man isn't going anywhere, and as long as some of us are behind him, we'll make sure he can stick around for a long time."

When MJ went back to the room they'd placed Peter in, he was gone, having left the clothes on the floor and taken his tattered suit. He'd left a short note, written in a hurry with his sloppy handwriting. All it said was, "Thank you." She smiled and looked out towards the city. For a second, she saw his silhouette against the sky, flipping through the air, and she knew-she just knew-that things were gonna be alright.