Chapter 2 for Day 5 of @spideychelleweek - Roommates
"Hey, Jones! I made you tea."
"I'm not really in the mood right now, Peter. Can we talk about this another time? Or maybe never?"
He steps into her path, forcing her to stop. His gaze darts between both of eyes like he's trying to solve a riddle, but her patience is almost non-existent after the stress of the afternoon. She tries to side step him but he continues to block her. "You called me Peter. You've never called me Peter, before."
"I'm tired," she stresses, pushing him gently with the air so she can skirt around him, "I just want to go to bed."
Peter scrambles to keep up with her, his voice an octave too high. "Okay, see, about that -"
Michelle waves her watch in front of her room's keypad and the door slides open to reveal Ned grinning at her, standing in the middle of… Nothing.
A world at war. A family torn apart. A move that could save them all.
At the core of a life powered by the elements is the soulmate bond - but it’s been over a decade since the last recorded pairing, and Michelle’s too busy getting ready to join the fight of her life to care about such trivial matters.
How was she to know that stealing Flash’s seat would crash her destiny right into Peter Parker’s?
(the beginning of a soulmate AU that got out of hand for @spideychelleweek)
"Mom? Mom! Where are you?"
She's coughing, gagging on the taste of soot and dust. Rubble scrapes at her skin as she crawls through what used to be the entryway of their house. There's a shattered photo frame, three smiling faces frozen in time, lying next to the splintered remains of the coat rack. She grabs at the red fabric peeking out from beneath it and wraps the scarf around her face, making her way further into the house. Smoke billows through the archway leading to the kitchen and she hesitates, tries to peer inside without getting too close to the flames.
"Mom?"
And then she hears it.
She stays low and rushes in, following the sound of her name being yelled until she finds the source.
"Michelle! Michelle, I'm here!" Fire rages just feet away but she barely feels the heat lick at her skin, rushing to her mother's side.
"Honey, you need to be brave for me, okay?" Vanessa cups her daughter's face, swiping at the tears that soak into the scarf. "You need to get your brother and get to the bunker, quickly now."
"I'm not leaving you!" Michelle scrambles closer, trying to get a closer look at the support bean pinning Vanessa down at the waist. She grapples with it, trying desperately to lift it, but her eleven year old strength isn't capable of much besides determination. "Mom, please."
But her mom just shakes her head, shouting now to be heard over the blaze. "Find your brother, he should be close." When Michelle doesn't move, she yells, "Now! Go, Michelle!"
There's an almighty crack above them and debris rains down on them, first a little, but with another shake in the foundations the last of the structural integrity gives and everything falls, falls, falls…
Everything goes black.
Michelle wakes up with a start, sweat clinging to her skin as the first rays of sunlight pour into the room. Her surroundings are unfamiliar and it takes a while to get her bearings; the room is very small, just a single bed and drawer unit. The décor is bland - walls white, carpet a deep shade of green. She forces herself up and makes the bed, heads to the small sink and toilet tucked behind a dividing wall. After splashing water on her face, she looks into the mirror and takes in the dark circles under her eyes, the long tangle of curls still pulled back in a tight braid.
Her uniform is easy enough, mostly simple clothing that a woman she'd forgotten the name of had pressed into her hands the day before, and she forces her tired limbs into it. Next is breakfast, a thought that makes anxiety swirl in her stomach. She'd memorised the map of the base last night and knows she can't linger, but walking into that room with all of those people for the first time just makes her feel sick.
It goes about as well as can be expected.
When she walks into the canteen it's busy, a congregation of every teenager registered to Prep who are all talking at once. She walks gingerly around the outskirts of the room until she reaches the serving station, grabbing oatmeal and fruit before scanning the student ID registered to her smart watch. She spots a reasonably empty table in the corner and heads over to it, pulling out the tablet from her backpack to read over her schedule, mostly to keep her busy.
Her first class is Technology, something that would have intrigued her five years ago. Now she's just impatient for the training session before lunch, but she knows that to get to where she wants to go requires learning the basics.
Something in the air shifts, and she looks up to see a hundred pairs of eyes glancing her way, the noise level dropping as the groups begin to whisper.
Michelle rolls her eyes and finishes her oatmeal.
She's early to the Technology classroom, a wide space with several glass-topped tables occupying the center of the room. There's two boys talking up front with their professor - who has a bark far worse than his bite, according to her doctor. There's three or four stools littered around each table and she heads straight to the back of the room, picking the chair with the best overall view of the room.
"I wouldn't sit there, if I were you," someone says. She looks up from tucking her bag away to see one of the boys standing a few feet away, his brown hair buzzed very short, a scar cutting a four inch white line next to his temple on the left side. "Flash is very protective of his seat."
"Flash can go screw himself."
He regards her curiously when she crosses her ankles and pulls out the tablet again. When his silence lasts longer than fifteen seconds she looks back up and snaps, "What?"
"While I'm always delighted by anyone trying to take him on - really, it's great - I just want to give you a fair warning that he won't take this well."
"What's he going to do, fight me for me for it?" She rests her chin on the heal of her hand. "I'd like to see him try."
"Actually, he'll probably just annoy you to death." The other boy, a little shorter with dimples when he grins at her, approaches the table. "But I am loving this whole vibe you've got going."
People begin to filter into the room but Michelle barely notices, too busy trying to find a way out of this conversation. "I'm Ned Leeds, by the way," the shorter boy says. "This is Peter Parker."
She considers them, trying to work out whether it's worth learning their names. They seem nice enough but they don't know who she is yet, and she knows from experience that tends to change people's approach. Still, she supposes it's worth at least trying to find some friendly faces, so she sighs and introduces herself. "Jones."
No raising of the eyebrows, no gaping mouths, no flinching. Huh.
"Hey, you're in my seat." Someone else approaches, presumably this 'Flash' character, knocking into Peter's shoulder. Great, doing well at trying to fly under the radar here.
Michelle fixes him with her coldest stare, her teeth clenched, hands curled into fists.
To his credit, Flash lasts a good fifteen seconds before surrendering. He mutters something about bad blood as he skulks off, but she doesn't get the chance to respond because Professor Fitz slams a thick file on his desk and the room settles into silence. Peter and Ned rush into the seats left at her table, typically, and Fitz looks around the room with an air of general disinterest.
"If we're all quite finished, let's get on with it, shall we? This is your second week with the holotable and the beginning on your class project." Fitz presses a hand to his desk and then lifts it quickly into the air, a simple hologram of the base exterior beamed up in front of them. With a flick of his wrist, the image rotates on an axis. "Your team have six weeks to give me an accurate, working model. Remember the nuances of the system we discussed in the last class. Your information packs will be available on your network and for elemental's sake, please read it before asking me any ridiculous questions."
"Six weeks, sir? How are we supposed to finish something this advanced in six weeks?" A girl from the front table asks, a distressed wrinkle between her eyebrows.
"Thank you, Horowitz, for that example of a ridiculous question. Information packs! Go!" Fitz approaches her table, tapping the table top three times before speaking to her. "Jones, I know you've missed some sessions but you've also managed to team yourself up with perhaps the only group who can actually achieve this."
"Aw, thanks, sir," Peter says with a smile.
"I was clearly talking about Leeds." Fitz points to Ned, who looks unbelievably proud of himself. "Catch her up and impress me."
When Ned seems incapable of responding, Michelle says, "I'm sure he's capable of that. I mean, how hard can it be?"
Ned and Fitz both look at her incredulously before laughing. "Yeah, okay, Jones. While we're at it, maybe we could solve the Hodge conjecture."
This time, all three of them laugh, and Fitz walks away to take a seat at his desk.
"It's fine, Jones. I've got you." Ned reaches to the side of their table and suddenly it lights up, a welcome screen surrounded by little icons that mean nothing to her. "What's your experience with holographic engineering?"
She blinks quickly. "I'm going with a solid zero."
Ned blanches and Peter claps a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, don't worry, you're a great teacher. She'll pick it up in no time."
"I thought all the bases had holotables now!" Ned still looks sufficiently upset. "How is this your first time seeing one?"
"I've been busy," she hedges, crossing her arms across her chest. "Can we stop insulting my intellect and instead get started? I'm a fast learner, just show me what funny gestures I have to do."
Peter pulls out his tablet and taps quickly at the screen, then flicks his finger up. A file opens on the table labelled 'Introduction to Holographic Engineering', a collection of text and images and notes scribbled in a messy handwriting. "I've still got my notes saved from last year, we can work through it systematically."
Ned sighs. "Okay. Crash course in the holotable. Let's do this."
***
Michelle walks into the training area with a significant headache but a beginner's understanding on the mechanics of the holotable.
"Hey, Jones." Peter approaches her from the side lines of the gym as she rolls out some of the tension in her shoulders, a friendly smile on his face.
"I see they just let anyone in here," she says dryly, and he chuckles.
"Yeah, it's like it's first year of Prep or something." He rocks back and forth on his feet as she fiddles with the end of her braid, shaking her legs to start the blood flowing. "Actually, we're pretty lucky with our tutor this year. Romanov doesn't usually do drills with the lower class. She's pretty intense, but don't let that scare you."
"It doesn't," Michelle replies easily, straightening a little more as the teacher comes over to them, her short red hair bouncing with her jog.
"'Jojo, it's so good to see you." Natasha Romanov wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into a quick hug. "Sorry I didn't make it to your room yesterday. Did you settle in okay?"
"Jojo?" Peter asks.
Michelle ignores him. "Yeah, it's okay. Only temporary until next intake; then I'll be in the dorms."
"We're gonna have a proper catch up on your trip tonight, okay? Get the gang together again." Natasha gives her another squeeze before turning to a perplexed Peter. "Parker, rally the team."
"Jojo?" he asks again, but when Natasha gives him a look he jogs to the other side of the gym, where several mats have been laid out, calling out to gather their classmates.
"Give 'em hell, sweetie," Natasha says with a wink, and then her expression fades into the one Michelle has grown increasingly familiar with in recent years; it's when she means business.
Natasha has them take a seat on the mat to begin, staring sternly down at them with her feet apart. "Due to last week's fiasco, I have the pleasure of giving you the responsibility speech. It's not something I thought I'd have to deliver to a room of sixteen year olds - a team I thought were mature enough to act in the decent way that is expected of any Prep student - but here we are, wasting precious training time."
Natasha claps her hand, then holds them out to the class. "Who can tell me the first thing we learn in life?"
"The four elements," a few of the students reply.
"Thank you. The four elements; Air, Earth, Fire and Water. They are at the very core of life itself, sustaining us, providing for us. And when we hit puberty, they protect us. They let us control them. Their power is a gift." Natasha closes her eyes and, in the palm of her hand, a tiny tornado whips through the air around her. When she closes her hand, the wind halts. "This is not a gift we can take lightly. It is not a fun little magic trick, or a game. Treating it as such is what divides us from the Others - the people who want to use it to destroy, to conquer, to seek more power. We choose to work with the elements, and in this class you will learn to use it so that one day we may have peace."
Natasha paces before them, a downward curve to the line of her lips as she looks over the crowd. "Next question, what is the second thing we learn about the elements?"
The class is quiet for a moment before a boy with a shock of white blond hair raises his hand hesitantly. "They give us soulmates?"
Michelle rolls her eyes. She's always disliked the idea of soulmates, a force apparent hidden in the core of the elemental power. In the books and the movies there's always two desperate people trying to find their other half, and it's just a glance; a touch; a shared moment of connection. They know it in the core of their being and everything is perfect and simple and they all live happily ever after. The idea of her soul somehow not being ‘complete’ - there being a piece of her missing - makes something in her blood boil. How is she not enough by just being Michelle?
Peter, sat a few people over on her left, cuts in, "She's talking about the marks."
"Yes, Parker." Natasha pulls up her sleeve until they can see her mark, a black triangle with a line drawn through the top; the same as Michelle's. "I want you to look at your marks now. Study them. This mark represents the element that has chosen you. You've spent the last few years learning to understand what you have been given, but for the next two you will learn how to harness it, to strengthen it, to seal the bond between you and your element. It is our responsibility to use these gifts carefully, and those who can not abide by this will not finish Prep and go on to service their community. Am I clear?"
A generally agreeable murmuring comes from the crowd and Natasha nods shortly. "Alright, now get up and start sprints for making me have to say that. Slowest gets to towel down the mat after we run strategy drills."
The group jump into action and Michelle spends twenty minutes running at full pelt up and down the gym, enjoying the hum of the air as it passes her. She think she'd probably enjoy it even if there wasn't a direct link to her powers; there’s something peaceful in how her heart pounds, the air whispering to her as she slices a path through it.
By the time they gather for the strategy drills, she's raring to go, eager for something that will finally be familiar after days of being lost in change.
Natasha encourages them to pair up and before she can consider it, Peter appears at her side, his skin glistening with sweat, his cheeks a little flushed. "Partners?"
She watches him run a hand over his cropped hair and spots his mark; the water symbol. "I was going to ask Flash, but I think I've scared him off, so I suppose you'll do."
Peter grins and they head over to a suitable space. "I don't think I've ever seen him intimidated by someone, and I've known him since we were five."
"People don't tend to find me very amicable." Michelle fiddles with the tape wrapped around her knuckles. "You wanna take defense?"
"Sure." He puts his arms up and Michelle mirrors him, spreading her feet, hands curled into fists. "You saying people don't like you much?"
Michelle shrugs and jabs toward his shoulder, a move he easily skirts.
"You seem alright to me."
Michelle pauses to frown at him. "Really?"
He gives a half hearted shrug.
"Oh." Michelle takes up her stance again and aim, left right left. Peter dodges right and ducks. "That's uh… Thanks, I guess."
"I get the feeling," Peter begins until he has catch himself from tripping over the foot she aims his way, "I get the feeling people aren't nice to you that often."
"I get the feeling you're enjoying this, Parker."
Peter scoffs. "A little bit, but I also know you're holding back, Jojo."
She smirks. "I didn't want to embarrass you just yet. And don't call me that."
"Come on." He beckons her forward. "Give me your best shot."
And she does.
And maybe that's why she doesn't notice it at first, too busy taking him straight down to the mat to register that tug in her chest, the tingle of something powerful in her extremities.
Maybe she just doesn't want to believe it; that she's sixteen and has somehow, inexplicably found the one thing she never wanted to find.
She doesn't sleep that night - never does, too overwhelmed with memories of flames and pain and screams - but Ned dozes at her feet and Peter lets her assault him with popcorn every time he snorts with laughter beside her. Instead of just the agony that twists at her soul, she feels something whispering against the edges of it; like a balm that has eased her suffering.
A kernel bounces off Peter's cheek and glances off Ned's nose, and the sleeping boy lets out a snore that sends her into a fit of laughter.
They're good friends, she decides. Damien would like them.
