Ned's arrival meant that Peter could no longer push Beck from his mind. While playing Go Fish with Morgan and Michelle―a game that inevitably ended up with him and Morgan teaming up against Michelle in a victorious tickle fight―he'd been able to ignore the buzz around and below the Tower. When Ned came running out of the elevator, eyes wide and already talking a mile a minute, the temporary calm was lost.

"Ned, man, slow down." Peter got to his feet, untangling himself from the mess of limbs he, Michelle, and Morgan had dissolved into.

"Bro, this is crazy!" Ned exclaimed, waving his hands around his head. "I can't believe Beck would do something like this, you know? Like I know he was totally a bad guy and we probably should have seen it coming―"

"Ned, can I interest you in some water?" May grabbed Ned's shoulders and firmly ushered him into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder to tell Peter, "This is Mr. Murdock, Pete."

Peter waved awkwardly at the man in front of him, realizing a moment too late that he was carrying a cane. As if sensing his attempt to wave, Mr. Murdock smiled at Peter.

"Hi, Mr. Murdock, sir," Peter said, stepping forward to shake his hand. "Peter."

"I've heard," Mr. Murdock said. Gesturing in the direction of the living room, he said, "How about we have a seat and talk?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure."

They walked into the living room where Michelle was gently pulling Morgan off of her. With Pepper's help, they took Morgan back down the hall to her room to play with Peter and May spoke with Mr. Murdock.

Whether it was fortunate or not, Mr. Murdock already knew everything about Peter's case. Pepper had clearly given him a thorough rundown of the situation, but it certainly wasn't a quiet affair either. As far as Peter could hear, every news station was buzzing with the story of Spider-Man's real identity and the murder of Quentin Beck.

"You have a chance," Mr. Murdock assured him. "Mrs. Stark informed me that your suit has records of all encounters with Mr. Beck. When the court demands a hearing―and they will―those files will be incredibly useful."

"So it's all going to be okay?" May asked. Her hand found Peter's and squeezed. "This will all blow over?"

Mr. Murdock pursed his lips.

"The world knows your identity now, Peter," he said kindly. "That will not change. However, we can clear your name from Mr. Beck's murder."

"It's something, at least," Peter murmured. "How long before things calm down?"

"That is the question," Mr. Murdock said with a grimace, "isn't it?"

Ned spoke with Mr. Murdock afterward, recounting everything he knew from the Europe trip as well as what he'd said to the police. While Ned was preoccupied with that, Peter slipped out onto the balcony and tucked himself into a hidden corner. It took mere minutes before May joined him.

"Hey, Peter," she said softly. She sat beside him, not quite in the corner, but far enough she was hidden from view like him. "What're you thinking about?"

Peter sighed. "A lot."

With a hum, May said, "Care to share? Maybe I can help smooth out that tangled mess of your brain."

Despite himself, Peter smiled.

He didn't look up at her, instead directing his attention to the ground where little bits of gravel stuck to his fingers when he pressed hard enough. It was a prickling sensation that he was not unfamiliar with and somehow, it helped ground him.

"I can't stop worrying about... well, everyone, really," Peter muttered. He pressed his hand into the gravel. "You, MJ, Ned. Even Morgan and Pepper. You're all targets now, you know? Spider-Man wasn't... He's not just a friendly neighborhood guy anymore. He has more than just neighborhood enemies now."

"He also has more than just himself," May added. As Peter pressed his fingers harder into the gravel, May grabbed his hand to stop him. "You've got the Avengers on your side, Pete. You've got the Starks. You have me."

"I know." Peter turned to look at her worriedly as he said, "It's just―What if that's not enough?"

"We'll figure it out, baby." May finished brushing the gravel from his hand, saying, "You've got a whole army behind you this time and we're gonna figure it out. It'll be scary, yeah―" May shrugged― "but we're all on your side. And you aren't ever getting rid of us."

Peter nodded and as he rubbed under his nose, resisting the sudden urge to sniffle, May pulled him into a slightly awkward hug.

"Mr. Murdock's gonna clear your name from Beck's death," she whispered, "and then we'll tackle the whole Spider-Man identity thing, alright?" Peter nodded numbly. "One step at a time, baby."

When Michelle came across her phone again, she had a missed call and thirteen texts from Kate Bishop, several calls from her parents, and one from an unfamiliar number. Between distracting Morgan, speaking with Mr. Murdock, and hunting down a moping Peter, she'd forgotten that her phone had been turned on silent and left somewhere in the kitchen until she had finally collapsed on the couch. It was lucky someone had brought it into the living room where she could find it.

Beside her, Peter was asleep, too tired from the emotional drain of the day to stay awake once Morgan's bouncing energy was directed away from him. Almost as soon as the little terror had been guided to her room by both Pepper and May, Peter had closed his eyes and passed out.

For the first time since that afternoon, there wasn't a constant bustle around the penthouse. Ned was muttering quietly with Happy, both of them still finishing up dinner, and the sun had fully set an hour ago, the darkness outside making everything seem so long ago.

Michelle reached for her phone, careful not to jostle Peter too much as he slouched against the back of the couch.

She spent the first several minutes responding to Kate's texts, reassuring her that they had not been kidnapped from their home after Kate had gone to find it empty. Hawkeye would continue to take care of Queens until Spider-Man was back in business, Kate promised. After swearing to call her later, Michelle listened to her parent's voicemails.

They were, understandably, concerned about what it meant for her if Peter was Spider-Man. Unfortunately, unlike her daughter, Michelle's mother was quick to believe the news and insisted she leave Peter immediately for her own safety. Michelle sent her a halfhearted text explaining the news didn't have the full truth and that she would not be leaving Peter. The response was less than enthusiastic, but Michelle didn't have it in her to argue more with her mother and moved on to listen to her father's voicemail.

Her father was interested in hearing her side of what happened which Michelle was more than willing to share.

She spent an hour speaking quietly on the phone with her father, explaining the events in Europe and how Beck had doctored the news footage. In the time she was on the phone, May and Happy retired to their room for the evening and Ned was directed to a guest room on the Avengers floor below.

When Michelle finally ended the call with her father, the penthouse had mostly cleared out and only Pepper remained, typing on her laptop across from her.

"Your parents?" Pepper asked, glancing up as Michelle's finger hovered over the last voicemail.

She nodded. "They reacted about as expected."

Pepper hummed and, closing her laptop, turned to look at Michelle and Peter.

"You should head to bed," she told Michelle. "You've both had a long day and tomorrow won't be much better."

With a nod, Michelle gently nudged Peter awake and they made their way down to the old Avenger's floor, crossing Ned on their way. Although he had remained relatively calm when given the news, it was clear that he had spent the better half of the last hour wandering the floor with wide eyes.

"Go to bed, nerd," Michelle teased, guiding Peter along with a tug of her hand. "You can explore tomorrow."

With a little more encouragement, Ned finally ducked into his room for the night while Michelle pulled Peter into theirs. It didn't take long after lying down for both of them to fall asleep, still in their day clothes but too tired to care.

It wasn't until Michelle woke up the next morning that she remembered the last voicemail on her phone. It had been left by a number that wasn't in her contacts and while Michelle was half afraid it was a reporter calling to ask about Peter, she pulled herself out of bed to listen to it while Peter continued to doze.

"Hello, Miss Jones. This is Marc Lacey with the New York Times. I'm calling regarding your scheduled interview this Friday."

Michelle's blood ran cold. She had forgotten about her Times interview following the leak of Peter's identity.

"In light of recent events, I'm afraid the Times is unable to offer you a position. Should things change, we would love to see your application again but for now, we're sorry to say―"

In her ear, Marc's voice continued to sound, but Michelle didn't hear his words.

The voicemail ended and her phone slipped from her hand as Michelle stared at the wall in numb silence. Behind her, Peter shifted on the bed and groaned. He might have said her name―she thought maybe he did―but she didn't respond.

Cold dread seeped under her skin and it was a miracle she didn't shiver in her short-sleeved shirt. Peter's voice was muffled behind her, but all she could hear was the pounding in her ears.

Her eyes prickled. Her nose itched. Peter was in front of her then, hands on her shoulders and looking at her worriedly.

"MJ? What happened?"

His voice cut through her thoughts and with a shaky breath, her eyes focused on him. She blinked and something warm hit her cheek.

"They―They canceled my interview," she whispered. She wasn't even sure she spoke the words aloud, but Peter―Peter with his goddamn super hearing―heard her all the same.

"They―What?"

Michelle nodded and another warm tear hit her cheek as she told him, "Because of Beck's murder. They think I had something to do with it and they―they won't―"

She couldn't breathe, something Peter seemed to realize at the same moment as her.

"Hey, breathe, Em," he told her. He grabbed her hand, holding it to his chest and drawing a long, deep breath as she took a stuttering one. "Breathe with me, Em."

Her heart was racing, pounding deafeningly in her ears, but Peter's hands were warm over hers and his chest moved under her shaking fingers.

She took in another shaking breath, following Peter's lead and listening as he murmured incoherent reassurances.

"You with me?" he murmured. She nodded and he immediately pulled her to his chest in a tight hug. "God, MJ." His lips brushed her ear as he buried his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said weakly. "I don't―I don't blame you, tiger."

She would blame everyone else before she blamed Peter for the Times's decision. Beck was the first on her list.

"I'm sorry all the same," Peter told her, pressing a soft kiss behind her ear. "You worked so hard for that, MJ. They shouldn't have taken it from you like that."

No, they shouldn't have, but Michelle couldn't do anything about it now. The Times was just as invested in their public image as any other business. Until Beck was proven wrong and Spider-Man's newfound fame died down, she supposed she'd be lucky to find a job at all.

And suddenly, that was the only thing she could think about.

She'd quit the Bugle. Before taking off for Europe, she had quit her day job at the Bugle because she knew she'd be getting interviewed for the Times. Now, though, she didn't have a job and they were engaged and the whole world thought Spider-Man was a villain, and―

"MJ!" Peter's voice interrupted her spiral of thoughts and when she blinked, he had pulled back to look at her. "I lost you there for a minute."

"I don't know how you didn't start screaming yesterday," she admitted, leaning into him. "It all just hit me."

"Yeah, well." Peter shrugged and his hand came up to gently finger her curls. "It wasn't easy."

Michelle believed every bit of that.

"You deserve more credit than we give you," Michelle said with a soft laugh. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent as she repeated, "I don't blame you, Peter, so please don't blame yourself."

"We're gonna fix this, Em," he promised, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm gonna fix it."