Five
Michelle went straight to Morita’s office the next morning. Not because she thought Peter would be there waiting for her in his New Balances and blue jeans and whatever goofy science t-shirt they put him in that day, but because it felt wrong to do anything else.
To his credit, Morita didn’t question her presence when Michelle knocked on his door before first period and simply motioned to the chairs on the visitor’s side of his desk. Michelle took a seat and tried to not make her angst too terribly noticeable.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Morita said plainly, shutting the office door behind him before taking a seat in his own chair. “I’ll let you know when I do, but until then it’s business as usual.”
“What do I tell people when they ask where he is?”
Morita frowned. “This isn’t some big conspiracy, Michelle. Just tell the truth.”
“Which is what? That I was careless and Peter almost shut down permanently because of it?”
“ Were you careless? I thought you said it was an accident.”
“No, no, It was. I just… I don’t know. The whole school is attached to Peter and it’s barely been a week. And I’m supposed to tell them that as his student companion, a position that just about every other kid in here wanted, I messed up. And the multimillion dollar GoGoGadget Boy had to go back to the factory for repairs and might not come back.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to tell them.”
Michelle opened her mouth to say that he didn’t know what she was going through. What it was like to have half the school ignore or be scared of you, and then suddenly be given some sort of Attention Grace Pass that should have meant some new friends or at least a bit of refreshing conversation with peers, but it turned into a stifling daily commitment. Warped into whispers overheard in the gym locker room about how Michelle Jones and that robot are getting awfully close. Do you think Peter’s programmed to know how to—
But Principal Morita’s face softened before Michelle could get the words out, something open and honest in his gaze, that led Michelle to believe he may have been more aware of the situation than she previously thought. She shrunk in her seat and watched the dust motes bob in the morning light seeping through the office window so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.
“Do you remember our first meeting? The day before Peter’s arrival? I told you that if the emotional or physical strain of dealing with Peter became too much, you could tap out.”
Michelle nodded.
“That hasn’t changed. You’re not trapped. This seems to be having a pretty large effect on you. Has from the beginning, if Peter’s words ring true.”
Michelle doesn’t like me v-very much. I didn’t want to bother her.
Even a machine could tell how awful she’d been.
“We still don’t know if Peter’s coming back. If he does, you don’t have to be his companion. I can and will find someone else.”
The thought of Peter wandering around Midtown with someone else, Ned, Betty, hell, maybe even Flash, was like a splash of cold water to the face. Refreshing, but uncomfortable.
The discomfort was a tip-off. Peter had grated her nerves when he first arrived. He was unaware and awkward and painfully social. He asked endless questions about the world and the people in it and Michelle could only offer him short, clipped answers without wanting to explode.
But then Michelle watched him lose so much thirium that his sleeve was soaked blue and he could barely walk, and she realized that maybe she’d hated everything about Peter because he was doing everything she wasn’t.
He was trying.
“He can stay with me.”
“You really don’t need to feel responsible for him Michelle—“
“But I do. And I can handle it. If he comes back, I’d like to still be his companion. If you and Mr. Stark will allow it.”
Morita surveyed her. “I will. And I’ll say as much to Stark.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The cord phone on Morita’s desk hummed as he pulled it off the hook and toward his ear, reluctantly prepared to make the call to Tony Stark that neither Michelle nor Morita himself really wanted an answer to. “Don’t thank me yet. This conversation means nothing if Peter ends up a pile of scrap metal.”
“Where’s Peter?”
Michelle knew Ned’s question was coming, but didn’t expect him to hit her with it the second she sat down at her lab table in first period chemistry.
“Uh,” she said eloquently, trying not to look too suspicious as she accidentally slammed her textbook against the desktop. “He’s...He’s back with Stark for a while.”
Ned’s brows furrowed. “Really? Why? Software updates or--” He leaned in a little bit, probably a bit too close, Ned had issues with personal space sometimes, and stared at Michelle. “Did you just say he?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve called Peter it since the day he got here.”
“No I haven’t.”
“You definitely have. But you just called him he.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“MJ are you being serious right now?”
She was. A little. She knew she’d seen Peter as an object— not a person. And probably referred to him as such. But she didn’t notice the verbal switch from then to now.
What was now? What was the difference? What changed?
Ned evidently either got bored of Michelle’s introspection or didn’t realize it was happening. “Whatever. I’m gonna miss him, though. Peter’s the only one in this school who’s any good at secret handshakes.”
“MJ, hey.”
Class had yet to start, so Betty Brant had time to sneak over from her own table and take Peter’s empty stool next to Michelle. “How is he?”
“How’s who?” Ned asked.
“It seemed pretty bad. That jacket’s definitely ruined.”
Ned frowned. “What jacket?”
“Ohhh, what did Morita say? Are you in trouble?”
Ned leaned in. “In trouble? For what?”
Betty leaned forward too, and Michelle was starting to feel claustrophobic. She rarely had this many people in her personal space, much less people asking her questions she didn’t want to answer.
“Did Stark confiscate him? Is that why he’s not here?”
“He didn’t get confiscated,” Michelle finally choked out, torn between delaying her answer so she could take deep breaths and just spitting it out so Betty would shut up. “Stark took him back to SI for repairs.”
“ Repairs?”
“Oh my god, Ned, try yelling it a little louder, why don’t you?”
He immediately looked sheepish, a blush rising to his cheeks, and Michelle felt guilty for her outburst. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll explain it later tonight when we watch Invincible at your house, okay? I don’t wanna get into detail right now. But something happened to Peter. He’s fine, I think.”
Michelle was only guessing. She had no clue. He didn’t seem very fine when Stark carried him bridal style down the school hallway. But she didn’t want Ned making a scene. He’d never do it on purpose, but he could be unintentionally boisterous at times. It usually ended up one, embarrassing both of them or two, getting them in trouble.
The chemistry teacher walked into the room and called the class to order, and Betty slid out of Peter’s seat with an apologetic smile. “I’ll text you later, ‘kay?”
If Michelle could choose anywhere in the world to live, it would be Ned Leeds’ apartment.
Mrs. Leeds worked for a nonprofit and filled the apartment with hand made decor and goods sold by her company, items whose proceeds went entirely to education and housing for young girls in underprivileged areas. Mr. Leeds was a business man of some sort just like half of the men in New York and wasn’t around much, but he usually made it home for dinner and always wore nicely ironed dress shirts. He made a conscious effort to remember Michelle’s name and ask what book she was reading at the moment.
Not that it was anything extravagant; but that’s why Michelle loved it so much. It was calm and normal and good. The apartment itself was a single story unit in Queens, nice and clean with light yellow walls and lots of family photos. There was a wreath on the front door and a big window in the living room. Ned’s room was something expected of a teenage boy; blue with movie posters and video games stacked on the dresser and the desk and wherever else he could keep them closeby. It was a little messy sometimes, maybe even chaotic, but it was familiar.
And Michelle had never once been turned away at the Leeds’ door. They were eating dinner? They made her a plate. They were watching a movie? They grabbed Michelle a blanket and pillow and made room on the couch. They were out of town? They told Michelle where they hid the key and just asked her to water the plants. The Leeds family home was Michelle’s safe space in a way her own home never was and would probably never be.
So after a full day of stressing over Peter and fielding questions from classmates, she was relieved to walk through the front door and see Ned sitting on a barstool in his kitchen, snacks and drinks prepped for their designed weekly TV night.
“Hey! I almost didn’t hear you come in.” Ned waved his phone at her, signaling to something on the screen. “Been reading spoiler free reviews for the new episode. It’s supposed to be crazy! Apparently someone gets decapitated—“
“That sounds like a spoiler to me, Ned.”
“Oh. Yeah, it does, doesn’t it. Huh. Whatever. You ready?” He held out a can of Sprite, tab already bent and popped open.
Michelle grinned and took the soda. “Born ready. Let’s watch a cartoon character lose their head.”
By the end of the episode, Michelle and Ned had both finished their drinks, dropped enough popcorn into the couch cushions to feed a small animal for a week, and used so many profanities that had Ned’s parents been home, both him and her would have been berated for their language.
Michelle’s jaw was still on the floor. “That was…”
Ned put the now empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “That was way more than one decapitation.”
“He decapitated everyone. In, like, the most creative ways possible.”
“I really did not see that coming. At all.”
Both of them were shocked into silence by the ending of the episode. Neither spoke for a while, sitting in the silence of Ned’s living room and staring at the television.
“Uh, MJ? W-what happened to Peter?”
She’d forgotten she told Ned she’d explain everything. It was kind of him to not bring it up the second she walked inside the apartment.
He gave her some time to chill before grilling her.
Michelle repositioned herself on the couch, preparing to tell the story with as little drama as possible. “We were on the way to AcaDec. Apparently someone pushed him on the subway and he cut his arm somehow. I didn’t find out until after practice was over.”
Ned looked genuinely worried over the news that a robot had sustained some structural damage. “Oh man. Is he okay?”
“You can’t tell anyone this part, alright? Literally no one. I don’t feel like explaining it yet.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He shook his head with rapture, optioning for her to continue.
“He lost a ton of thirium. His version of blood, basically. Stark had to use the emergency shutdown code so his biocomponents didn’t fail. He took him back to Stark Industries.”
“But he’s coming back, right? Peter’s coming back to Midtown?”
Michelle knew Ned liked Peter, was maybe a bit attached to him like a kid with a new puppy. The extent of that attachment was lost on her until now. Ned didn’t just sound disappointed, like that metaphorical new puppy ran away. He looked upset. Almost as if he lost a friend, and he wished he’d had more time with them.
“The internal damage from the thirium loss could have been bad, and he might need a lot of repairs, and I just...I just don’t know, Ned.”
He looked like he wanted to reply, but Michelle was saved from more questions by a knock at the front door.
“Were you expecting someone?” Michelle asked.
Ned shook his head. “No, not that I know of. Unless someone’s coming by for my parents and they didn’t tell me.” He stood from the couch with a groan, dusting some stray popcorn off of his t-shirt before making his way to the door. He squinted and leaned upward toward the peephole. Michelle didn’t expect much of a reaction from such a simple glance, but after finding out who was on the other side Ned looked like he was ready to fling the door off its hinges.
Ned undid the deadbolt with a ferocity Michelle didn’t know he had and flung the door open.
Standing in the hallway, closed fist raised and ready to knock again, was Peter.
“Oh my god!” Ned flew forward and wrapped his arms around the robot. Peter looked surprised and maybe a little afraid, but once he realized that he wasn’t in danger he tentatively raised his arms and awkwardly pat Ned on the back a few times.
Michelle shot up and met the boys at the door. “Peter! What are you doing here? What happened? Are you okay?”
Ned has the presence of mind to ask, “How did you get my address?”
“I-I’m fine, I think. I’ll explain everything.” Peter turned to Ned. “You told me you and Michelle have movie nights at your place on Fridays. And I downloaded the sophomore class roster at the AcaDec meeting so I could find Flash’s real name, and now I have everyone’s addresses. Could I come inside?”
“Yeah, man, of course you can.” Ned and Michelle stepped back from the door so Peter could wedge his way in, and Ned locked the door behind him.
They all migrated to the kitchen. Ned and Peter sat at the bar and Michelle leaned against the countertop on the other side. She wanted to keep Peter in her line of sight, but the idea of being physically close to him at the moment was making her anxious.
Peter was in his usual clothes, but his ruined shirt had been replaced with a midtown hoodie. The sleeves were a little too long and covered half of each hand. He fiddled with the hem of the left one. “I guess I should just get to the point, huh?”
He looked sheepish. If machines could look sheepish. If he had real blood, it would probably be rushing to his cheeks. “Mr. Stark ran diagnostics after he shut me down. My biocomponents are okay, obviously,” he motioned to himself. “But the cut on my arm could only be patched, not fixed.”
Peter worked at the right sleeve of his sweatshirt, using the bagginess of it to his advantage and rolling it up to his shoulder. The smooth skin there was disrupted by an inch-long row of neat stitches. The thread looked different than normal medicinal stitching, thicker and shinier. “Synthetic skin obviously doesn’t heal like regular skin does. One abrasion affects the integrity of the entire unit. They closed the hole, but another breach like that might require a complete re-cover.”
Ned cleared his throat. “Uh, a re-cover?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, like, they take off my current skin and fit me with—“
Michelle felt sick. “We get it. Continue.”
Peter pulled his sleeve down. “Right. Sorry. Mr. Stark cleared me for restart and restored my memory. And I asked him to bring me here. He was obviously skeptical of letting me go anywhere alone, so we compromised and he said he’d wait outside in the car.”
Ned wasted no time in hopping off his barstool and sprinting for the living room windows. The blinds shook as he peered through them. “Tony Stark is in Queens? And parked outside of my apartment?”
“Don’t worry, Ned. He’s running low profile right now. He came in the Volvo, not the Maserati.”
Michelle snorted. “Yeah. Real low profile.”
The blinds trembled. “His headlights are so bright. It’s like he drove that thing right off the lot.”
“He did,” Peter said. “He purchased that one a few weeks before I came to Midtown. He wanted a car with advanced safety features but didn’t feel like building one himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else to transport me. Apparently, I’m worth a lot of money.”
Michelle tried to imagine Stark driving Peter to school each morning, telling him to have a good day and handing him a lunch box and thermos before leaving him at the parent drop-off line. It was almost impossible to picture the man being paternal, even toward a robot.
Getting to talk to Peter was nice, getting to see that he was alright, but Michelle’s patience was wearing thin. “Why didn’t you just wait until Monday at school to tell us you were back? Why show up now?”
Michelle saw Ned turn away from the window in her peripheral vision. He was tuned into the conversation now, just as curious as her.
Peter wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Because… I know you don’t like when I make a scene. I wanted to give you a chance to see me before everyone else did. So you wouldn’t be caught off guard.”
Michelle doesn’t like me very much. I didn’t want to bother her.
“And because I figured you’d tell Ned what happened, and I wanted him to know I was okay.”
Peter didn’t seem to think much of his words, but for Michelle they felt like a punch to the gut. Another reminder of her temper and lack of decorum when facing anything new or uncomfortable.
“Hey, man, I appreciate the heads up.” Ned was back in the kitchen and giving Peter a firm pat on the shoulder. Peter didn’t seem to know what to do with that, but he smiled nonetheless. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Michelle’s words were firmly lodged in her throat. Seeing Peter in front of her alive and well— more like activated and well— settled something within her. The last forty-eight hours or so had been unexpectedly stressful.
“How about you stay with us tonight? We don’t have school tomorrow. A-and we’re caught up on Invincible now but I’m sure we could find something else to watch? We’ve been meaning to watch Terminator for ages now…” Ned‘s wandering eyes finally landed on Peter and upon seeing the bashful look on his friend’s face, he quickly tried to backtrack. “You know, maybe that’s in poor taste. There are other options—“
“I really appreciate the offer,” Peter interrupted, saving Ned from his own rambling. “But Mr. Stark’s outside. And I don’t want to intrude.”
Michelle tried to ignore the way Peter’s gaze shot toward her and away just as fast. He was worried about bothering her. Worried that she’d hated him from the start, and that she might think he was moving in on her best friend by partaking in their weekly movie night.
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Michelle said, trying her best to seem nonchalant. Because yes, Peter being here might make things a little more awkward than usual, but damn if she wasn’t going to try and fix whatever behavior she’d displayed at school to make Peter’s code write her as something to be wary of. She didn’t mind a little intimidation in some cases. It was nice to have sway in situations where respect and reputation were important.
Peter was not one of those situations. He was an Android with evolving code and somehow, she was going to force it to rewrite itself.
Michelle slid her phone out of her pocket and opened the dial pad screen. “Call Stark and ask if you can stay. I’m sure Ned or I have some clothes you can borrow. And he can come get you in the morning. Hell, he can park outside all night if he wants. Maybe send some sniper drones to hover outside the windows in case one of us threatens you. Right, Ned?”
“My mom might not be super happy about sniper drones—“
Michelle gave him a look and Ned recomposes himself. “But totally, Pete. Call Stark. We’d love to have you here.”
Peter timidly took the phone from Michelle’s hand and stared at the organized numbers on the screen. “I mean, it would be invaluable to my social programming, an out of school experience like this. He’ll let me stay. I think. Right?”
It took almost ten minutes of Peter using his big smart robot words and quite a bit of unintelligible shouting from Stark, but he did end up letting Peter stay the night.
Despite the awkward start, the night went way better than expected. Michelle, Peter and Ned planted themselves in front of the television and tore through an entire season of Bob’s Burgers. Ned insisted it was “intellectually stimulating” and “a cultural staple” and by the end of it, Peter seemed to agree. Louise was his favorite character, which was concerning on so many levels.
Ned decided he was whooped an episode into season two, and considering that sunrise was only a few hours away, everyone agreed that maybe it was time to call it a night.
Ned and Michelle went about their normal routines, Ned grabbing some spare pillows and blankets from the hall closet so she could build herself a makeshift bed on the sofa. Ned usually slept in his own room and was on his way there before both him and Michelle realized that they’d forgotten about Peter, who looked to be at a complete and total loss for what to do.
“Uh,” he said, standing in the middle of the living room sofa with his arms at his sides. “Is there somewhere specific you’d like me to go for the night?”
Ned looked contemplative. “I’ve got a sleeping bag in my closet, I think. I could always get that down for you? And I guess you could stay on the floor in my room, if you want, but the rug in here might be more comfortable.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, Ned. But I don’t really need any of that.”
“You don’t? Why not?”
Peter looked sheepish. “I don’t sleep.”
Ned’s eyes widened. Michelle thought they might pop right out of his head if he didn’t stop looking so surprised all the time. “Oh! Right, that-that makes sense. So what do you do, then?”
Peter scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess I can sleep? Sort of? It’s more like entering Rest Mode. I power down but don’t shut down completely. It keeps my biocomponents from working hard when they don’t need to be.”
“And you don’t need to lay down or anything?”
“Nope. I could do it right here if I wanted to. Though it wouldn’t be great for my—”
“God, please don’t.” Michelle was already getting comfortable on the couch, pillows propping her head up and the same fluffy quilt she always used when she stayed at Ned’s house tugged up to her chin. “I won’t be able to sleep with you standing there all menacing-like. Stay in Ned’s room.” Michelle winced at the harsh tone of her words. “Please,” she added to try and soften the blow. “I’d hate for Ned’s parents to come home from visiting family upstate and find a random kid asleep in the kitchen standing up like some sort of demented horse.” Wow, Michelle. Great job softening the blow there. Idiot.
Peter didn’t look offended, though. Just shrugged. “Fair point. I’ll take that sleeping bag on your floor, Ned. If you don’t mind.”
The two boys made their way down the hall, Ned waving a quick goodbye to Michelle before disappearing into his room. Peter lagged behind a little. He stood just beyond the hallway but was facing her. He looked like he had something to say.
“Goodnight,” he said simply, waving with a hoodie-clad hand. Stark insisted on Peter having a change of clothes for some reason, despite the fact that his regular clothes were, at least in appearance, very clean. Ned loaned him sweatpants and Michelle offered up a souvenir sweatshirt from last year’s MoMA field trip. It was oversized in the first place but Peter was a bit shorter than her, so the torso sagged minutely and the sleeves almost passed his fingertips.
“Night, Peter.”
Then he was gone, and Michelle was alone in the darkness of Ned’s living room. It had never seemed lonely before, but knowing she was in there while Ned and Peter got to hang out alone brought to surface a fear of missing out that Michelle didn’t think she was capable of.
Luckily she didn’t need to try and stifle the feelings for long. Not even twenty minutes after the boys went to bed Michelle’s phone buzzed with a text from Peter. (Stark forced him to get his phone from the car and keep in constant contact. Why did Peter even need a phone? Couldn’t he send texts from his brain or something?)
Peter:
Ned snores.
Me:
Why do you think we sleep in different rooms?
Peter:
I figured Mr. and Mrs.Leeds wouldn’t be a fan of you guys sleeping in the same room.
Me:
I spend more time with the Leeds family than I do with my own. They know it’s not like that.
Peter:
Fair enough.
Three dots appeared on the screen, text bubble bouncing with an incoming message, then disappeared.
Peter:
Do you think they would like me?
Peter:
Ned’s parents.
The question caught Michelle off guard. This was Peter’s first time hanging out with people in a non-educational setting, and he was already worried about winning the approval of Ned’s parents? Michelle knew Peter was wired to learn and adapt in new situations, but something as complex as earning the favor of a friend’s parents seemed way out of the realm of things Peter’s code would account for.
It was Michelle’s turn to type and delete her message over and over. What was she supposed to say? She had no idea how Ned’s parents would take to him befriending a machine, much less a machine that was self aware enough to worry about the opinion of some distant people it hasn’t even met yet.
A machine that was self aware.
A machine that was self aware.
Peter was concerned about the opinions of others and claimed to like or dislike certain actions performed toward him. He had been toeing the line with Michelle for days, actively trying to behave in ways that wouldn’t upset her.
Worry about abstract concepts or theoretical situations. Empathy; the understanding of and ability to share the emotions of someone else. Human emotions.
Peter was feeling human emotions.
Me:
Everyone likes you, Peter.
Needless to say, everyone was excited to see Peter on Monday. He was bombarded with questions about where he’d gone, if he was okay, if he’d be leaving again. Flash asked if Stark upgraded him with missiles that depoy from the tips of his fingers. Peter was polite as he denied everyone’s outlandish questions and claims and told them he’d just been taken for some software checks. Machines aren’t always perfect, he claimed. Machines are built by people, and people make mistakes. Mr. Stark just thought I could use some fine tuning. But I’m all good.
He didn’t tell anyone what really happened; Michelle didn’t ask him to keep it a secret, so the way he skillfully skated around everyone’s inquisitions both surprised and impressed her. Whether or not he did it to spare her the embarrassment or hide his own vulnerability, she didn’t know. But by the end of the school day most people had stopped badgering him about it and went back to treating him like the Gen Z Robot Celebrity he was.
It felt good to have him back. Felt...Right. It took her almost two weeks to realize it, but in the days that followed, Michelle realized Peter might have been the companion she’d been looking for all these years. That wasn’t to say Ned meant nothing; Ned meant everything. Ned was cheerful and kind and supportive and nerdy and Ned. A sturdy cliff over a raging sea. He’d always been there for Michelle to crash into.
But while Ned was a cliff, Peter was the beach. Ever-present, but flexible. Constantly changing. Adapting to Michelle’s own rises and falls. Never complaining when she was cold and brooding or getting annoyed on the days when something was exciting her and she literally couldn’t shut up. (It’s like all the words she didn’t say on those quiet days just piled up and spilled out). He stood there and smiled, or formulated some awkward but endearing response, or nodded along with a determined look on his face. Peter wasn’t a kiss-ass, exactly, but most of the emotions he showed (or was programmed to show, Michelle was starting to have a hard time telling which ones were code and which ones were preternatural) were emotions that complimented her own.
So it surprised Michelle when, on day thirty-one of their companionship agreement, Peter met her at her locker before class like he always did and looked wholly and truly unhappy.
“Hey, Pete,” Michelle said over her shoulder, not actually seeing his approach but recognizing the way his New Balances squeaked on the hallway floor. Peter didn’t respond to her greeting but Michelle knew it wasn’t out of malice. He often got distracted as he waved to friends walking to their own classes, and sometimes Michelle had to physically drag him away. His friendliness was almost a superpower. If he really wanted to, Michelle figured he could probably stick himself to the floor and become an immovable force if it meant he’d have time to socialize.
Books in hand, Michelle shut her locker with her foot and bumped Peter with her shoulder. “Peter? You good?”
It took him a full seven seconds to pull his eyes away from whatever he’d been staring at, some invisible entity over Michelle’s shoulder. Now that his face was on full display, Michelle realized how...not okay he looked. She didn’t even realize people-shaped machines could look as haggard as Peter did.
The artificial skin beneath his eyes seemed sunken, like he hadn’t slept. His hair was flat and matted to the side as if he’d been laying on it and forgot to brush it out. Yesterday’s collared shirt and crewneck were still on, as were the jogger-style khakis he’d worn with it. But his collar was flipped up on one side, and his sweater was stretched out in that way that clothes get after you’ve worn them and they need to be washed.
“Why do you look like you slept at the school last night?”
“Because I slept at the school last night.”
“What? Seriously?”
Peter sighed, and Michelle knew it was for dramatic effect because Peter didn’t need to breathe. “Seriously.”
“But Stark picks you up every day and takes you back to the tower himself--”
“Well he didn’t last night.”
“--And you don’t sleep.”
Peter’s eyes flitted to her and away from her just as fast. The thin lids above each were barely at half mast, like the mechanisms in his face couldn’t hold them open all the way. “He had to fly out in the middle of the day yesterday for a business meeting in Hong Kong. He said he’d be back to get me today, but I had to sleep on a cot in the nurse’s office here.”
“Couldn't you have just… slept standing up?”
“Technically, yeah. But laying down is easier on my biocomponents. Gives my thirium pump a chance to not work as hard for a while.”
“That’s so gross.”
“You’re the one that asked.”
“Whatever. You look like shit. Let’s go to class.”
Michelle didn’t know what she’d expected from her and Peter’s last official day together. Goodbyes? Solemn jokes? No hugging, because Michelle established early on that Peter was not allowed to hug her. But she felt like he’d be the type to try anyways.
Whatever the expectation had been, it wasn’t Peter moping around in silence. He didn’t raise his hand once during chemistry. Betty told him a joke in English and he didn’t laugh, just offered a sad sort of half smile. He tripped over his own foot in gym class while they were running the mile and landed flat on his face. Michelle freaked out for a minute, but Peter just dusted the dirt off his nose and reminded her that his skull was made of titanium.
It was time for an intervention when Ned initiated his and Peter’s ridiculously complex handshake,and Peter was so lazy with it that during the portion where they’re supposed to connect thumbs and flap their hands like bird wings, Peter’s fingers barely lined up with his forehead.
“Okay,” Michelle said at lunch after several minutes of watching Peter stare into his soup. “I can’t take it. What crawled up your artificial ass and died?”
Peter flinched back as if Michelle’s vulgar analogy had shocked him. “I told you, I had to--”
“Don’t give me that crap about having to sleep at school. We all have rough days. Something is wrong with you, Peter. Tell me what it is.”
Peter gave his potato soup an overly aggressive stir and some of it spilled over the sides of the container and onto the table. “Today is your last day as my student companion.”
“That’s correct.”
“After today, we won’t be together anymore.”
Michelle considered the statement. “I mean, you’ll still be at Midtown. They’re just gonna switch up your class schedule so you get some independence. Congrats! You don’t have to deal with me and our empty lunch table anymore.”
Peter frowned and surveyed the cafeteria, then their usual table. Michelle, Peter, and his spilled soup were the only occupants. “But I like our empty lunch table.”
“This is a good thing, Peter. We both get our lives back. Don’t you want that?”
“This is my life!”
Peter had never yelled before. Michelle hadn’t even known he was capable of it.
The entire lunch room was startled. Everyone was staring.
“Peter it’s okay--”
“No, MJ, it’s not.” He’d never called her MJ before. Michelle couldn’t find it in herself to be mad about it. “I know you didn’t want to be stuck with me. I know you’ve hated me from the start. That’s fine. I didn’t come here expecting to be anyone’s favorite, much less anyone’s friend.”
Michelle saw Betty Brant approaching from the corner of her eye, lunch tray in hand and a worried look on her face, probably to try and diffuse the situation, but Michelle waved her back to her seat. Whatever Peter was venting about, it was directed at Michelle. No one else needed to get involved.
Peter didn’t seem to notice. “And yes, thirty one days is just a month, just a stretch of time you had to get through before dropping me off in Morita’s office and forgetting about me. But that’s not all it was to me! That’s my entire life! My memory goes back exactly four weeks, MJ! My entire existence literally revolves around you! Without this assignment, I wouldn’t even be activated! I’d be hooked up to some electrodes in Stark’s basement or something, as lifeless as I was before they coded me.”
Peter grabbed his lunch tray and notebooks. He situated everything in his arms as best he could in his rush to dart from the lunch room, but he managed to tip some soup onto the sleeve of his shirt in the process. He’d deposited his tray on the return pile and was almost out of the lunch room before he turned around and said, “So sorry if I’m not as okay with all of this as you are. Some of us have feelings. Even if we aren’t supposed to.”
The bell rang on the overhead speakers, and the cafeteria’s silent spell was broken by students rushing to dispose of their leftovers and get back to class. Michelle usually tried to wait out the crowd by staying seated until the place cleared out. Mr. Harrington never cared if she walked into class late. But Peter was already gone and running to who knows where, and if she didn’t chase him she might lose him for good.
She ignored all the shoulders she bumped and toes she stomped as she speed-walked down the hall, not running solely so a teacher wouldn’t stop her and waste precious seconds Peter could use to hide or escape entirely. After a couple minutes of pacing the main hallways and not seeing anything, Michelle was starting to worry that she’d really and truly fucked up this time.
Then her phone dinged in her pocket, and Michelle thanked every god and deity out there that Stark had forced Peter to join Life360, and gave Michelle administrator privileges so she wouldn’t ever lose track of him.
She almost dropped her phone in her haste to check her notifications. The top alert informed her that Peter had left Midtown property and was now making his way toward the bus station down the block.
“Shit. Shit shit shit!” The front doors of the school slammed against the interior walls as Michelle forced them open, giving up on being subtle and breaking into a full sprint down the front steps.
She ran to and from the bus station all the time. (Michelle was no stranger to waking up late and booking it to class). She could do it. She had to do it. Because no matter how independent Peter seemed, the New York public transportation system was not the place to test his capabilities.
Few people bothered looking at Michelle as her boots slapped the sidewalk, but she did get a few curious glances when she ground to a halt in the middle of a crosswalk and shouted to a brown haired boy on the other side of the road. “ Peter!”
A few car horns honked behind her and she waved at them lazily. Pedestrians always had the right of way; they could wait. Plus, a girl standing in the middle of the street and shouting to a guy who was obviously running away from her was hardly the weirdest thing to happen in Manhattan.
Peter glanced over his shoulder. “Michelle? Get out of the road!”
Another car honked. Michelle flipped them off. “Peter, get back here! Stark will freak out if something else happens to you!”
Peter scoffed. It was an oddly harsh thing to see on his usually soft features. “Of course all you care about is not getting in trouble. You don’t actually care what happens to me.”
Michelle took a step forward and halted, still in the middle of the road and a ways away from the sidewalk, needing to close some of the distance between them but not wanting to provoke him. He still had the advantage; if she wasn’t careful, he’d take off. “I do, Peter. I do care what happens to you! Lots of people do! C’mon, come back to school. We can still make it to class, I think Harrington will let us off the hook--”
Sirens sounded somewhere down the road, mixing in with the shouts and honking of aggravated drivers. A few cars gave up on waiting and swerved around her.
Peter suddenly looked frightened. “Michelle, get out of the road!”
She stifled her own unease and kept her voice firm, but did take a couple more steps before halting again. “It’s true. I didn’t like you at first. I hated the idea of being followed around by a mindless machine. It creeped me out. But then I actually met you! And you were friendly, and you liked telling corny jokes, and you and Ned made a dumn handshake, and I realized I was totally wrong!”
The honking grew louder. Peter gave up on acting tough and reached out a hand, but he was too far to grab her. “Please, MJ, you have to move!”
The sirens were increasing in intensity. Were the emergency vehicles coming down this road?
A few more cars darted behind her. “I’m so glad I met you, Peter. I’m glad we got to spend an entire month together, and if you want, I can ask for them to keep you in my classes! Because you’re my friend, and I’ll be damned if I let a man like Tony Stark determine what’s best for us--”
Peter’s patience must have worn thin, because he leapt forward and wrapped his hand around Michelle’s wrist with a speed Michelle didn’t think was possible for a human, much less a robot.
Several things happened at once.
The sirens were blaring, the sound reaching a crescendo as Michelle felt Peter throw his weight sideways and use the momentum of his spin to fling her onto the sidewalk. She landed hard on her knees. The skin scraped through the denim of her pants.
A mass of messy brown hair was visible a few feet away. Michelle crawled forward. Any air residing in her lungs was sucked out in one fail swoop.
Peter was lying on the side of the road where the crosswalk met the curb, out of the way of oncoming traffic but not exactly in the safe zone, apparently flung there by the cop car that sped down the road and clipped his left side.
He coughed. The sound came out choked and wet.
“P-Peter?”
He tilted his head back to look at her. His left eye was shut. Cobalt blue thirium dripped down his temple where the artificial skin just above his hairline broke against the corner of the curb.
Something sparked under his empty shirt sleeve. Wires and loose tendons stuck out through holes in the fabric. Artificial veins deposited a steady stream of thirium into a puddle beneath his shoulder.
His arm was lying in the middle of the road. Michelle watched a cab run over it. She might have screamed. She didn’t know.
“MJ,” Peter said in an exhale.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Peter.”
His left leg was bent the wrong way.
“I don’t think Mr. Stark gave me working neurons,” Peter choked out, “B-butut I imagine this is what pain feels like. A pretty human way to go, huh?”
Michelle barely heard him. She was too focused on the thirum dribbling down from inside his mouth and onto his chin. She brushed some hair away from his forehead but stalled when her fingers came away covered in sticky blue. “You’re not...You’re fine. This is fine.”
Someone on the sidewalk saw Peter and screamed.
“You’ve gotta shut me down, MJ. I’m freaking people out.”
“You pulled me out of the road. Why did you pull me out of the road?”
“Because if I didn’t, you would be the one lying here.”
“Stark told us at the assembly that we couldn’t trust you to act rationally in emergency situations. That we were just supposed to shut you down, because you might interfere and mess things up.”
“I didn’t mess this one up.” His one working eye blinked up at her. He was upside down from this angle, Michelle leaned over him with a hunched back and her hands on the sides of his face, but she subconsciously knew that his curved lips weren’t making a frown. “You know the emergency code, right?”
“I’m not shutting you down, Peter, I--”
“ Holy shit! That kid got hit by a car! Someone call an ambulance!”
Michelle broke her focus long enough to turn to the pedestrian and yell, “It won’t help! Just shut up for a minute!” She swung back to Peter. “There’s gotta be something else we can do. You got shut down once, it can’t happen again.”
Peter shook his head. Something misfired in his damaged wiring and full body tremor shook him from head to toe. “It’s the only way to save...save the...save the data…” His voice took on that same monotone, robotic twinge he’d developed after losing too much thirium the first time. His operating systems were shutting down. “Do it now, or Stark will have to reboot and start from scratch.”
“Which means--”
“--I’ll forget everything.” Michelle watched the way he struggled to swallow. “I d-don’t wanna forget you, MJ. Please. Shut me down.”
There was something wet on Michelle’s face. It had been a long time since she cried; it took her a second to realize the salty tracks were tears. “Aren’t you scared?”
“It’s...It’s sort of like falling asleep.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah, yeah. I’m pretty scared. Nobody likes it when things go dark.” His left eye finally gave out and the lid slid down to meet his lower lash line. He would have looked peaceful if the rest of him wasn’t such a mess. “But I’m even more scared of being reprogrammed. So just say it, Michelle. Please. I can’t accept my own vocal commands.”
Michelle leaned back on her knees and looked at Peter. Really looked at him. The eyes she’d originally thought were so lifeless, so empty, weren’t even visible now. The spattering of freckles across his nose stood out against the pallor of his cheeks.His lips were thin and pink and set in a hard line.
She wouldn’t be making it to Mr. Harrington’s history class today. Or tomorrow, probably. No matter how fast she ran, she wouldn’t outrun this.
Thirty one days. They’d had thirty one days together before her reckless words messed it up.
The one person she’d met who liked her, put up with her, understood her.
She’d hated the sight of him that day in Morita’s office. But now, now, she would stare at him all day if she could, just so no one could take him away from her. Because that was Michelle’s friend lying bleeding and broken on the side of the road.
She was dragging out her own suffering. Peter didn’t deserve the same torture.
“Peter.”
His head twitched in her direction. HIs eyes still didn’t open.
“Initiate Command Code P911.”