AN ~ Firstly, I know everyone who is a steady reader of my fanfics are probably awfully sick of my doing songfics 80% of the time, but I really, really had to use this beautiful song. Pray you don't mind too much. enjoy ;-)
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My Grown-Up Christmas List
-dutchtulips-
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Puffy white snowflakes were lofting softly down onto the city and streets of New York, gathering small drifts at the roadside, melting against peoples' scarves, and sticking to tree branches, making them look like long, white fingers stretching out to passersby. Streets and sidewalks were busy with people to and from stores, trying to quickly finish up last-minute Christmas shopping. It was the eve of the twenty-third of December, and the buying frenzy was at a high.
Peter Parker was one among this massive throng, but he was doing no shopping of the sort. He had just been out for a walk, for some fresh air and away from the apartment that had been suffocating him. But upon meeting all of this Christmas festivity that was bustling up and down the city, it reminded him of the depression he was harboring about the holidays this year.
Kicking up puffs of snow, getting more frustrated with every step, Peter's veins were coursing with the thoughts of how lonely and hard it would be to celebrate Christmas this year. In truth, he truly had nothing to celebrate about. There was nothing for Peter to be happy for this season, absolutely nothing. Uncle Ben was still dead, Aunt May was still alone, Harry was still bitter, and Mary Jane was still heartbroken. Nothing ever changed. The pain wouldn't go away.
Taking in a breath of the freezy air, shutting off the thought, Peter tightened his scarf around his neck and continued through the snowy streets. Reaching the end of the sidewalk, he ducked under the overhang of the corner shop as he waited to cross to the next street. Glancing inside the store, he saw, through the wide glass window, a department store Santa Claus sitting, a warm smile visible in his white beard as the little girl seated in his lap was speaking happily to him.
Involuntarily, the sight caused a smile to come to Peter's face as he was reminded of his days being that age. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would take him to the department store, after days of Peter begging, so that he could sit on Santa's knee and ask him for all the most-desired toys he wanted that year.
Peter leaned up against the glass to watch a bit longer. It was like nostalgia; all of this children, so light-hearted and carefree, not a problem or a worry in the world, eager to jump up on Santa's lap and ask for the toys that would make them happy.
If only it were that easy.
In many ways, Peter still wanted to believe in Santa Claus; that there was this merry and selfless being that wanted nothing more than to see every person's wishes come true, and that he actually had the power to make it happen. Except that Peter knew that even Father Christmas didn't have enough magic to make everything all right for Peter. Life just wasn't that simple anymore.
As Peter continued to stare, he suddenly realized that the department store Santa had noticed him watching. The bearded man smiled at Peter and raised his gloved hand and waved to Peter. Weakly he smiled and waved back, suddenly wanting nothing more than to believe in Santa Claus again.
Do you remember me?
I sat upon your knee
I wrote to you
With childhood fantasies
Well I'm all grown-up now
And still need help somehow
I'm not a child, but my heart still can dream
Slowly Peter pushed himself away from the window and stepped back onto the curb again. Quickly he crossed the corner and started up the next street. As he did so though, Peter still couldn't push the previous thoughts out of his mind. What would I ask Santa for? How could I possibly word it? "Oh, hey there, Santa, Spider-man here. Would it be so much trouble if you might be able to make everyone stop being criminals who wreck up other peoples' lives?" He thought sardonically. I mean, I can only do so much. I try so hard. . .really, I do. . .I try and try and try. . .
So here's my lifelong wish
My grown-up Christmas list
Not for myself, but for a world in need
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list
The snow was coming down harder now, clinging to Peter's long black coat and scarf. Hastily he stopped to brush it off and, as he did so, noticed the gorgeous Christmas tree sitting in the window display of the store he was standing in front of, where underneath it was packed with a mass of exquisitely wrapped gifts. Slowly he stepped closer, placing his hands against the glass. It looked so much like another Christmas tree he knew once. . .
Stretching his tallest, extending his arms to the very top of the fir tree, Uncle Ben carefully slipped the star on the uppermost point on the Christmas tree, smiling grandly as he did so. Stepping back, he took a moment to admire the beautiful tree that the three of them had decorated together; the lovely tinsel, lights, and glass and ceramic ornaments - most which were family heirlooms - filling the whole room with Yuletide joy.
"So how does it look?" He asked the two people standing behind him.
"It's the best, Uncle Ben! The greatest!" ten-year-old Peter piped up excitedly.
Aunt May came up behind Uncle Ben sliding an arm around his waist. "Wonderful, Ben. We've really made the tree something to remember this year, haven't we?"
"We sure have," he smiled back. "So, who's up for some hot chocolate?"
"Me!" Peter exclaimed, rushing off to the kitchen ahead of his aunt and uncle. . . .
As Peter blinked back to the present, an old familiar feeling crawled up into the back of his throat, realizing he would never have a Christmas like that again.
And, clenching his hands, he thought ironically, Damn you, Spider-man.
As children we believed
The grandest sight to see
Was something lovely wrapped beneath our tree
Well Heaven surely knows
That packages and bows
Can never heal a hurting human soul
Peter sighed deeply as he walked on, trying to shove away the feelings but failing miserably. No one can fix this, he thought bitterly. Everything in my life is crumbled and broken forever. And the more I try to repair it all, the more destructed it becomes. Good old Saint Nick couldn't help me. It's not as if I can't even -
Abruptly his thoughts ceased, and so did his footsteps as he caught a glimmer of red hair in the crowd. Anxiously he turned around, to catch another glance at the passing woman - only to see that she was toting an infant boy along with her. Not Mary Jane. Peter picked up his pace again.
You know it's still there, he told himself. Just because you pushed her away that day last month - to keep her safe, away from all this - doesn't mean you can forget about her. It doesn't mean you can't just "stop" loving her. It's still there. It's not going to go away.
Crossing the next corner, Peter looked up to see a different familiar sight. The sparkling tip of a giant douglas fir was in the distance, beckoning Peter forward. Without giving it another moment's thought, he quickened his pace even more, fusing his eyes to the tree, which was slowly coming closer with every step.
Another block up he reached it, the large, tall Rockefeller Christmas tree twinkling in front of him, in its own medium-sized clearing. He came even closer, keeping his eyes trained on the awe-inspiring sight. Out of nowhere, he heard himself speaking softly as he stared at the tree.
"You know I don't deserve a Christmas," Peter said, not knowing quite who he was talking to. "Even though I've done a lot of good things. Many of them have brought only bad things along with them. I mean, Uncle Ben's dead because of me, Harry's bitter and broken because of me - because I killed his father. . .Aunt May was attacked because of me. . .and so was Mary Jane. . .all because of how careless I am. . ." His voice drifted off, and dropped even lower. "Truth is. . .I don't even deserve to live. Everyone's either dead, alone, or heartbroken because of what I've done. And I'd give anything to take that all back. Anything."
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list
Peter stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. "Yet, there's nothing I can give. Nothing I do will make everything right again. I even walked away from Mary Jane, thinking that it might right something I've wronged. . .but it hasn't helped me, because. . ." Peter felt that familiar aching feeling in his throat again, "I'm selfish scum. . .I still want her, I still love her, even though I can never have her."
"Peter?"
He swung round with a start, his heart climbing into his throat as he realized who it was. Mary Jane Watson was walking towards him, wrapped up in a purple scarf and a black fleece coat.
"M-Mary Jane," he breathed, stammering. "How did you know I was here?"
She came closer, her feet crunching in the snow. "I called your place, Harry said you were out for a walk. I took a chance you were around, and I found you here." M.J. brushed some snow off a bench nearer the tree, and dropped down on it.
Slowly Peter stepped forward, taking a deep breath and joining her on the bench. There was a heavy silence between the two of them for a moment, until Peter finally whispered, "I guess I just. . .I feel sort of lonely on Christmas this year."
"So do I," she whispered.
He looked up, meeting eyes with her. "Because of me?"
Chewing her lower lip, Mary Jane nodded.
Instinctively Peter reached up and affectionately tucked a loose lock of M.J.'s hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I did this to you. . .I'm so, so sorry. . ." He whispered.
She reached up and took Peter's hand inside both of her own, pressing it closely to the side of her face, where he could feel tears on her skin. "Can you answer me something, Peter?"
He swallowed, and nodded slowly. "I'll try."
"Well, I. . .I heard what you were saying, just a few moments ago. . .about how there was nothing you could give to make everything right again. . .even though you had tried everything. . .and, well. . ." She hesitated. "Were you talking about. . .about. . .well. . .Spider-man?"
Peter could only stare at her. "Oh, Mary Jane, I. . ."
Her hands tightened around his. "Are you, Peter? Are you. . .Spider-man?"
His heart was thumping so hard, Peter was surprised it hadn't exploded by now. He saw no way out of this. "Well, M.J. . .what - whatever you believe. . .is the truth."
Suddenly Mary Jane felt overcome with all of the emotions that were running through her. "So. . .does that mean you do love me, too? Because. . .well, I heard you say you were selfish because you still love me. . .even though you can't have me." She was on the verge of crying. "So you really do love me,. . .Spider-man?"
Peter's heart was swelling with all of the love he had for this woman, and suddenly he realized he didn't want the moment to end. "More than life."
What is this illusion called the innocence of youth?
Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth
And then, before he knew what was happening, Mary Jane had wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and kissed him warmly, deeply, deeper and more passionately than the kiss in the alley. . .than the kiss in graveyard. . .and suddenly not giving it a second thought, Peter let himself return the kiss, sliding his arms tight around M.J.'s slim figure, cherishing her, possessing her, breathing her.
At last, though, the kiss did end, with Mary Jane smiling at him, tears and snowflakes tumbling over her rosy cheeks. And that was all Peter needed. He snaked his arm around her waist and squeezed gently, feeling M.J. rest her head against his shoulder, humming some sort of song. When Peter glanced quizzically down at her, she sang to him the words.
"No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list. . ."
He smiled softly, and pulled her gently closer to him on the bench. "So then, did we each get what's on our list? Healed hearts, and a friend, and something right in the world - love?"
She reached up and put a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Yes, I think so."
"Well, then. . .Merry Christmas, Mary Jane," He whispered in her ear.
"Merry Christmas, Peter."
This is my only lifelong wish
This is my grown-up Christmas list.
el fin