"You're really going to do this to me? After everything I've done for you?" He hadn't noticed yet. If he had, he wouldn't have kept ranting and raving at her.
But what couldn't have escaped his notice was Mary Jane stumbling backwards like a thing possessed. The carpet had snagged the obnoxiously high heel of her boot, resulting in her sitting there on her butt, gaping up at him like a dead fish.
Mary Jane tried to speak, shout a warning or something, but she couldn't. Her throat was too tight and her mouth was too dry. He was sucking the moisture out the air.
"If you'd started drinking again, I'd have been there for you." Mark took another step towards her.
Mary Jane managed a whimper.
Maybe that's what finally clued him in – well, that or his shirt spontaneously combusting. There was a scream, though Mary Jane wasn't sure which of them it came from, and then Mark's t-shirt was eaten away, revealing the golden chest underneath. Like a disease, the gold traveled out until his whole body was covered, until every last scrap of clothing was burned away. This was followed by the crackling of fire, the roar of smoke detectors, and an unusually high voice crying, "No! Not again! Not now!"
A field of flame formed at Mark's molten toes, spreading out across the room as if it was exploring the landmarks. The fire explored the curtains Mary Jane had spent half an hour picking out, the kitchen cabinets filled with carefully-organized foodstuffs, the crack under the door leading to the bedroom where all Mary Jane's personal belongings resided, and then, finally, it seemed to take an interest in Mary Jane herself.
The blaze darted towards her across the rug. It was enough to make something inside Mary Jane snap – Next thing she knew, she was back on her feet and hurtling out the front door, clutching her purse to herself like it was an organ threatening to tumble out her chest cavity.
"Mary Jane? Mary Jane, wait-" Even once she reached the staircase outside, his voice was right behind her. What the-? What was he doing?
Mary Jane risked a peek over her shoulder as she fled. There he was, chasing after her, burning holes through the stairs with every step. She only looked for a second before returning her attention to running like hell, but the image was so surreal, it'd stay with her the rest of her life. There were no fireproof pants this time – Mark looked like an orange Doctor Manhattan.
They'd only lived a couple stories up, meaning Mary Jane reached the sidewalk in a matter of seconds. She tore down it with a speed she hadn't known she was capable of, pushing startled pedestrians out of her way. There was already a half-formed plan in her pounding head. Their apartment complex was right by a park. A park with a tiny pond.
She was almost there already. Almost to safety. It was mere feet away. The grass was right in front of her.
"You can't leave me! Mary Jane, please, I'm not gonna hurt y-" A jet of lava spewed out past Mary Jane's shoulder, and the next instant, the grass was ablaze. "I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to do that."
Now there was a wall of flame blocking the sidewalk, several feet tall and several more yards wide. With no other choice, Mary Jane spun back around.
A few more strides, and Mark would be close enough to touch her. And yet Mary Jane couldn't move. She couldn't make herself move. Well, except to hyperventilate.
"That's it, Mary Jane. Don't leave." Mark stepped towards her, his hair writhing with flames. "I'm here. It's me. It's still me." He held out his palms.
But then a disheartening crack hit Mary Jane's ears, prompting her to look skyward. Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. A big old maple tree had caught fire right at the park's edge, turning its every leaf into a torch.
The trunk swayed forward.
"Mary Jane, look out!" Mark helpfully screamed. The moment he did, though, more lava shot from his hands, creating distressingly large puddles on either side of her.
With no other option, Mary Jane sprinted forward, but the tree was so tall, and- and it was falling so fast… She didn't know if she could get out of the way before-
Wham. The tree hit the pavement with the force of a mousetrap. Even without the fire, it would've done a number on her… had Mary Jane actually remained in its path, that is.
"Huh? What?" For a moment, the wind was in her hair, and then MJ was being deposited on solid ground by a guy in some familiar spandex. "Tiger!"
"I'm not gonna look, I'm not gonna look, I'm not gonna look…" Spider-Man's head was pointed conspicuously away from Mark's shiny gold body.
The moment she was free, Mary Jane hurried off down the street. She put a good couple feet between herself and the battle, but… she couldn't help but stay in earshot.
"Spider-Man!" she cried out. "Mark's not trying to hurt anyone – He's just freaking out. So, y'know, go easy on him."
"Don't worry," said Spidey. "You're not the only friend I've bumped into today." He gestured to the sidelines, where some guy in a labcoat was waiting anxiously. MJ had never seen him before in her life, but the number of arms in his possession left little doubt that this was Peter's and Gwen's old lab boss, Dr. Connors.
Thr guy surveyed the chaos with growing horror. The street had been torn up, families with children were fleeing the burning park, and a couple blocks away, firetrucks were nearing the apartment complex. Boy, had today gone from zero to a hundred.
"Mark!" Curt called out. "Listen to me! I believe the reason your body's producing heat again is because your armor's regeneration process has been overcharged by adrenaline."
"It can regenerate?" Mark stumbled back, scorching the ground with every step. "Are you kidding me?"
"You have to stop stimulating your sympathetic nervous system!"
"What?"
"He means you need to calm your tits!" said Spider-Man.
"Oh."
Curt gave a, well, curt nod. "Take deep breaths, Mark."
"I'll call Hulk," added Spidey, "see if he'll let you borrow his huge bag of weed."
Silly as this might've been, the deep breaths did seem to help Mark ease himself. After only a couple seconds, the pavement at his feet actually stopped melting, and he was able to sit in the middle of the street, legs folded (Any oncoming cars were, of course, sent swerving away at the first sign of molten lava). A minute into the impromptu meditation, Mark's luster died down, leaving his skin covered in dull, non-burning metal.
"Is- Is he okay?" Mary Jane thought it safe enough to rush to his side.
"He should be, now." Dr. Connors took another step forward. "Mark? I want you to know you haven't done anything wrong. This is my fault. I was reckless and- and sloppy." He bowed his head. "I made a terrible oversight, but I know how to fix it now. We can remove your armor properly this time, keep you under observation for longer-"
"So it's back to jail for me?" Mark's eyes glowed again, forcing him to take more breaths. "Perfect. Just what I needed."
"Mark." It was at this point that Mary Jane found herself stepping forward. "Can I…?"
"I-I think it's safe." At his words, Mary Jane risked drawing near him. She leaned in for a hug, but then Mark said, "Careful! Just cuz I'm not shooting lava doesn't mean I'm chilly."
"Sorry, sorry." Nevertheless, Mary Jane remained close enough that her voice wouldn't carry to the others. "Mark… Look, I can't even start to say how sorry I am this is happening to you, but… you'd be facing jail time even if you weren't Molten Man again."
"Are you serious?" Suddenly, Mark was talking through gritted teeth. "Everything that's happened, and you're still not dropping that?"
Mary Jane's brow creased. "You need help, Mark. Being molten isn't the only thing you relapsed on-"
"Don't you get why I went back to Gaxton?" Mark was, err, not quite as careful to keep his own voice from carrying. "You didn't have anywhere left to go, Mary Jane. You needed that apartment, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you." At the next sentence, he was back on his feet. "I love you. You know that."
"Ohhh." Mary Jane folded her arms "So you were scratching your gambling itch selflessly?"
"What? Ugh, why do you always have to be like this?" The space between their heads was shrinking. "I've done everything I can to make things better for you! Everything I know how to do, at least. Isn't that enough? For once in your life, why can't you let yourself actually be happy instead of just acting like it?"
Well, the first reason to spring to mind was that MJ's jacket had just caught fire. "Holy-!"
"Hey-!" This was more than enough to send the other two running towards her.
But by the time they got close, Mary Jane had already ripped the jacket off her shoulders so she could stomp out the flames with her heel.
The group stood a moment, gaping at her and Mark.
Spider-Man bowed his head. "…I looked."
Mary Jane's mouth was open, but she said nothing.
Mark, on the other hand, said just about everything. "Oh lord, Mary Jane, I'm sorry. You know that was an accident, babe. I'd never hurt you. I didn't mean any of it. Mary Jane, I love you. I need you. I'm nothing without you. Please, you can't do this to me…" And on and on and on he went.
Mary Jane stood in place, shivering in her short-sleeve shirt. Slowly, she looked to the molten man standing before her, then to the spider one standing behind her.
Those big, white eyes stayed fixed on her.
"Mark." Mary Jane wet her throat. She knew he was red hot, and yet some reptilian part of her brain still insisted that she wanted nothing more than to feel those arms around her again. If she could simply let him hold her, it'd all be okay. "I'm sorry…" Without meaning to, she dug her nails into her palms. "…but I've been burned one time too many."
Mark's raving came to a halt. Then he watched with his golden, quivering eyes as Mary Jane trudged over to the others, retrieving a scrap of paper from her purse.
"Betting slip," Mary Jane said, lifeless. "From horse racing. That's what started this."
"You bitch!" Oh, looked like Mark had found his voice again. "Couldn't resist twisting the knife, could you?"
"Your sympathetic nervous system, Mark!" Curt was sent scrambling towards him. "Your sympathetic nervous system!"
One phone call later, and a taxi cab was hurrying towards the scene, out of which emerged a frantic Liz. Gwen arrived a minute later, though in lieu of a cab, she'd opted to make herself extremely out of breath. The girls arrived right in time to see the NYPD's metahuman response team haul off Molten Man while Dr. Connors supervised.
After that, Gwen, Peter, Liz, and Mary Jane gathered outside the apartment complex, watching the firefighters do their thing from a safe distance (Peter had, of course, changed back into his civvies by now).
The four of them stood there beneath the wafting smoke and squirting hoses. Eventually, though, Liz said, "Thanks for being here, Petey- Peter. That means a lot to me."
The two shared a hug – though Peter was scared they might burst into flame from the resulting look on Gwen's face. Still, though, it was good to finally bury the hatchet. Peter guessed having your brother turn into a lava-spewing monster really put the teen love drama in perspective.
The moment Peter was free of Liz's grasp, Gwen wrapped herself around his arm. He had to shake the mental image of a dog marking its territory.
"Well, I'd better get going. I've got a heck of lot to tell my dad…" With that, Liz walked off, blending into the surrounding crowd.
Now it was just the blonde, brunette, and redhead. Behind the redhead's back, the blonde and brunette locked eyes a moment.
"Mary Jane," Gwen began, "we're sorry. We can't imagine what you're going through."
Peter nodded. "If there's anything we can do to-"
"Going through?"
Boyfriend and girlfriend jolted – Laughter had hit their ears. Gwen was surprised, but maybe she shouldn't have been. This was Mary Jane, after all.
"C'mon, I've broken a million guys' hearts." MJ had a hand slung on each of their shoulders. "I'm totally desensitized."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "We were talking about your apartment catching fire."
"Plus you almost burning to death," added Peter.
"Oh, right. That." Mary Jane merely shrugged. "But I didn't burn to death, and there was nothing in that apartment but stuff. I don't even have any pets – unless you count Seymour."
"Well, we're… glad you're okay," Gwen said slowly.
"Aww, you guys are sweet." Mary Jane's hands remained in place a moment longer before she freed them. "Oh, and thanks for the save, Tiger."
"Everybody gets one," Peter said with a hint of a smirk.
"What do you think's gonna happen to Mark, though?" asked Gwen. "He's old enough to be tried as an adult now, isn't he?"
"Don't know, don't care," said MJ. "Someone else's problem now. I know I say I'm a free agent a lot, but I mean it this time."
"And you don't think Mark'll bother you again?" asked Peter.
MJ waved a hand. "Eh, nothing a restraining order can't fix."
"Yeah, well-" Gwen put her arms around Mary Jane, and Peter followed suit. "-you're still short one apartment. Mark could've picked a better time to turn molten again."
"Hey, he didn't pick the worst time," said MJ. "This could've ended up like The Miller's Tale…"
"I'm gonna pretend I don't get that reference," said Peter.
Gwen gave MJ a frown. "But where are you going to live now?"
"Ah, don't sweat it." MJ held out a palm. "I'll figure something out."
Mary Jane rolled over on the Parker household couch, her chest rising and falling. You'd think she wouldn't be looking her best at this hour, dressed in a baggy green shirt and black sweatpants borrowed from Gwen, not a drop of makeup on her skin, and yet paradoxically, she was gorgeous as ever. Her messy red hair fell over her face so perfectly, Peter would swear a team of artists had spent hours positioning it, but then Mary Jane rolled over again, and her hair fell into a different, equally perfect configuration in a matter of seconds. All in all, Mary Jane's bedtime outfit was this weird mix of sexy and quirky without ever quite looking cute the way Gwen's did. Even MJ's snores sounded oddly alluring. It was like the girl was physically immune to being ugly. Heck, she was immune to being homely.
Not that Peter was giving it much thought or anything. He hurried past the living room couch on his way to the shower, a towel slung over his shoulder.
"Morning, Tiger."
But a sudden voice left him frozen in the doorway. "O-Oh, MJ! Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Peter turned to find Mary Jane belly-up on the cushions.
"It's cool." She slung her arm over the edge so her hand could fumble blindly for something on the carpet – some kinda round, black, rigid fabric thingy scrunched up in a pile by the couch. Peter's groggy mind wondered what it could be. "Hey, you wanna turn around a sec?"
Oh.
"Right, right!" One nanosecond later, Peter's eyes were planted firmly on the opposite wall. There was a potted plant leaned against that wall. It was such a great plant. That was literally the only thing Peter was thinking about right now.
"Okay, you can look."
What the-? He spun back around a bit faster than he'd meant to. How had she done that so fast? Had she put it on without taking off her shirt? Was that even anatomically possible? Peter spent the next several seconds pondering that dilemma in, err, maybe a bit more depth than it required.
"I ever tell you you've got the most chill aunt on the planet?" Mary Jane hopped to her feet, stretched, yawned, and adjusted her shirt. "I mean, if I asked to let a guy crash at Aunt A's house while she wasn't there, she'd go nuclear."
"Well, I think Aunt May's glad to have an adult here to keep an eye on us." Peter's mouth was dry as a bone. Because he'd just woken up.
"Oh my god, these are amazing," Mary Jane said through a mouthful of scrambled egg. She swallowed, then leaned forward, elbows on the table, and grinned like a maniac. Sheesh, and Peter had thought Harry had been a walking commercial for happy.
At the other end of the table, Peter locked eyes with Gwen. It was hard to tell beneath that big blonde fuzzball where her silky hair usually was, but she seemed to be mirroring Peter's expression.
Gwen glanced back at MJ, a frying pan in her hand. "When was the last time you ate?"
MJ shrugged. "I forget to, is all."
"Well, it'll certainly be, err, interesting to have you around," said Gwen. "I know your aunt doesn't have the space anymore, and-"
"-and the apartment wasn't insured by those Damage Control guys or anything, so it's gonna take a bazillion years before it gets fixed," cut in Mary Jane. "I should know – I spent all of last afternoon on the phone about it." From her face, the mere memory threatened to bore her to death. "So now I can't stay at my apartment and I can't stay with my aunt, meaning… this is the only place I got left. At least, the only one where I'm welcome." She returned to her eggs without another word.
"Hey, MJ?" Gwen stared at her own plate of eggs as she seated herself. "You sure you want to go to school today?"
"Um, yeah." MJ looked blank. "Why wouldn't I wanna go to-? Oh, wait, I totally forgot!" She gave a start. "My room got burnt to a crisp, so I don't have a backpack or textbooks or-" She faltered. "-or makeup or… phone chargers or… clothes…"
Back on their end of the table, the intensity of the glances Peter and Gwen were swapping increased tenfold.
"Well, then," said Peter, "guess we'll have to do something about that, won't we?"
As great as playing hooky was, Peter had to admit he hadn't ended up having quite as much fun as the last time he and MJ had gone to the mall, but then, maybe that was just because no giant scorpion-people had attacked today. Though this time, they'd been accompanied by Peter's beautiful blonde girlfriend, which made this the better experience by default.
The point of this mission had been to restock MJ's supply of personal possessions, but seeing as this was Mary Jane they were shopping with, they'd mostly ended up chasing her around the various department stores so they could watch her try on outfits. She'd kept asking if they looked good on her, and Peter and Gwen had kept nodding their heads truthfully.
And while Gwen wasn't a total tomboy, she was at least enough of one to get every bit as bored as Peter. But hey, this shopping trip was for Mary Jane's benefit. The important thing was, by the end of the day, that big old smile of hers had morphed into something a bit more natural. A nice, wholesome, organic smile.
"Heh… Bet the other kids are all trapped in chem right now." MJ strutted down the sidewalk ahead of the other two, a shopping bag in her hands. Gwen trailed behind her with a shopping bag of her own, and bringing up the rear was Peter, walking hunchbacked under the weight of a good dozen or so bags. Guess that was the trade-off for getting to be the superhero (This wasn't coming out of the Parker family budget, in case you were worried. MJ's insurance had at least covered this much).
Peter turned his head as they walked. Rockaway Beach was peeking over the horizon. Peter wasn't sure why he was watching it with such interest. If Sandman and Hydro-Man could respawn, they'd probably done it by now. But all this time, Peter hadn't heard a peep out of them, so either they'd left Manhattan, or…
"Hey, guys?" Mary Jane's voice returned Peter's attention to her. MJ had halted her march, then spun on her heels to face them. "Thanks for today. I needed this." She paused. "You two are the best. I mean that."
"You're wel-" Gwen began. But she didn't finish. She was too startled by the pair of lips on her cheek.
And a second later, those lips traveled to Peter's cheek, too. Then Mary Jane drew back, and the three of them merely stood there a moment.
"Race you to the subway!" And with that, MJ sped off down the sidewalk.
Peter and Gwen were left standing in place, touching their cheeks.
Next Up: Return of a GOBLIN?!
