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September 25, 2003

The headlines this morning were amazing.

"SPIDER-MAN SAVES TRAIN FULL OF PASSENGERS"

"SPIDER-MAN SAVES HUNDREDS OF LIVES AFTER DOC OCK SABOTAGES TRAIN"

"NEAR-TRAGEDY PREVENTED BY COSTUMED HERO"

The Daily Bugle is the only paper that didn't say something good…

"SPIDER-MAN AND DOC OCK SABOTAGE TRAIN, NEARLY CAUSE FATAL CRASH"

J. Jonah is an idiot.

I can't hardly… man, I can't even write about it. My mind is absolutely spinning. I'm still in shock, I guess.

September 30, 2003

My wedding dress arrived today. It was ordered specially from a fancy designer. It is a gorgeous dress… but my heart aches when I look at it.

John has been extra sweet lately. Just an adorable dear. He's hardly let me out of his sight… takes me to the theater every afternoon and picks me up at night. We've gone out for dinner every single night. He says he's afraid I'll be grabbed by another monster. My apartment is nearly overflowing with big gorgeous bouquets of roses. And in the middle of it all, a tiny, dried bouquet of forget-me-nots. I was afraid they wouldn't last long, so I dried them. And I'll keep them forever. I know where they came from.

Our wedding is a week away now. And the weather is behaving just beautifully. The trees are a rainbow of colors. I think fall is my favorite season. In another hour, John will be picking me up. We're going for a long ramble through Central Park, and then on to the theater for the evening performance. I'm surprised John isn't sick of seeing that play yet. He has it nearly as well memorized as I do. I've been getting him free tickets for the best spot in the theater and he sits there and beams at me the entire performance. He's been mobbed lately by the fans since everyone knows by now that he's "Miss Watson's fiance".

I think I'd be fine right now, if it wasn't for my dreams being haunted sometimes by a pair of deep blue eyes and other times by a figure in red and blue, no more than a passing blur as he swings past, always so far above me and so far away from me.

Oh, damn it. Who am I fooling? I'm not fine at all. I feel like I have a hole in my heart… and I'm just empty inside. It's strange how it gets to where I hardly feel pain anymore… I'm just numb about it. I can't hardly think… about anything. Because when I start thinking, that's when I get afraid. I can't even begin to imagine a life with John. That's… not how it should be. This should be the happiest time of my life. And I dread walking down the aisle. Dread saying "I do". At times I wonder if I really will be able to go through with it. I don't know. I don't even know what the heck I'm doing here. I'm a mess.

October 7, 2003

My wedding day was yesterday. And I suppose I should be Mrs. John Jameson by now.

But I'm not.

At the last moment, and I mean the Very. Last. Moment… I ran away. I just couldn't do it. I don't even know what I was thinking… I just… panicked… I left a note for John and ran. Literally ran, in my wedding dress and heels, from the church, across Central Park, down the sidewalk, all the eight blocks to a dingy little apartment building on the lower east side of Manhattan. I ran through the door, past a very surprised, very tall, very scrawny girl who looked at me like I was crazy, and all the way up five flights of stairs to stand in Peter Parker's doorway.

He had left the door wide open and he was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. I just stood there and waited… and he turned around, with such a look in his eyes that I've never seen before.

"Had to do what I had to do," I told him. "I can't survive without you." And I meant it with all my heart.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. But I didn't care. I know what he's been thinking. And he's wrong.

I never thought this out… I was just making it up as I went… but I've never spoken from my heart so freely and truthfully before. I told him that even though he thought we couldn't be together, that he should let me make my own decision. I mean… I know there's gonna be risks! But he never even asked me if I wanted to take those risks. I want to face it all with him… side by side… because no one should face life alone. It's wrong that we should only be half-alive… half of ourselves. I love him. And that's all that matters.

He was just standing there, staring at me. I desperately wanted him to say something… anything. I saw tears in his eyes. And all he said was "Thank you, Mary Jane Watson."

He kissed me. And I wanted that moment to last forever. Because at last, my life was complete. I never wanted him to let go of me.

But then sirens went by outside. Lots of sirens. And he did let go of me. He stared towards the window and then looked back at me, as if he was afraid. But I meant what I said. I'm going to be facing this with him. I'll stand by his side, no matter what he has to do.

"Go get 'em, Tiger," I said. And he smiled at me. And I knew I had done the right thing. Maybe I didn't do it in quite the right way… but we'll work through it somehow. In another moment, he was off swinging across New York and I was standing at the window, waiting. I expect I'll do a lot of just standing at the window, worrying and waiting. But this is the life I've chosen. And, if we truly love each other, we'll weather through every storm.

oOo

Peter crouched on the edge of the roof, staring off into the distant night sky without seeing it. He didn't really know what he was doing there. But the impulse had struck him so strongly that he couldn't ignore it. It had almost seemed like spider-sense, but in a different sort of way. Not signifying danger, but something else that he couldn't define. And so there he sat in the middle of the night, staring at the apartment building opposite. He was facing the tiny balcony and turned his eyes toward the french doors, lightly covered with sheer white curtains. Back and forth behind those curtains paced a female figure. She was limping, struggling across the floor on crutches, but she didn't pause in her unceasing tread across the room. He didn't know who she was, didn't understand why his heart had led him here. But it kept him there, and so he stayed, his heart pounding wildly, as he kept silent sentry over the unknown apartment.

The minutes slowly dragged by. The woman stopped pacing. With a sudden impatient gesture, she turned toward the doors and flung them open, slipping out into the night. Her head was bowed, her face turned away from him, but his breath caught in his throat as he saw the moonlight glinting off her bright red hair. She moved toward the railing of the balcony and draped herself over it, burying her head in her arms. He could see a small brown book clasped tightly in her hand. For a long time she stood there, her shoulders shaking, as if with sobs. He suddenly felt compelled to go to her. But he hung back… why, he didn't know. Here before him stood the mystery woman of his dreams. He waited, trying to work up his courage. But he waited too long. In another moment, she turned back to go inside. For no longer than a second, he caught a glimpse of her face, white and stained with tears, and his heart stood still.

"MJ." he whispered, his eyes filling with tears behind the silver eyepieces of his mask. How the name came to his lips, he never knew. He hadn't seen MJ in years, except for a few brief times that he had rescued her during some of his battles with the monsters that seemed to be constantly invading the city. What was wrong with him? Was his subconscious trying to show him, through these strange dreams, what he had missed for so many years? He remembered vaguely having a crush on MJ for years all throughout elementary and high school. Perhaps he should have gone farther with that. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so miserable, so alone. But… it was far too late now. What was he even doing here? Shaking his head, he turned to swing away. He had made up his mind to give Carlie that interview. Might as well get it over with. In a few minutes, he was at her apartment, knocking on the window, wondering vaguely if he had gone completely crazy.

She was out on her balcony in a moment, her eyes wide in amazement.

"Spider-Man? You… you came?"

"Hi." He grinned under the mask, wondering what she would think if she knew who he was.

"Oh my word," Carlie breathed, shaking her head. "I… I just can't believe it. Can't believe that you're here. I can't believe you're real."

"Yep. I'm real, alright." Spider-Man laughed. "At least, last I checked, I was. So. Peter said you had some questions for me?"

"Well… um… do you want to come in first? Sit down?"

"Nah. I'm fine here."

"That's amazing," Carlie whispered, staring at him as he perched on the railing of the balcony. A railing that was no wider than two inches. "I… I've got a list of questions," she stammered. "I've been collecting questions from fans… I just told them, if they could ask you one thing, what would it be? There's a lot here that I'm not going to ask like "What is your real name" and "What do you look like"...

"What do I look like?" Peter gestured to his costume. "Isn't it obvious?"

"They mean under the mask," Carlie added.

"Oh. Well, you might not want to know. I've got eight eyes and spider fangs," Peter laughed. At Carlie's startled expression, he continued. "Ok, sorry, just kidding. But the mask is a lot more interesting than my real face, I promise."

"I scratched those questions out anyway," Carlie shrugged. "I know you want to remain anonymous. So… why don't we start with "What's your favorite snack?"

"Seriously?" Peter grinned wryly beneath his mask. "My favorite snack? Someone gets a chance to ask Spider-Man one question and they want to know what kind of snacks he eats?"

"To be honest, there's a lot of people out there who don't even believe you're human. I had one person ask me if you ate spiders."

"I've been accused of a lot of things, but never yet cannibalism," Peter shrugged. "I hate to disappoint, but I have pretty normal preferences when it comes to snacks. I'm practically addicted to cheez-its."

"Can I ask why you chose the colors red and blue for your costume?"

Peter felt his heart skip a beat. He could see, as if it had happened yesterday, the hours he had spent up in his room, designing the costume that he had now made famous. He had drawn exactly what he wanted, but was at a loss as to what colors it should be. He had done most designs in black and grey, which seemed drab and boring. And across the narrow divide between his house and the neighboring one, he had seen into the window opposite his own. Mary Jane Watson, brushing her beautiful red hair. She had looked up at him, giving him one of those glorious smiles as she waved at him, and her blue eyes seemed like sapphires in her perfect face. Red hair and blue eyes. Red and blue. Without even thinking about it, he had reached for red and blue markers, filling in the design on his sketchpad.

"Um… I like those colors," he answered feebly.

"Okay…?" Carlie seemed disappointed.

"There was a friend… that I once had…" Peter added, hesitantly. "A friend who had… red hair. And blue eyes. I guess I just thought of the friend when I was designing the costume."

"Oh!" Carlie jotted something down in her notebook. "Um… here's one of the most popular questions… How did you get your powers?"

"Believe what you like!" Peter stretched his arms out in a dramatic gesture. "The possibilities are endless. And I'm not saying, so you kinda just have to use your imagination. It's more interesting that way, anyway."

"Okay," Carlie laughed. "Personally, I think it must have been some sort of radioactive something or other. That's what always happens in the comics. Unless the planet Krypton is real and you came from there?" She didn't wait for an answer, just hurried on to the next question. "How about this one? What does it feel like to swing over the city?"

Peter smiled. "That's a bit more like it."

In spite of Carlie's insistence that none of the questions would be personal, Peter had to shoot down over half of them. But she was so thrilled with what she got… like a child on Christmas morning… that it didn't seem to matter. It was funny, the way she seemed so ridiculously harmless and silly. He got… careless. Told her things that he wouldn't let her put in the interview.

"Okay, here's the last question. I saved the best for last. This is the one fans ask the most. Is there a Spider-Woman?"

"A Spider-Woman?" Peter laughed. "Man, I wish. I'm the only spider-person I know of. If you hear of another, be sure to let me know."

"Well… I don't mean exactly a woman with spider powers… I mean…" she hesitated. "Someone that you love."

"Someone that I love?" Peter shook his head. "Never really had anyone that special before. But I hope… I hope she's out there somewhere…" his voice trailed off and he winced as the blue eyes suddenly came into focus before him again. And the red hair… the same red that he wore over his heart every moment of his life.

"We'll find each other," her voice echoed through his mind. "We'll be together again."

Carlie was still waiting in silence, staring at him curiously.

"I hope she is too," she whispered, so quietly that he hardly heard her. "I forgot to thank you for saving my life," she added suddenly, moving forward. "I thought I was going to die last night when that monster grabbed me." She took another step toward him. She was standing so close now that she was nearly touching him. Peter stayed motionless, still spell-bound under the power of the whispered words that haunted his thoughts.

"I've never met anyone as incredible as you," Carlie murmured.

Peter didn't answer. He tried to push away the feeling that was creeping into his heart… the feeling that something was all wrong with this situation. He wasn't acting himself and it almost frightened him. He half-wanted to continue this relationship with Carlie. But the sad eyes of his dream warned him not to. And yet he didn't resist as she reached up, gingerly touching the spider symbol on his chest. Her hand was at his mask, slowly slipping it up to reveal his mouth as she leaned toward him. He waited in silence, letting her lips meet his. And suddenly, he jerked back in alarm, afraid of what he had done. Whether it was his sudden movement or a purposeful action on her part, he didn't know. But he found himself staring at his mask in her hands.

"Oh… oh no…" Carlie gasped in alarm. "I'm… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…" she broke off, her eyes growing so large that they seemed to fill her entire face. "Peter? Peter Parker?"

"Carlie Cooper." Peter snatched the mask back from her hand and slipped it back on. "Now what?"

"You can trust me," Carlie spoke pleadingly, looking almost frightened at his sudden anger.

"Do you know what happened the last time someone learned my identity?" Peter's tone was threatening. "Do you?! I lost everything… everything! I lost my memories… my heart, my hope, my strength, I lost… I lost her." The last words he spoke so quietly that she could barely hear them. He could feel the tears trickling down the inside of his mask and he pressed a hand to his aching heart. He didn't even know where the words he was saying were coming from… he couldn't believe what he had said… whatever it was, it made no sense. Something was wrong… so wrong…

Carlie was staring back at him, her own eyes filling with startled tears. He bit his lip, mentally cursing himself for his carelessness. "Listen, Carlie Cooper," he added, his tone gentler. "Don't you dare tell a soul. You're the only person alive who knows and don't you dare tell a soul. If you ever let it slip, we're both in danger. Worse danger than you could ever imagine. Understand?"

He was gone before he heard her answer.

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