Wow, I never thought so many people would read my story!  Thank you everyone for the great reviews!  Oh, and I did figure out how to accept anonymous reviews for those of you that complained…it was easy to do, but this is what happens when you have blonde hair.  Sorry for my stupidity!  Still no word on the Spidey Trial (that's the one where I get a lawyer and have him tell the world that Spidey is MINE, all mine) so you can thank Marvel Comics for his incredible hotness.  Here's Chapter 4 – M.J.'s POV.

********M.J.'s POV (Consciousness)*********

"All he said was he wanted to take a nap, and then he was unconscious again."  Dr. Marcel looked at me with visible concern in his eyes.

We sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out what to do.  What we could do.

"And that was all?  Nothing else?"  Why does he keep asking me so many questions?  I tried to remember…I hadn't really been listening to what he was saying.  When I'd felt Spider-Man's grip at my hand, I'd lost control.  How can he expect me to remember his words when I was so excited by just the movement of his fingers?

"…I think that was it.  He said he was cold, and…"  I trailed off as I again turned to face him, lying so serenely on the floor.  He was ok; I felt it within myself.  He was going to be ok.      

I wanted so desperately to pull the mask up, to look into the sapphire eyes normally swirling with hope and optimism.  But I couldn't.  I couldn't bring myself to pull away what he had worked so hard to keep hidden.  I couldn't expose him.

I didn't need to. 

Because I knew. 

          I knew that shy, withdrawn Peter Parker had the weight of the world – ok, just New York City – on his shoulders…  But New York is a big place.  How does he do it?  How is it possible, with college, a job –

My thoughts were cut off as Dr. Marcel stooped down to take a pulse.  He seemed satisfied with the results.  "His breathing is steady and he has a stable pulse.  He should be ok with plenty of rest.  His chest is already beginning to heal…it's amazing.  It seems like his body works far above the range of a normal human.  But he needs rest and liquids; he lost a lot of blood.  We should probably call a hospital, maybe they could keep him in their care until he is fully recovered." 

What?  A hospital?  He can't…they…  "Dr. Marcel, we can't do that."

"Why not?"  He searched my face for an answer.  I'm convinced he knows how I feel for Spider-Man…I hadn't left his side through the whole ordeal.  I'd even broken off my idea to call 911, to keep his identity hidden.  Dr. Marcel had done everything.  His best friend was a surgeon, and it showed.  He'd removed the bullets and stopped the bleeding.  He'd sewn the wound and placed a bandage around Spidey's rib cage.

And Spider-Man was still alive.

What if he hadn't been?

Don't think about that, M.J.

"If we take him to a hospital, someone will find out who he is.  A supposed human with special powers?  Everyone wants to know who he is, even you.  Admit it.  And they would use him as a science experiment, inspecting his body and his powers…"  He doesn't deserve that kind of torture.  Being herded around like a lab rat, poked and prodded by professors and doctors…

"I do want to know who he is.  But I promised you M.J., and I won't break you're promise."  He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his tired eyes.  "What do you propose we do?" 

Now that I looked at the situation from far away, I didn't really have a solution.  I wasn't even close to an idea, either.  He needs to be somewhere safe, where he won't be expected.  Somewhere people don't go but also somewhere where I can watch and protect him.  Peter has his own apartment, but Harry is there.  He's in the process of moving out, coming and going all the time.  That leaves…

My apartment.  Makes sense…I'm the only one there, no one ever visits me…and I'd get to spend some quality time with Peter…

Stop it M.J.!  This is not about letting Peter know you know.  He needs to get better.  You can't let him know!  It would kill him, make him feel…wait: why would his being Spider-Man interfere with our relationship?  What makes him think that we can't be together?  I don't get it.  I…oh yeah, I need to find somewhere to put him…

My apartment is the only choice that makes sense.  The only sensible one.

Letting out a big sigh, I stood to face Dr. Marcel.  "Can you help me take him to my house?"  There was no way I could lift him myself, and even if I did I would end up hurting him.

"I'll help you do whatever you feel is safe."

"Yeah.  It is."  It will be.  Nothing can go wrong.  No one will know.

I bent back down to Peter, giving him a kiss on the forehead.  "You'll be ok," I whispered into his ear. "You'll be safe."  As I stood up I turned to Dr. Marcel, wanting to thank him for everything he'd done.  He gave me a poignant smile when he noticed me watching him.

"Thank you."  I stepped closer to him, embracing him in a quick hug.  "For everything.  I can never repay you." 

"You're welcome, M.J.  And I don't expect you to repay me."

"You have no idea how grateful I am.  He means the world to me."  I hadn't realized until I'd almost lost him. "I guess it's true what they say…you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone."  He was still here, but in my disturbed state I had experienced how much I needed him.  I looked down at the floor, not wanting Dr. Marcel to notice my fogging eyes.

"Well…let's just get him settled at your house…he's going to be in your care.  Do you think you can manage alone?" 

"Yeah.  I'll have to."

"Ok, then, let's get him over there."

A thought occurred to me.  The only way to get to my apartment a few blocks away was walking, or a cab, unless… "Do you have a car?"  We couldn't very well drag Spider-Man through New York City, at least not inconspicuously; if someone saw just one of his feet, a legendary red webbed boot, we would be exposed.  That's how much he means to this city…everyone knows who he is, what he stands for…

"Yeah. Luckily.  I have to drive just outside the city to get to the office."

Whew.  I wiped sweat on my brow, and began to calm down again.  I had begun to get worked up over how we were going to get him to my apartment.  We can pull this off.  We have to.

Dr. Marcel found his car keys and pulled his black SUV into the alley.  I again climbed the stairs of Peter's apartment and searched his room for spare clothes and necessities.  I didn't want to have to leave him alone at my apartment at all unless I absolutely had too, so I had to make sure he would have everything he needed.

As I walked pass the alleyway, I heard Dr. Marcel call from within the shadowy brick walls.  I noticed that the sun was tapering, transforming the sky into a brilliant show of colors and streaks.  The pinks and blues contrasted each other, as though the opposite ends of the atmosphere were at war, desperate to determine which could be more stunning and enchanting.  I watched the battle for a few moments, letting my mind wander. 

And wander it did.

Within a matter of seconds, my mind had recapped the entire day, and my body fell victim to the exhaustion of it all.  I forced myself to mentally return to the alley in which I was physically standing.  As soon as I get to the apartment, I can sleep…

The thought of future sleep and the safety of Spidey were the only things that kept me going.  Without them, I would have lay down, right there in the alley, and slept on the cold ground.  

After I had finished drifting through my mind, I shuffled over to Dr. Marcel and Spidey.  We pulled him through the window, positioning him behind the backseat where it was flat and he wouldn't be noticed.  From what we could see he didn't wake up, but it was hard to notice with the mask in place. For what seemed like the eight millionth time that night, I had to resist the urge to lift the material off his face.  I sat in the front passenger seat so that I wouldn't be tempted.

 As if I could be temped anymore than I already was.

The ride to my apartment was uneventful.  The last of the colors in the sky faded, and a few bright stars began to sparkle through the city haze.  By the time we reached our destination, it was completely dark.  Neither blue nor pink had won.  Instead, blackness had swallowed them both, deleting the rivalry and forming a truce for the next twenty-four hours.

Dr. Marcel drove the vehicle to the back of my apartment, sidling up to the fire escape that led to my window. 

"Which one is yours?"

I pointed up, to the second highest window, two from the left.  "That one."

I watched as a silent 'wow' formed on his lips.  "Ok…um, how about you go open your window, and then we can carry him up the stairs and through it."

I tried picturing this in my mind, and found it impossible.  "Will that work?"

"He's heavy, but it's going to have to do.  Unless you want to try taking him up through the building."

When I weighed my options, the fire escape seemed safer for Peter.  More risky, because of its gradient and lack of handles, but it was definitely less obvious than dragging him through an apartment complex full of eighty people.

"No, the fire exit makes more sense…I'll be back."  I left the SUV and ascended the stairs to my room.  After sliding the key into the hole, I entered with a moan of weariness.  So tired… 

 I undid the window latch and opened the weighty glass pane, remembering to remove the metal screen.  I made sure that no unmentionables were in sight within my apartment, then went back outside to assist Dr. Marcel in hauling Spidey up to my room.  We decided that I would support his head and go first, and Dr. Marcel would follow with his feet.  We made sure to cover his body with a bed sheet, so that if anyone happened to pass by, which was doubtful, they wouldn't know it was Spider-Man.  It would look suspicious, but Peter would be safe…and that was all that mattered.

Slowly, cautiously, we made our flight up the stairs, step by step, until we finally found ourselves on the landing at the top.  The whole way up, I kept thinking, jeez, this boy is whacked.  He didn't stir once, despite my poor grip and unsteadiness.  When we laid Spider-Man down, I hopped through the window onto the linoleum floor of my kitchen, that, in reality, was no more than a living room with a stove, sink and fridge.  I stretched my arms out to the landing and wrapped them around Spidey's shoulders in an uncomfortable position.  I wasn't sure if I could sustain my grasp long enough to get him through the window. 

Dr. Marcel took hold of his legs and feet.  "Ok, on the count of three.  Ready?"

"Yep."  I was ready.  As ready as I'd ever be, anyway.  He was so hefty…but so fit and…proportionate.  He had the perfect body. 

"One…"  I made sure my grip was as tight as possible.  "…two…"  It was.  I got ready to lift.

"Fourteen."  What?  I was caught off guard, and looked to Dr. Marcel. 

Our eyes met, and I questioned him with a simple "Fourteen?"   A blank look sheltered his face, which shifted from confusion to revelation. 

"Well," he said, "I guess our little patient is awake."  He smiled at me.

"Oh!" Things began to make sense again.  I felt Spider-Man's hand make contact with mine, and he gently squeezed it before setting it upon his chest.  "I guess he is."

"What…what are you doing?  Where are we?" 

"You're going to stay at my place until you're better."  My body tensed as I waited for his response.  I had the feeling he wasn't going to just accept this as it was.  It was his 'thing' to argue. 

"Ok." 

My eyebrows shot up and I stood looking at him, head cocked to the side like a confused dog.  "Ok?"

"What, do you want me to change my mind?"  I could imagine him grinning under the mask.  How was it possible for Peter Parker and Spider-Man to be so completely different, yet exactly the same?  Spider-Man was so…sarcastic, wise-cracking…and Peter was so…Well, Peter was just Peter.  Sweet, innocent, clever Peter.  Peter, who'd always seemed so naïve to the world around him.  My Peter.

Well, I was being rather possessive, wasn't I?

I looked down at him, and shook my head.  "Not at all."

"Ahem."  Dr. Marcel cleared his throat.  "I hate to break this gathering up, but we are on a landing outside an apartment building with Spider-Man.  And plus, Trisha is still at home.  Alone.  Let's get him inside.  And you," he declared, pointing at Spidey, "just lay still.  You don't want to rip your stitches."

"Stitches?"

Dr. Marcel directed his sights towards me.  "She'll explain.  I really have to get home.  Grab his shoulders, M.J."

"Got them."

"One…two…"

"Wait."  Spidey held his hand up, motioning for us to stop.  "Can't I at least try to stand up?  I feel fine.  Really."

"Let's get you through the window first.  You can't move well enough to squeeze through that opening without tearing something."

"Look, I'm not helpless."

"Maybe not now.  But a few hours ago, you were lying on my floor, bleeding, ready to die.  Do you realize that?  You almost died."

The retort must have hit home with Spidey, because he fell silent and let his body relax.

"Now then.  One, two…THREE!"  I put all my strength into lifting his upper body through and over the window ledge.  He placed his arms around my shoulders and attempted to stand on his own feet.  He was a bit wobbly, but with only a little support, he was fine. 

"Are we ok?"  Dr. Marcel was halfway through the window.

"Yeah.  We're cool." 

He smirked at my answer.  "You teenagers…  I'm going to go.  Here's my number," he set a business card on the counter next to the fridge.  "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do.  Thank you for everything Dr. Marcel."

"You're welcome.  Feel better, Spider-Man.  I expect to see you out saving people within a few weeks.  I don't want my office too full."  He waved his hand in a goodbye, and left the way he came.  Through the window.  

Once he was gone, I started to walk Spider-Man to my bedroom. 

"Did he say weeks?"

I had thought the same thing.  If his health had progressed far enough within a few hours that he was able to walk with only a little help, why would it take a few weeks for him to heal fully?  I didn't feel like talking about that, though.  I wanted sleep.

 "I don't know.  Here, hold on to this."  I motioned to the door jamb.  He did as I told him, and I went to the bed and pulled down the sheets.  When I looked back, he was standing independently.  "Ok, Mr. Icandoanything.  If you don't need my help, then I'm going to bed."  I was trying to be funny…it wasn't my forte.  I just wanted to be goofy.  I'd had enough seriousness for one day.

He stood there and looked at me for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally, he spoke.  "Thank you, M.J."  Well, way to blow that idea off the face of the earth.

"You…you're welcome.  But Dr. Marcel is the one who really saved your life.  You should have thanked him while he was here."

Spidey looked down at the ground, and I saw his chest lift as he let out a noiseless sigh.  "Yeah.  I should have."

"Well, you can tomorrow.  You can sleep in my room.  Keep the door closed, just incase.  I'll sleep on the couch out here.  And I'm going to bed soon.  I think I'm already asleep."

"If you're that tired, I refuse to take your bed away from you."

"You're not taking it.  It's being given to you."  I ushered him into the room, and he sat on the edge of the bed.  "Do you need anything?"

"You've done enough.  I need you to go get some rest."

"I won't argue with that.  I'll see you in the morning."  I put my hand on the back of his head, giving him a kiss where his lips would be.  He pivoted his neck, providing me improved access.  He did not reject nor return the action, only sat silent for a few moments afterwards.

"And Spider-Man?

"…Hmm?"  He was still in a daze.

"That wasn't a question, it was a demand."  I left him, bewildered, in the room, shutting the door behind me.  I put the screen back and shut the window, pulling the blinds down.  Within seconds I had curled myself into a ball on the couch and fell asleep.  

******M.J.'s POV (Unconsciousness)*************

The dream came.  The same one that had come every night since our talk after the funeral. 

Peter stands in front of Uncle Ben's headstone and professes his love for me.  I stand and take it, blow by torturous blow, unable to react.  Powerless to reveal my true feelings for him.  Compelled, by some unknown force, to tell him that I do not love him.

Is this how it feels for him every time he looks at me?

And if so…why?

What can possibly be stronger than love?  What power, if any, can make someone deny their exact feelings and emotions?

What is this monster, this abomination?

This night, tonight, is the first night in which the reverie has an ending.  Now I know.  I understand the horrible beast that forces him to keep his love inside.  He values his anonymity.  It's the only way to keep others safe. 

Or is it?

I turn to Peter, not daring to open my mouth.  The force has succumbed to my will, for the time being.  It cannot be rid of eternally, only hidden within the depths of my heart and soul.

I still cannot tell Peter that I love him.

But for now, he will not have to think that I don't.

There has to be another way.  A solution exists, and I will seek it. 

I will seek it, and I will find it.

There is a way.

Whew…sorry about the long wait.  How was I supposed to know I was going to get so much homework?  If I'd had it my way, this would have been posted on Thursday.  Let me know what you think…and sorry about the eerie dream she had.  It's supposed to make sense, really.  It just doesn't want to.  See you in chapter 5. 

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