Clear Decision

rated PG

A/n: Hi. Brief wondering on the Spidey 2 movie got this. Reviews are courteous.

I want to tell you something, MJ. I want to tell you, everything now. It's not as simple as you think - I wish it was, and there'd be nothing to tell, and I could have seen your show, and walked you home… I could ask you - But I can't. So I'll write this, what you'll never know; and you'll never be hurt, because of this, you'll never be hurt because of me.

Night in the city is dark, MJ. Heavy, clinging, hiding shadows in its light, hiding pain in its darkness. It's not the same as night in the suburbs, or night on the sea. Here it's violent, night-terror, garish, always moving -darkness that crouches in filthy alleys, night that shatters in people's screams. Wailing, the sirens flash down the streets, store-lights glower into grey shade and the stars in the black above are erased by the shadows underneath.

And now I feel, somehow, that I'm part of it. Can you see how it is? I'm not the thug on the corner. I'm not the guy waiting to rape you in the dark. But even so, I'm part of it, trapped in its web unable to escape. I can't go back.

You know that feel at a party sometimes? All the people, surrounding, making noise, but you couldn't be more alone… Maybe you don't know it. No one could ignore you, Mary-Jane, no one ever really has. But when they don't ... Well at a party, they knock into you; no one sees, no one cares. There's all the light, and you feel like you might as well be on a cliff, a million miles away.

It's the same in both worlds. They hate me here, in the shadows, because I bring them to light. But in the light, no one knows me. You can't know me. No matter how hard I try, it's not enough. In the dark, I'm a mask, a shadow, a name…and in the light, I'm a face, without a name, without a being. I'm two people, and I can't be one.

I'm sorry, MJ, that I didn't make it. I came, I swear I did - I wanted to see you so much. I know you were great, you always are.

Does the sky watch me and laugh? Me, this no one everyone thinks they know… Or someone no one knows at all. Is God there, watching? What am I? MJ, I want you to know me. I want you to know who I am, where, when, forever. But I'm going backwards, saying what I haven't said.

I called...the pay-phone cut me off. I tried to say. I said. But you couldn't hear; and I can't tell you. Someday maybe, it'll all be changed; you can hear the story...the story of this. The Amazing Spider-man...and Peter Parker. It's sounds pretty funny, doesn't it? Peter Parker --Spider-man; the kid you knew next-door and the crime-fighting freak who saved you in the alley. Spidey and Pete. And me - Who am I...?

I don't know.

I know this is a mess MJ - I know I can't say it right - I know you can't read it. I don't know what to do; I can't be there. I don't even know what I'm doing now. I'm trying to do the right thing, Mary-Jane; I wish it didn't hurt so much. I love you; I'll always be here, watching; I'll always be here to help you. I'll always...

MJ, honest, I don't know what I'll always do. I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know what's going on. I can't do this, all of it. I can't be anyone - am I no one? It stops sometimes; sometimes I stop and for a second - I can't see. I'm lost, somewhere, inside - I don't know. I'm falling to pieces...Spider-man's dying...I'm tired, and sick of everything. Aunt May's going to lose the house...I lost my job. Can you see how it is? Can you see why it's like this? I wish you could, MJ, I wish someone could. Because I can't manage it. I can't see. I don't know how it works!

I want it to stop - I can't do it both ways - I can't do it at all when I don't know what I'm doing. I want it to end. I just want to be there, for you, for Aunt May... I want to manage college without sleeping during the lectures. I want it to end.

I want it to end.

The paper fluttered in a cool brush of night air. It pulled from the young man's grasp, and he watched it distantly, curl and slide to the floor. Settling, it remained still, scarred by the smudged pen-marks and scattered, desperate words, bent and crumpled by anxious hands and thought.

The young man gazed down at it, eyes ringed by shadows and dull in grey dusk. He watched without presence, without thought, mind far-away, hopeless indecision mingled with vague grief empty in his pale expression. Behind, the closet remained untidily open....the shadow of the limp suit - silvery-webbed in last light - swayed and turned on the floor, casting lazily into the dusky light. The young man's eyes fell, stirring as if waking from a dream. He turned his hands, gazing wonderingly at his wrists. The paper crackled, twisted in another weak wind.

"Spider-man's dying..."

The uncertain gaze hardened. The words on the paper danced, rough and plain on their white floor. 'Spiderman's dying...'

"Dying."

The young man rose abruptly. Clear decision drove grief and despair flying from his weary gaze.

"Spider-man." he shook his head. "I'm Spider-man no more."