Peter sat in the student union, his eyes shut tight. His bag was on the seat next to him. He wasn't moving.
The connected booth shifted as someone sat down opposite him. "Peter, listen," said Mary Jane.
"I thought we went over this," Peter said quietly, his eyes still clenched shut.
"No, you gotta hear me out," she said, nerves in her voice. "Peter, Harry's dad is dead."
Peter opened his eyes. "What?" he said.
She nodded. "He was experimenting with some chemical mix when somehow the fume hood was breached, he breathed some of it in. Made his brain pop, basically. Heart blew out. Whatever it was, that stuff was chemical death. The funeral is Sunday."
"Wow," Peter said softly. "How is Harry taking it?"
"He's a wreck," Mary Jane said, leaning back. She looked tired. "He's at his aunt's place, dug in and brooding right now."
"I gotta go see him," Peter said to himself.
"Good luck," she said, her voice subdued.
"Can you give me directions?" Peter asked.
"I can go one better," she said. "Want a ride?"
Minutes later, they were sitting in her car, headed out of the campus. The car was full of awkward silence for a minute as Mary Jane got out into the city's traffic stream.
Peter cleared his throat. "Mary Jane," he said, "my powers are gone."
"What?" she said, swerving a bit as her head whipped around to look at him.
"Eyes on the road," he said, his voice tense. "I woke up this morning a normal average guy."
A moment of silence stretched out forever. She blinked.
"That's good, right?" she said. "Now nobody has a reason to come after you and screw up your life. You don't have anything to hide. Life further back from the edge, huh?" There was wonder in her voice.
His eyes filled with unshed tears as he looked at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I can't believe," he said softly, "you know me so little." He bowed his head. "My power caused me trouble, yes. But I always got more than I lost, if you know what I mean. And I was wrong. I'm not a normal average guy. The normal average guy out there," he said, fighting against the bitterness that crept into his voice, "doesn't know what he's missing. Has never done what I have done. I'm not sure I can ever be whole. In me," he said, touching his chest, "there's a scar where my incredible abilities once were."
"Then, maybe," she said, "you need to get your powers back." She looked over at him and tried a smile. "What happened?"
Peter narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what happened, but I know who does. When I'm done talking to Harry it's time to put a plan together."
"I'll help you," Mary Jane said promptly. "Say the word, I'll do it."
"Here's the word," he said. "No. This is too dangerous for me, and I can't allow anyone else to face what I'm up against. You don't understand. You cross this woman's path just once and she has it in for you for the rest of your life, even if you didn't do hardly anything. Besides, she might be done with me and headed out of town, but for all I know she's got a goon hiding in the trunk and she's about to scoop us up with an electromagnet from a helicopter. There's just no predicting what she'll do."
"What, are you her press agent?" Mary Jane said, her voice tight.
"MJ, this is the woman that impersonated me and broke Gwen's heart. This woman ended my relationship with Gwen because she was just annoyed at Peter Parker. She's the one that said all those nasty things about you and Harry to Gwen, when you spent that whole night over at her house to kill me in case I showed up. I wasn't lying when I said I was innocent in that whole affair. That's what we're facing. And I can't let you get her thinking vengeful thoughts in your direction, see?"
Mary Jane was quiet for a long, long moment. "I wasn't able to believe that somebody else was talking to Gwen that night," she said. "I would have sworn it was you. Gwen was convinced it was someone else, but I couldn't imagine it. Of course, I couldn't imagine you could cling to walls or make webbing." She lapsed into silence, then shook her head. "Is there really a shapeshifter after you?"
"Either that," Peter said deliberately, "or I tore Gwen's heart out myself. Can you believe that?"
"I used to be so sure it was you," Mary Jane said, "but now that I know you better I know you would never say those things to her."
"Before you didn't believe me. Now you do. Trust me on this, it's the same with this shapeshifter. Believe me now. Save yourself heartache later. Let me do this alone."
"Okay," she relented. "But if you need anything, anything at all, call me." She looked over into his eyes.
"I promise I'll call if there's something I need that you can help me with," he said.
"We're almost there," Mary Jane said as they took the exit.
xXx
Peter walked into the dim musty room. He could faintly hear a woman sobbing nearby. He glanced around the baroque decoration style. Heavy curtains reduced the pale sunlight outside to a few thin rays. Harry Osborn sat on a couch, dressed in a suit, listless.
"Hey Harry," Peter said.
Harry looked up. "Sorry I couldn't make it to racquetball this morning." His voice was flat and empty.
"Forget about it," Peter said. "How are you holding up?"
Harry's eyes were reddened, listless, dull. "I should have known you'd show up," he reflected.
"Of course," Peter said. "Your dad… this must be a terrible shock for you, Harry."
"MJ brought you," Harry said as a statement of fact.
"Yes, she's out in the foyer or lobby or whatever."
"I've had a lot on my mind lately," Harry said, staring at Peter with unwavering eyes. "I hear you've been keeping her warm for me."
There was a long, cold moment of silence.
"Harry," Peter said, "no. That is entirely not true. I haven't touched her. I won't, as long as she's with you. Come on, man, I'm not like that."
"But you want to," Harry said, his gaze unwavering.
Peter knelt by his knee. "Listen to me," he said. "You're my friend, my best friend. I know about the sacrifices you had to make to keep me on as a roomie, and I know I haven't been the best friend to you. But I wouldn't do that. I won't do that." He looked into Harry's eyes. Harry looked back, his stare small and mean.
Peter slowly stood. "If there's anything I can do for you, Harry," he said, pain in his voice, "let me know."
"Because it won't cost you," Harry said abruptly.
Peter blinked. "What?"
"People like you," Harry said. "You sail through life. Whatever comes, you just take it in stride, overcome it, move past it. Nothing slows you down. Nothing hits you where it hurts. So you can offer whatever you want. The consequences will never connect."
Peter felt himself trembling. He forcibly reminded himself that Harry was talking through pain, that the nastiness in his eyes was his reaction to being bereaved. He fought to breathe.
"Everybody has pain, Harry," Peter said, withdrawing as much as he could. "Each of us gets to decide what we do with tragedy. Whether it makes us stronger or weaker." He hesitated. "Do you want me to come to the funeral?"
Harry looked away and bit his lip. His auburn mat of wiry hair was in disarray, his face hollow as though he had not been eating. He looked even more pixielike than usual. When he looked back at Peter, his eyes were deep and dark.
"Yes," he whispered.
Peter squeezed his shoulder. "Then I'll be there," he said softly. He reached the doorway.
"Peter," Harry said. Peter stopped, and turned to look at him.
Harry's face was pale, framed against the dark couch, in shadow. His eyes were magnetic. "Peter, I know. I know you weren't wearing your seat belt."
They looked into each other's eyes, and Peter shivered. He turned away and quickly left the room.
Peter walked out the door and came face to face with Mary Jane.
She stood, her mouth tight, tears welling up in her eyes, a mixture of pain and fury on her features. She grabbed his arm, her grip fierce, and she took the shortest route possible out of the mourning house, out to the chill of the front yard. She walked to where she parked on the extensive driveway and stood by her car, staring at the ground.
"I'm breaking up with him, that's not even a question," Mary Jane said. "I can't believe the way he talks to his friends." She gritted her teeth and looked away from Peter, across the lawn. "I can't believe the way he's been talking to me. It just isn't worth it any more, Peter."
Peter shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Harry's grieving right now, he's got a lot on his mind," Peter said.
"That he does," Mary Jane said softly, still gazing out over the broad expanse of dying grass. "And when you were at the bottom, with Aunt May in the hospital and no car and no money and screwed up finances, I remember picking you up, the first thing out of your mouth was to ask how Harry was doing." She looked him in the eye. "At the time I was amazed that even in the middle of everything else you cared about somebody else."
"It's not that simple," Peter said, uncomfortable.
"Yes it is," she said. She brushed tears away with the back of her hand and sniffled. "I have some business to tend to, if you'll excuse me," she said, stiffly formal. She strode back to the house.
Peter looked up at the sky as he leaned back on the car. "Oh, man," he breathed. "What am I going to do?" He felt truly torn. Should she stay with Harry even if she didn't want to? Why would she do that? How responsible was he for their falling out? Could he in good conscience…
He shook his head. Shivered. The cold sank through his thin coat. He realized that he was a mere mortal, and the cold penetrated deeper. He thought of the times that Aunt May told him to wear a coat and he finally understood why.
Less than ten minutes, the front door banged open and Mary Jane came out, striding fast, her head down. She opened the car door, popped the locks, and slung herself down into the car. Peter sat next to her, and looked over at her with some concern.
"Let's go," she gritted out. Her eyes were smeary red, and already tears had almost frozen on her cheeks.
As the car tore out of parking and swerved around the other expensive cars parked at the house, Peter was at a loss for words.