Peter zipped out of the mall as the cops arrived and ran in the front door, answering the silent alarm. He moved cleanly, tight in his mesh, the spider ghost once again. He fired out weblines, tugging himself quickly and surely through the wild three dimensional cityscape. His brain was on fire, he felt no pain.

Mary Jane.

Yeah.

"Lightning for blood," Peter whispered as he fired out a stream of web in the chilly night, whirling through the fourth dimension with precise timing that would be the envy of a concert pianist.

And he had a plan. Now he swung through the night, not looking back. He knew where he was going.

If Harry could pace him when he knew where he was going, then Harry deserved to catch him. Peter couldn't restrain a grin. His arm hurt, he had to favor it. His ribs slowly trickled blood. But he was alive, he was moving, and he was unstoppable.

Before him, the Osborn Towers loomed in the urban landscape. Where Harry lived. Where Harry worked. Where Harry would have to confront him. He grinned as he poured on the speed. He did not have to look to know that Harry would be following him now. He had little choice. After all, once your identity is compromised, your options narrow dangerously.

Peter stood on the slanted roof of one of the towers, looking out over the misted and glittering cityscape. He waited patiently. He knew he would not have to wait long.

I bet you're pretty proud of yourself, a familiar voice hissed. You tend to think very highly of yourself when you untangle life's little knots.

"Lose the voice," Peter said. "It isn't you."

No, it isn't ME, Harry hissed. It is US. WE. We are better.

"You and what?" Peter said. "It looks like somehow you bonded with the darkstone itself."

In the uncertain silence that followed, Peter scanned the rooftop until he saw Harry hunched in a shadow, ready to spring, his inky black surface shifting like a pool of oil.

"Do you want to fight some more or are we ready to talk?" Peter asked quietly.

Harry shivered, then he sprang out. He lunged at Peter, and Peter skipped to the side, knocking the claws away. Harry lashed out, driven, and Peter snatched his wrist and threw a punch directly into the bone of his elbow. Sputtering in rage, Harry charged at him, claws chopping through the air. Peter twirled into the middle of the strikes, elbowing one wrist away and snatching the other. He stepped to the side with a heavy twist on the wrist, and something snapped in Harry's elbow as he flipped to the side. He finished out the flip and landed, snarling, his arm limp.

"I know I can tear your arm right off," Peter said with cool assurance as he let go and bounced out of reach. "I know how to beat you. Now I know who you are, and what your power is made of. You sure you don't want to talk?"

Harry stood panting, staring at him.

"This is your dream, huh," Peter said, looking him square in an oversized luminous eye. "You have wealth, freedom, the power of the darkstone, and the best thing you can think to do is come after me?"

You are not better than everyone else, snarled Harry. It's time you knew that.

"I do," Peter said quietly. He pulled his mesh hood off, revealing his face. "I know I'm not better. I'm just different. My powers have given me a lot, don't get me wrong. But they've taken a lot away, too. I've learned to appreciate what my sacrifices have gotten me. Like that voice in the back of your mind that whispers to you, tells you things, terrible things."

Harry flinched with surprise. Peter nodded.

"It can be mastered," he said. "Or at least tamed," he said after a moment of thought. "Well, directed to something useful most of the time," he finished with a rueful smile. "The point is, I know the drives you're feeling right now. And they're just using you. They take the anger, the fear, whatever is inside. Then they use that for whips and spurs to make you do what they want you to do. And the Harry Osborn I know is bigger than that."

Harry hesitated, and the darkness peeled back from his face. "P-Peter," he gasped.

"Look, Harry," Peter said. "You wanted MJ because I did. You left to explore the world because I found a purpose and you wanted one too. You even let this… this thing into you, so you could have power like mine." Peter's eyes were gentle. "I've always respected you, Harry," he said. "It's time for you to get out of my shadow and go cast your own."

Harry fell down on his hands and knees, cradling his broken arm against his chest. The dark surface that had covered him receded into his skin. He looked at Peter, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Help me," he whimpered.

"I know a doctor that can sort this out," Peter said with a smile. "Let's get you changed. We can take one of your cars."

xXx

The door opened, and Peter led Harry inside. They glanced into the kitchen.

Tandy, Tyrone, Illyana, and Mary Jane looked up, surprised.

"Peter!" Mary Jane said, quickly standing. "Harry?"

"It's okay now," Harry said. "I've… I'm not… Is there a doctor here?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "Illyana, is Strange in?"

"He's just upstairs," Illyana said quickly. "Um, upstairs and to the left."

"We'll be back," Peter said, and he mounted the stairs with Harry right behind him.

Strange stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes were calm, but his hair was mussed and he had a week's growth on his sunken cheeks. He smiled politely at the two young men on the stairs.

"Can I help—" he started, then he stopped short and stared at Harry. "The darkstone," he breathed.

"I think the Doc knows what to do," Peter said. "He also has a broken arm," he said to Strange.

"Peter, please wait with the others," Strange said. "Harry Osborn, right?"

"Yes sir," Harry said, surprised.

"Do come with me."

Harry and Strange entered one of the guest rooms upstairs.

"Do you want to know what happened?" Harry asked, feeling a bit awkward.

"You know Peter, probably from school," Strange began.

"He was my roommate," Harry volunteered.

"You detected that he was somehow different, but didn't put a lot of thought into it. You were going about your business when a white haired man with sharp features offered you the power to beat Peter. It seemed like a really good idea. He gave you something like cold coffee to drink."

Harry stared at him slack jawed.

"His name is Mordred," Strange added gently. "Don't ever have anything to do with him again."

"Yes sir," Harry said respectfully. "Can you take that thing out of me?"

"Mostly," Strange said. "He got you to ask him for it first, right? You accepted it voluntarily?"

"Yes sir."

Strange pursed his lips. "Very well," he said. "I'll do my part, then you must do yours."

"I will," Harry said. "When do we begin?"

"Now," Strange said. "But it helps if you are asleep first…" He passed his hand over Harry's face once, and Harry fell into a deep slumber.

xXx

Peter reached the bottom of the stairs. He limped into the kitchen and eased himself down into a chair.

"Hey, this Strange guy is a doctor, right?" Mary Jane said.

"Yeah," Peter replied.

"Woo hoo!" Mary Jane said with a grin. "I don't have to do the stitches this time!"

"I need some on my side, and my arm got ripped pretty good," Peter said with a rueful grin. "Hey, Mary Jane. I got hit on the head. A lot. So maybe you can help me clarify this. You did propose to me, right?"

"You bet," she said with a nod.

Peter leaned back in the chair. "Cool," he said with a very satisfied smile. "That's what I thought."

xXx

Harry blinked, then sat up. He looked down at his arm, it was in a sling. He was sitting on a bed. Doctor Strange sat on a chair next to him, his fingers steepled, his eyes dark.

"Will… Will I be okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Strange replied quietly. "If you choose to be."

"Am I going to need physical therapy for this?" Harry asked, nodding at his arm.

"No," Strange said. "I've seen to it that your arm will knit properly, as long as you take care of it. A bit too much racquetball, I should think," he said with a small smile.

"Right," Harry said, shaking his head as memories teased the edge of his mind. "Racquetball with Peter."

Strange said nothing, he simply held up a stone. It was dark, in the shape of a slightly irregular rounded square. One corner was chipped. "This is the darkstone," he said, "reconstituted."

"Almost," Harry said, nodding towards the chip.

"That is within you," Strange murmured. "You agreed to take the stone, and some part of you will always be haunted by a darkness that is beyond you."

"So… what do I do about it?" Harry asked nervously.

"Nothing," Strange said. "Absolutely nothing. If you feel a dark urge, go around it. Be decent. Be human. Deny the impulse to be anything else. Live a good life and you'll be free of this forever." He deliberately put the stone down on the nightstand. "Now for the delicate part."

"What's that?" Harry asked, noticing that his mouth was dry. "Payment?"

Strange's smile was an echo. "No," he said, his thoughts far away. "Not a payment. The question before us is, do you want to remember that this whole incident happened?"

"Do I want to remember?" Harry asked, startled.

"Some people," Strange said, "find it difficult reconciling episodes that do not fit with the rest of their lives to the future they wish to have. For those people, sometimes the past can re-shape itself in a more… palatable direction. Reduce the truth to the occasional troubling dream."

"Absolutely not," Harry said firmly. "This episode, as you call it, fits perfectly into my life. I've always wondered what was under the surface. What else was going on. I can't go back to wondering. In fact, you make me curious. Can you look and see if that's happened to me before?"

Strange hesitated. "Not right now," he said. "Maybe later. You're sure?"

Harry sighed. "I've learned from this," he said. "I see now that there are things I need to tend to, things that my… my jealousy blinded me to. I need to be my own man." He looked at Strange. "You said the white haired man was named Mordred?"

"Yes," Strange said. "And he is not a man. He is a creature that looks like a man. He is a malicious and wicked creature that delights in simply being wicked and malicious. He discovered your feelings about Peter, and he used one of his toys," Strange said, touching the darkstone, "to power you up and send you after Peter. In this way, he hoped to foster mistrust and paranoia in Peter, perhaps killing him or driving him away, ideally involving me and having things get ugly one way or another."

"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to," Harry said, wanting a smoke. He licked his lips and glanced around the room.

"Years ago, I locked Mordred in a prison. To keep him out of trouble. He got out. He took it personally," Strange said, his eyes depthless.

"Thanks for your help," Harry said sincerely. "If you need anything, just let me know. I won't forget this."

Strange nodded to him. "I appreciate the offer," he said. A faint smile played across his features. "We're always looking for advertisers for the Planetary."

"Oh," Harry said, his eyes widening. "You're that Doctor Strange!" He grinned, bemused. "I can't believe I didn't make the connection."

"Don't worry about it," Strange said, rising. "I get that a lot."

They were headed down the stairs in time to hear the conversation in the kitchen.

"So you two have got to be in the wedding," Mary Jane was saying to Tandy and Tyrone. "We'll be the best protected couple outside a mob wedding." She grinned.

"I just hope this wedding goes better than the last one I helped out with," Illyana said, shaking her head. She was the first to see Harry and Strange standing in the doorway. "Hey, guys."

"Hey," Harry said. He swallowed hard. "Look, I want to apologize to all of you. I know words are pretty weak, but I am sorry. Peter, you know I'm sorry it turned out like it did. But Mary Jane," he said, a pained expression settling on his face. "I don't know what to say to you. Except that I'll never do anything like that again. I know what came over me. I know I had a part in what happened. And as much as I wish I could say otherwise, some part of me really wanted to betray our friendship." He looked into her eyes, speechless for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "To you most of all."

"I'm not sure it's that easy," Mary Jane said coolly.

"That's why I'm not asking for forgiveness," Harry replied. "For now, please just accept my apology."

"Apology accepted," Mary Jane said with a slight nod.

"With that," Harry said, "I'll see you all later. I think I need about a week of sleep." He smiled at them briefly, then left through Strange's front door.

"I'll talk to him later," Peter said to Mary Jane in a low voice. "Just what exactly happened?"

"We'll talk later," she replied with an arched eyebrow. "Until then, you can stew in your curiosity."

"You are an evil Nazi," Peter said with half a smile.

"Take it or leave it," Mary Jane replied.

Peter smiled, and stroked her face. "You know I'm keeping you," he whispered. Then his eyes widened. He looked at his hand. The abrasions and scrapes that covered it.

"Oh crap," he said breathlessly. "I broke out of prison tonight!" He stood up quickly. "I need somebody to give me a ride to the station! I gotta turn myself in!" He turned to Mary Jane. "If I can't be Peter Parker any more, will you still love me?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "We'll rename you Slim Guido Sarduchi."

"Strange," Peter said, turning to him. "If it comes to that, can you get me a new identity?"

Strange raised an eyebrow. "If it comes to that," he said with a nod. "Do your best to keep that from happening."

"You know I will," Peter said. "Now will somebody give me a ride to the police station?"

"Maybe I can do you one better," Illyana said with an arch smile.