Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that Spider-Man, MJ and nearly everything else about this fic is not mine, but belongs to a host of other, more creative people.

A/N: I apologize in advance for the fact that nothing much happens in this chapter. Think of it as another step on the way to the end.

Constructive criticism is most definitely appreciated.

Memories and Revelations

Part VI

MJ gazed morosely out of the window of the car in which she was riding. It had rained earlier in the evening, so that the dark street surfaces were still slick with water and glistening under the street lights. The pavement and concrete buildings had the shiny, otherworldly appearance that wet surfaces get on rainy nights, but MJ was too preoccupied to notice.

She had woken up that morning with the weirdest feeling in her chest – an unsettling combination of lightness and tension that she couldn't quite comprehend at first. As she sat up abruptly in bed, her heart had lifted in a brief burst of buoyancy and elation; then a cold chill had constricted it like a steel band. All at once, the events of the night before had flashed into her memory, causing everything fall into place, and bringing with them familiar feelings of loss.

After that, all day, MJ tried unsuccessfully to wrap her mind around the amazing revelation of the previous night. It was not that it was so shocking – she'd pretty much come to the conclusion that, on some level, she had always known that Peter and Spider-Man were one and the same. No, the problem was that her conscious embracing of this new knowledge had re-oriented her whole world. As a result, she had become preoccupied by a desire to examine all the events of the last two years from this new, intriguing angle. And some interesting insights were emerging ...

"Nearly there," John interjected, glancing over at her. She barely heard him and didn't bother to acknowledge his words.

At the moment, John was driving her to their rehearsal party at his parents' house. It was nearly eleven and MJ wished she could go home and go to bed instead. It had been a long day. In the afternoon she'd attended her own wedding rehearsal, then she had given her last play performance as Mary Jane Watson. But all day everything seemed strangely off-kilter. Take this evening's performance, for instance, – one of the strangest she'd ever given. Overnight, the formerly shallow, coquettish Cecily had undergone a transformation, appearing deeply in love from the moment of meeting Algernon and even becoming quietly heartbroken in Act II at the threatened departure of her new love. Her cast-mates had looked a little askance at her after that scene and MJ wondered distractedly whether the portrayal had gone too far. Her wounded Cecily had probably stood out from the rest of Wilde's polished veneer like an open sore.

Presently, MJ was thinking about her first kiss with Peter, on another rainy night much like this one. Her favorite comfort technique, reliving it, was less satisfying now that she knew that it wasn't some masked stranger who had been her partner in that perfect kiss. No, now it had become part of the mystery of Peter Parker. She still remembered it as vividly as ever, but my, didn't it assume a whole new puzzling aspect when she also recalled her conversation with Peter just a few minutes before they'd met in the alley?

"Hey!" She turned around to see Peter Parker running up to her, an eager smile on his cute, familiar face. Wow, was it ever good to see a friendly face right now, especially after her humiliating rejection at the audition just minutes ago.

"Hi!" she beamed. Peter looked really good in a deep blue shirt that set off his eyes perfectly ... but what was he doing here?

"How was the audition?" Peter was asking, an eager, interested expression on his face. Caught completely off guard by his question, by the whole unexpected meeting, MJ asked incredulously, "How did you know?"

Peter shrugged diffidently. "The hotline. Your mom told my aunt told me." He grinned.

MJ almost couldn't believe her ears. Had Peter really traveled across the city solely to see how her audition went? She suddenly felt incredibly warm and happy. When she'd told Harry last night that she was going to an audition today, he had said, "That's great. I'm sure you'll get it, babe," and then gone straight back to nuzzling her neck. His perfunctory encouragement hadn't felt encouraging at all. But now here was Peter, a long way from the lower East Side loft that he and Harry shared in Manhattan. He looked genuinely interested, and the fact that he was standing here before her on a dark city street proved that he must be. Her smile grew just a little bit wider. "And you came all the way down here?" she asked, still marveling.

Peter shrugged again, obviously trying to act nonchalant. She noticed that he looked a little tired and pale. "I was in the neighborhood; I needed to see a friendly face," he said casually, and his deep blue eyes smiled back into hers.

I know the feeling, thought MJ, still staring at him in wonder. Peter apparently feared that she didn't believe his story, because he continued. "I took two buses and a cab to get in the neighborhood," he confessed in a rush, a slightly sheepish smile covering his face.

They both laughed a little together, and there was a pause. MJ found herself feeling a tiny inward thrill at the sight of him. It was amazing how good Peter could make her feel about herself whenever he was around. One smile from him seemed to have more of an effect than all the CDs, the pretty jewellery, the Gucci watches or the perfume which Harry liked to shower on her. Incredibly, just the fact that Peter had realized how important this audition was to her was already taking the sting out of how badly it had gone, how rude they had been to her back there. Somehow she felt he would understand.

"So, how did it go?" Peter was asking her with interest. It was almost as though he had picked up on her thoughts.

MJ sighed and looked down. No use pretending it was anything other than it had been – a complete travesty. "They said I needed acting lessons," she admitted. Maybe she really wasn't cut out to be an actress after all. She was young and inexperienced, as they'd said, and the rejections stung so badly ...

Peter just looked at her, and MJ found herself inexplicably heartened by the earnest expression on his face. On the other hand, maybe this rejection, for a part she hadn't really wanted anyway, was simply a bump in the road. She smirked inwardly at herself for her melodramatic turnaround.

Then, aloud, she said ruefully, and a little self-mockingly, "A soap opera said I needed acting lessons." She laughed a bright, tinkly little laugh, and Peter laughed with her. He seemed to be laughing simply because she was laughing, which made MJ feel even better.

"Let me buy you a cheeseburger," he offered unexpectedly. "The sky's the limit ..." he pretended to think "... up to 7 dollars and 84 cents."

She laughed again at Peter's self-deprecating joke. Peter's good humor about his lack of money was a nice change from the way that Harry was always throwing money around, accidentally discovering in the process that most ice cream parlors, pizza joints, convenience stores, and movie theaters couldn't change 50 and 100 bills. Spending some time with Peter, just hanging out, was starting to sound like an appealing plan.

Then she remembered that she and Harry had a standing dinner date most evenings, unless something came up and she called to cancel in the afternoon. She groaned. "I can't," she said apologetically. "I'm going out to dinner with Harry." This prospect was less attractive, especially as she watched Peter's expressive face fall. Here he'd journeyed across Manhattan to see her, either to cheer her up or to celebrate with her, and she was ducking out on him to be with his best friend. She wanted suddenly to make it better. "Come with us," she invited him sincerely.

"No, thanks," Peter responded quickly, in such a subdued voice that she could hardly hear him. Then he asked her a surprising question. "How's that going – with you and Harry?"

In the back of her mind, MJ was surprised. She couldn't recall the last time Peter had asked her such a personal question. Throughout their high school acquaintance, even though they had talked occasionally across the fence dividing their backyards, he had never once asked about her boyfriends.

All of a sudden, MJ wished she could talk to him about Harry. She was truly interested in the perspective of Harry's best friend. Harry was sweet, but he was so needy – he always seemed hungry somehow. He never said out loud that he was of course, but she felt the pressure of his unspoken needs lurking in the background whenever they were together. He constantly bought her expensive presents, yes, but she was starting to feel that these unwanted gifts weren't given freely, that they demanded something of her, something she was unsure that she could give. Harry also gave her voracious kisses, kisses she had at first thought were passionate. Lately, though, they only made her feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. She sensed that these kisses too expected something from her ... something that, in this case, she definitely didn't want to give.

And Harry spent an awful lot of time tied up in knots about his ever-absent father – talking about him, blaming him, worrying about his opinion, seeking his approval and attention. She looked down and sighed. She had thought she was an expert on troubled relationships with one's dad, thanks to her own father's alternating cold and hot, neglectful or occasionally harsh behavior towards her, the result of his obvious but unacknowledged drinking problem. But Harry's tormented feelings about his father had given her a whole new perspective on dysfunctional father-child relationships.

Unfortunately, the trouble with trying to talk about Harry, even with a good friend like Peter, was that there was so much to say that it was hard to know where to begin. She was casting about for the right opening, when suddenly she was jerked back to reality as Peter, apparently misunderstanding her hesitation, said quietly, "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

Peter Parker, you are such a mystery, MJ thought, wrinkling her brow. Here he was backing away from a subject about which he clearly had a keen interest, acting like it wasn't important. Well, she was sceptical, especially considering Peter's long-standing crush on her. She wondered all at once what it would take to get Peter to admit that he had romantic feelings for her.

MJ looked at Peter with mischief in her eyes. Coquettishly, she asked, "Why so interested?" Actually, if she told the truth, she was more than a little interested herself in Peter's reaction. Maybe it was because she was genuinely touched that Peter would go so far out of his way to encourage her after a lousy audition. Or maybe she was becoming spellbound by those incredibly warm blue eyes, looking more vivid than ever above his dark blue shirt.

Peter didn't seem able to tear his captivated gaze from her face either. He tried stalling her instead by saying, "I'm not."

Now that was a lie, and MJ wanted Peter to see that she knew it was. More intrigued than ever by his continued diffidence, she decided to cut that route of retreat off with another roguish question, "You're not?" She smiled coyly at Peter, arching an eyebrow in her best flirtatious manner, her eyes dancing with hidden mirth. Her teasing manner was becoming ever-so-subtly enticing, creating an intimacy that hadn't been there a moment ago.

His eyes fixed on hers, Peter responded awkwardly, "Why would I be?"MJ watched with a deep satisfaction, out of all proportion to the innocuous subject of their conversation, as he visibly swallowed and began to look increasingly nervous. However much he might deny it, he was clearly interested and very off-balance, all because of her.

"I don't know, Peter. Why would you be?" she challenged lightly, upping the ante even further. Somewhere along the way she knew she had moved away from teasing and into outright flirtation, but she didn't care. He was too cute for words, and she found that all of a sudden she had a burning interest in the outcome of their conversation.

"I ..." Peter hesitated and MJ awaited his next words eagerly. "I don't know," he finally said. She sighed. Maybe it wasn't fair to expect Peter to admit to having a romantic interest in his best friend's girlfriend. And this wasn't the time or the place for a heart-to-heart with her boyfriend's roommate, either. "Sorry you won't come with us," said MJ at last, a little surprised by how genuinely sorry she was.

The two of them looked at each other for a moment in silence, and MJ thought that Peter's face looked almost ... disappointed? The moment was broken as rain began falling. "I better run, Tiger," she said, throwing one last flirtatious smile over her shoulder for good measure as she hurried away ...

Thinking back, MJ remembered her disappointment at Peter's hesitation. She had thought at the time that he was withdrawing from her because he was typically shy or uncertain of his feelings. Now, though, she knew that this conversation had resulted in a far more dramatic outcome. Instead of retreating, Peter had rescued her just a few seconds later, and then had finally responded to her subtle invitation by giving her an unforgettably passionate kiss in the rain. Well, actually, she had kissed him ... but he had kissed her back, all wild and deep, without any hesitation. And what an eye-opening kiss it was. Not only had it woken up a passionate girl inside of her – a girl she had never dreamed existed – but it had given her a really useful reference point as well.

Afterwards, she had perceived that Harry's kisses were full of desperation, not passion. She had walked out of that alley a changed woman, a woman with a much clearer understanding of her feelings, a woman longing to be with someone who truly loved her, who could give and not just take all the time. She'd even thought briefly that she had fallen in love with Spider-Man, possibly the most giving person around. Of course, it was Peter all the time – Peter whom she'd desired, dreamed of, looked for in the city's heights. Maybe the truth was that she had recognized Peter deep down inside, and had fallen in love with him that night. Or maybe she had already been falling in love with him for a while, and that kiss had merely brought her feelings into clear focus for the first time. Peter had a knack for bringing clarity with him. Whenever they were together, he would inadvertently show MJ facets of herself which she hadn't dreamed could exist.

And what about Peter, what had he been feeling that night? she wondered. One minute he'd been dodging and fielding her hints, refusing her unspoken invitation, and the next moment, a moment surely of high emotion after his second rescue of her, he had given into a long-suppressed impulse and kissed her. She wondered if Peter felt able to do things as Spider-Man that he couldn't do in ordinary life. No, she thought impatiently, that couldn't be it. Or if it had been so then, it clearly wasn't any more. Peter had pushed her out of his life for nearly two years, and even last night, while holding her in his arms on the crane, he had pulled back from kissing her a third time and then pushed her away from him again. Yes, it was an amazing revelation that Peter loved her, but why did she still have the feeling that she was missing something? What was the mystery that she still hadn't grasped?

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the car window and remembering the overwhelming feeling of Peter's arms holding her suspended high over the city. She had melted into him, but his muscles, except for a brief second when she'd made him smile, had been so tense. It was almost as though he couldn't relax, she realized. Was it because he was afraid? But what could the Amazing Spider-Man be afraid of? She tried to puzzle it out ... he couldn't be afraid of dropping her, since he had borne up her entire weight with just one hand – heck, he could probably do it with one finger. After the closeness they had shared while he held the warehouse wall off of her, he couldn't be afraid that she would reject him. He was definitely afraid of something, though, she thought, wrinkling her brow. Afraid of losing her? But he had just rescued her.

She opened her eyes, and with the part of her mind that wasn't occupied in looking sightlessly at the wet city streets and the lights streaking past, MJ ruminated once again on the words Peter had spoken to her up on the web. As soon as she told him that she'd always known who he really was, he had assumed that she would understand that they couldn't ever be together. Just because he was Spider-Man. He'd acted as though that was sufficient reason. "Then you know why we can't be together," he'd said. "I can't let you take that risk." A tiny spark of anger and stubbornness flared briefly inside of her. What if she didn't want to be safe – what if she wanted "to take that risk?" Why had it been necessary for Peter to sacrifice their happiness for nearly two years? Why was he still doing it? He certainly hadn't done so out of a lack of love, she thought, but maybe, just maybe, the Amazing Spider-Man was, for once, a little lacking in courage.

They were drawing up to a traffic light, its lights shifting, green, yellow, red: yes, wait, no.

Suddenly, MJ remembered the look of tender determination on Peter's face as they hung high over the docks together on his web. Mystified, she had thought until this moment that he was pushing her away despite his love ... but what if he was pushing her away because of it? Something shifted in her brain and she caught her breath. The depth of his love was once again taking her breath away. She'd known what was fuelling Peter's determination when he'd held that wall off her, but why hadn't she recognized it when she saw it again shortly afterward? Peter loved her far more than she'd realized, so much that he was willing to give her up. She was the reason he was able to argue so passionately and persuasively to Otto Octavius that sometimes, to do the right thing, it was necessary to give up a dream ...

"You're awfully quiet tonight," John's voice broke the silence.

"Just thinking, I guess," MJ said somberly. She regarded her soon-to-be husband thoughtfully for a moment. "John," she said at last, "Why do you love me?"

"What kind of question is that?" John asked with an awkward laugh. "I just do." He stopped his car at the light and turned toward her.

"Try to give me an answer," she coaxed. "Please. I really want to know."

"Uh ..." John appeared to be thinking hard. "There's no one else like you ... You get this faraway look sometimes, like you're thinking of a beautiful secret." He smiled. "Or sometimes you look mysteriously sad. That's it, I think ... You're my woman of mystery."

"How poetic," said MJ, sincerely touched. She fell silent, her eyes downcast. Unfortunately, she was a woman of mystery, even to herself. If someone had asked her, she couldn't have told what she was feeling at this moment. She didn't have a clue.

John was watching her closely, a serious expression on his face. "What's up?" he asked at last.

MJ came back from wherever it was she had gone. "Nothing," she said, affecting a nonchalant expression.

"You've been really quiet since the kidnapping," said John, easing the car forward again. "I guess I'm just wondering what's going on inside you."

MJ sighed, nervously twisting her diamond ring on her finger. "I'm wondering too." She looked over at her fiancé and gave him a plaintive smile. "When I figure it out, I promise that you will be the first to know."

John thought for a minute, and then said bluntly. "Thanks, but that's not good enough. We're getting married tomorrow afternoon, and I really want to know what's going on in your head."

MJ looked at him with new eyes. "I thought you liked me to be your woman of mystery," she remarked.

"Oh, I do," John said, grinning at her. "I'd just like few clues now and then."

She struggled to find the words. "I guess ... you know ... when you almost die, it really makes you take stock of your life. You start asking yourself all these questions: 'Who am I? What am I doing with my life? Am I where I want to be?' It happened to me once before, when I was thrown off the Queensboro bridge and nearly died."

"And did you find any answers to your questions then?" asked John.

"I thought I did," MJ said, and sighed. "But ... it didn't work out."

"And what about now?" John inquired.

MJ thought she detected a hint of fear lurking in his voice and felt a pang of pity for him as she considered his question. "I ... I don't have the answer yet." She shook her head and raised her eyes to his. "I'm sorry."

John was quiet. Then he said with forced cheerfulness. "But you'll tell me when you do."

She smiled fondly at him, and squeezed his arm warmly. "I'll tell you the second I do."

They pulled up in front of John's parents' huge house, and John got out of the car to open her door for her. As he gave her his hand to assist her out of his seat, MJ once more had the strange, unsettled feeling that nothing was quite real. They walked in silence up the front steps, and John opened the ornate glass and wood front door for her. As soon as he did, they were swept inside a maelstrom of voices, music, and bright lights. John's mother had really gone all out, as usual.

"It's the happy couple," a voice announced, and they were surrounded on all sides by smiling faces.

One aggressively cheerful one pushed its way forward through the crowd: "MJ, dear, you look lovely," gushed John's mother, taking MJ by the shoulders with her immaculately manicured hands, and placing two air kisses in the approximate vicinity of MJ's cheeks. "So very old-fashioned, almost rustic. It's adorable." MJ was wearing a simple, floral print dress and minimal make up; however, she hadn't been trying to look rustically adorable – it was simply that anything else had seemed like too much of an effort.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The press of people was carrying her inexorably away from John, whom she glimpsed being slapped on the back by one of his groomsmen. He looked over at her and shrugged with a rueful smile. Again MJ experienced an odd, dreamlike sensation while she looked around at the crowded front hallway, the people sipping drinks and leaning on the heavy wooden stair railing of the spiral staircase, the people milling about in doorways. She felt as though she were wading through molasses. "This seems like quite a party," she commented, looking back to John's mother in an attempt to keep her grip on reality. Everything appeared to be moving in slow motion.

"Absolutely everyone is here," beamed Joan Jameson. "Your wedding is going to be the biggest spring wedding this year."

"Is my mother here?" asked MJ, feeling suddenly tired and needing very much to see a well-known face. She'd called her mom briefly before going to bed the previous night, and a tearful, happy Madeline Watson had entreated her to come home for lunch, just so that she could be in the same room with her safely returned daughter for a little while. "Indulge a frantic mother," Madeline Watson had begged. "You almost died, honey ... I only want to touch you, hug you, see for myself that you're all right." But MJ had simply been too busy with last minute wedding details – getting her nails done, having a last fitting of her dress (which was unnecessary, since it fit perfectly and had done so from the first time she had tried it on), and, with John, inspecting the huge mountain of gifts that had started arriving at the house. Now she felt guilty about telling her mother that she didn't have the time to stop by, especially when she had somehow found time to read seven different newspaper accounts of Spider-Man's feats from the day before.

"Oh, yes, that reminds me – she's been asking for you," said Joan. "The last time I saw her she was over at the drinks table with your father." She pointed MJ through a large archway off the front hall, which led, MJ knew, into one of the two enormous, capacious living rooms that the house boasted.

MJ squeezed her way through the doorway, wondering again why there were so many people here. She thought rehearsal parties were only supposed to be for members of the wedding party and the immediate family. Obviously, John's mother had a very loose definition of immediate family. Surveying the room of strangers, MJ had the peculiar sensation that she was looking at the world from behind a warped glass wall. To make matters worse, she could hear that a little knot of people nearby were discussing the train accident and the fusion reaction in hushed, wondering tones. This subject, which only served to heighten her feelings of unreality, was the last one that MJ wanted to hear about at the moment.

She felt relieved when she spotted her parents standing against the wall behind the drinks table, looking unusually small and out of place among all the people. MJ could tell that her mother was monitoring her dad's drinking with a practiced eye, but even the normally brash Philip Watson seemed subdued. He looked as if he didn't quite know what to do with the expensive champagne in his glass. They caught sight of her, and Madeline Watson's face lit up. She charged through the crowd.

Engulfed in a tight hug, MJ could only manage, "Hi, Mom."

"My little girl!" said Madeline, her voice rather choked up. MJ squeezed her back gently, and then Madeline released her, hastily wiping her eyes with trembling hands. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "I've been on this roller-coaster for the last two days, and I'm still a bit weepy."

"It's okay, Mom." said MJ, smiling. "I know how you feel. Where's Dad?"

"Oh, he's over there," her mother said, half turning and gesturing toward the wall. "He's a little out of sorts at having to get dressed up and come to such a swanky do." She lowered her voice. "Don't worry. I won't let him do anything to embarrass you."

MJ said sincerely, "It doesn't matter. I think I'm becoming immune. But thank you, Mom." Looking into Madeline Watson's wan but smiling face, she appreciated her mother anew. She was a strong, capable woman, who had given up her dreams of becoming a Broadway actress when it had become clear that MJ's father was unwilling or unable to keep steady work. She'd managed to make a life for herself and her daughter. After working as a hairdresser on the side for years while a struggling actress, she had resourcefully started her own hair salon business from scratch and made it thrive. Madeline Watson, who had always worked hard to make sure that MJ could follow her own dreams, was the first person to teach MJ the meaning of dedicated self-sacrifice. Even now that she was sick, and completely worn out from her first round of chemo treatments three weeks earlier, she was still taking care of MJ in small ways.

"So are you all ready for tomorrow?" Madeline Watson was asking, while scanning her daughter's face a little uncertainly.

"Everything's done at last, and all John and I have left to do is just show up at the church," said MJ with a faint smile. She felt another stab of guilt at brushing her mom off earlier. "Listen, Mom, I'm really sorry that I couldn't make it for lunch today. I know you must have been out of your mind with worry and ..."

"It's fine, sweetie. Anna kept me company all day yesterday during that terrifying time, and today May Parker came over for a nice, long visit." Her mother gave her a weary smile. "I don't know what I am going to do after she moves."

MJ blinked, and the glass wall seemed to recede a little bit. "Aunt May is moving?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't," said MJ, inwardly reeling a little in shock. As long as she could remember May Parker had been nearby, welcoming her with her lovely smile and her gracious manner. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of Aunt May being gone, partly for the elderly lady's own sake, because she was so nice, and partly because ... well, there would be no more dropping in for refreshing, impromptu chats when she was home visiting her mother, no more gleaning little tidbits of information about Peter from his aunt, no more hoping against hope for the chance that she might actually bump into him at his aunt's someday ...

"I thought Peter might have mentioned it to you. He was over a few days ago, you know, helping her pack." Her mom shook her head, laughing a little. "He certainly has grown up. You know how your high-school friends used to call him ‛Puny Parker'? Well, May is donating some of her extra furniture to charity and from the bedroom window, I saw Peter, all by himself, dragging this big, old, heavy desk out of the garage for her, then around the house to the front lawn to be picked up."

MJ was hardly listening, thinking instead about what her life was going to look like with even less Peter in it.

"She's moving because the bank was foreclosing, and she wanted to leave with a little dignity ..." Madeline Watson's voice trailed off. She looked anxiously at her daughter. "Are you okay, Mary Jane? You look about a thousand miles away."

"Oh ... yeah, I'm alright." MJ forced a bright smile onto her face. "Just tired. It's been a really long day."

Madeline Watson looked at her daughter as though she very much wanted to say something. But she seemed to check herself, and patted MJ on the arm instead. "Go find John and tell him you need to go home early. It's not lucky for a bride to see her husband after midnight on the wedding day anyway."

"Maybe I will," said MJ. She hugged her mom again. "You'll meet me at the church tomorrow afternoon at two, to help me with my dress?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." said Madeline, returning the hug. "I'll tell your father you had to go and get your beauty rest. Go on, now."

MJ wandered back through the doorway of the vast living room, but John seemed to have disappeared from the vestibule. She overheard his father at the other end of the hallway, pontificating to a couple of city officials about how they needed to find some way to hold Spider-Man accountable for all the property damage he was always causing. In an attempt to avoid his notice, she ducked into the opposite living room and tried to get her bearings. Distractedly twisting her ring on her finger, she wondered if this was going to be her life from now on, wandering through crowded parties feeling as though she wasn't entirely there.

Inevitably, as it always did when she was alone, her mind returned to Peter, to the breathtaking realization she had arrived at in the car. It seemed that the depth of Peter's love for her was only matched by his fear. Or perhaps the two fed each other. If that was so, no wonder Peter had seemed paralyzed most of the time when she'd tried to reach out to him. He couldn't – or wouldn't – tell her the most important secret of his life, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of her completely either. Her mind wandered back to another party ...

MJ was shivering even though John had just loaned her his overcoat. Somehow, seeing Peter at the Planetarium tonight, the last place where she'd expected to see him again, had thrown her completely off balance and shattered her earlier good mood. The memory of catching sight of Peter in the crowd and feeling the same inexplicable connection to him that she had always felt, was making her at once desperately angry and painfully vulnerable. It felt like a raw wound, just scabbing over, had been roughly torn open again. If only there was a way to stop the pain ...

Lost in thought, she didn't even notice Peter approaching her cautiously from behind. "Hi," he said timidly.

She started at the sound of his greeting, but then she quickly got hold of herself and turned around to face him. The pain and anger she was fighting gave a sharp edge to her voice. "Oh ... you."

Peter's face was clenched and unhappy. Wide blue eyes appealed to her as he tried to apologize, voice cracking with emotion. "I'm sorry about the other night. There was..." She didn't want to him to continue; she couldn't stand to hear any more of his excuses, "...a disturbance ..."

Oh, brother. This one was even worse than the lame usher excuse that he'd tried to leave on her answering machine the day before. Who was this guy who was so cavalier with her feelings?

"I don't know you," MJ interrupted in a brittle voice. Then her face crumpled as she fought the tears rising in her throat and gathering in her eyes. His face had blanched, but she ignored him, choking out more hurtful words, "And I can't keep thinking about you. It's too painful." Great, now she felt as though she were pleading with him, begging him to stop the harm she was feeling. How pathetic.

An unpleasant silence strained between them. She could see Peter's distress as he cast about for something to say to soothe her, but she was hurting too much to care. "I've been reading poetry," he said suddenly.

What on earth was he talking about? MJ thought in annoyance. She didn't have the energy to puzzle out Peter's riddles tonight; she was rapidly running out of patience. She responded to his cryptic remark with exasperation. "Whatever that means," she said, disdainfully rolling her eyes.

"Day by day he gazed upon her," Peter was saying earnestly. His eyes had a liquid sheen to them. "Day by day he sighed with passion. Day by day..."

Was he mocking her? "Don't start," MJ said testily. She was getting dangerously close to losing her temper.

Peter blinked and tried again. "Uh ... can I get you a drink?"

When was he going to get the message? "I'm with John," MJ snapped. "He'll get me my drink." Now her temper was barely hanging by a thread.

"John," Peter repeated blankly. He looked stunned. MJ felt her brows knitting together as adrenalin spiked throughout her system. How dare he look like that – how dare he look so crestfallen, so heartbroken for heaven's sake, when he had rejected her - no, not only that, when he had consistently refused to be a part of her life, as recently as two nights ago.

Suddenly MJ was so angry that nothing was going to keep her from giving Peter a well-deserved, long-overdue piece of her mind. "By the way," she said, her voice shaking a little with suppressed anger. "John has seen my show five times. Harry has seen it twice. Aunt May has seen it. My sick mother dragged herself out of bed to see it. Even my dad ..."

She faltered for a second, her dad's total lack of interest in her life a very sore spot, as always. He'd brought her mom and her Auntie Anna to the theater, had the nerve to show up backstage before the curtain to borrow money from her, and had then gone out with his buddies instead of staying for her performance. For reasons obscure even to herself, in a split second decision, she chose not to varnish the truth. "He came backstage to borrow cash," she admitted candidly, her mouth twisting wryly. Wait a minute ... why was she telling Peter this, anyway?

She re-focused on what she'd wanted to say to him for two days now. "But my best friend, who cares so much about me, can't even make an eight o'clock curtain. After all these years ..." She felt her voice catch "... he's nothing to me but an empty seat."

There was nothing else to say. She walked resolutely away before the hot angry tears that were threatening to fall could get the chance. But they still blinded her, blurring the crowded balcony in front of her, and turning the streetlights into watery streaks of light against the black sky. She was trying to make a rapid beeline for the ladies' room in order to collect herself, but she wasn't looking where she was going, so naturally she crashed headlong into a tall form, nearly bowling him over.

"Whoa, steady there." Gentle hands took hold of her elbows and stopped her in place. She looked up into John's smiling face. "Where are you going at top speed?"

MJ forced her grief down, smoothing out her expression. She regarded her boyfriend closely. Good, strong, dependable John. He was always there for her – and she suspected he always would be. It was time to grow up, to put an end to his suspense. He'd been waiting patiently for over a month now for MJ to make up her mind, and she finally knew what she wanted. She wanted someone who would love her, someone who would be around when she needed him, someone who would make her forget her pain. John was all of those things and more. "Looking for you, actually," she answered him with a smile.

"Well, you found me," said John, offering her his arm and leading her back through the glass door. Once inside, he helped her take off his coat, then said teasingly, "What are you going to do with me now that you've got me?"

"Keep you," MJ said, giving him a long, steady look, a hint of promise in her smile.

MJ winced as she remembered her hard words to Peter at that party. Why had she said such cold, unforgiving things to him? How they must have stabbed into him! If only he had told her, if only he had trusted her with the truth ... she would never have been so angry about Peter missing a little play performance, if she had known that he was out saving someone's life, or battling Doc Ock, or catching a criminal.

She thought too about her own feelings of anger and pain that night. She should have recognized then that she still loved Peter. Of course, it was only because she loved him that his continued rejection of her, what she'd thought was his apparent indifference, had wounded her so deeply. No wonder she'd run away from him, looking for John to make it all better, to make it go away. She grimaced at the unwelcome realization that she'd gotten engaged to one man in an effort to forget another. Talk about a rebound.

Then it occurred to her that Peter, in trying to keep her safe, hadn't given much thought to her feelings, and, all at once, she was full of righteous indignation. He wanted to keep her safe from harm, but so far, he had unwittingly been the cause of the greatest harm she'd ever experienced, harm which had come from the thought that the man she loved didn't love her back. Fears from childhood had risen up inside of her, fears that she was unlovable, fears she'd had to live with and strive to overcome for months. Knowing that Peter loved her after all eased that particular hurt, but the knowledge that he hadn't trusted her with the truth was now bothering her almost as much. Did he think she was a child? Standing there unseen in midst of the crowded party, MJ felt an angry desire to force Peter out of hiding, a strong need to confront him, a passionate compulsion to make him acknowledge her feelings ...

But what did she think she was she doing? She was getting married to John tomorrow, and she owed it to him to stop thinking about another man. She had to put him first and move on with her life. Sighing, MJ forced herself to quit playing with her ring, and went to find her fiancé.

End of Part VI

A/N: Thank you to the readers who have stuck with this interminable fic. There's only the wedding day and the reunion between MJ and Peter left to write, so hopefully it won't go on too much longer. Review, please, and tell me what you think! Suggestions are also welcome.