Disclaimer: Not mine. Theirs. What else is there to say?

A/N: I've extended the story beyond the last frame of the movie, as some of you requested, although I must apologize in advance for the fact that somehow this epilogue became longer and more meandering than the final chapter itself. I also apologize for the (probably) excessive fluff; it's there because I rather thought they deserved it after all the angst. I make no apologies for shirtless Peter, though. (Tee hee!)

Memories and Revelations

Epilogue

MJ was startled out of a deep sleep by a distinct thud resounding on the metallic balcony. Flustered, she sat up quickly, catching sight of the clock. Three whole hours had passed while she slept, and the sunlight had faded from a mid-afternoon gold to an early evening copper. She looked toward the balcony. Wearing his full costume, which looked a lot less pristine than the last time she'd seen it a few hours ago, Peter was standing in the doorway of the glass french door, gazing at her. "I can't believe you're still here," he breathed in a tone of mingled wonder and relief. "You look like an angel." Pausing just inside the doorway, he seemed almost afraid to move, as if she was an illusion that he might dispel if he came too close.

MJ arched an eyebrow and stood up. "I'm flesh and blood, Peter Parker, and you should know that I won't be going anywhere." She walked to the balcony door and pulled it shut. Then she stepped up close to him. As she drew nearer, she noticed his costume was scorched in a few places around the torso. She could also detect a strong, acrid whiff of smoke clinging to his suit.

"So I guess I'm caught, huh?" Peter asked happily. She reached for his mask, and gently began rolling it up over his chin, past his lips, pausing only when she reached his nose. Then, tracing his jaw delicately with her fingertips, MJ gave him a quiet, experimental kiss. Heavens but he had a splendid mouth – full, firm and velvety. She lingered over it, inwardly exulting in the thought that now she could kiss him as much as she liked, whenever she liked. After a moment, she broke the kiss for a second to say roguishly, "Very caught. Say good-bye to your freedom, Spider-Man."

"Good-bye, freedom," Peter said nonchalantly, and he bent to kiss her again, pressing a warm hand into the small of her back. This kiss was also soft and slow in the beginning, but it heated up quickly, until they had to stop for a second to catch their breaths. As they did, MJ reached up again, pulling the mask the rest of the way off of Peter's face. Brilliant blue eyes met hers, shining with joy and warmth.

"You have no idea how good it is that you're still here, Mary Jane," Peter's voice was husky.

"Are you home now?" MJ asked uncertainly. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure if Peter ever took any time off. She sure hoped that he did, for both their sakes.

"For the time being." Peter said absently. He was still gazing into her eyes. "Do you want to do something together?" he murmured after a minute.

"Well ..." said MJ, placing her hand lightly on his chest, and tracing the edge of his collarbone with her fingertips. He shivered at her touch, but stood his ground. "We could pick up where we left off when we were so rudely interrupted earlier." She gave him a sly look and he put both his gloved hands on her waist, pulling her flush against him. A welcome tingling sensation spread through her body at the intimate contact. She was acutely aware of Peter, of his magnetic eyes, of the thinness of his costume acting as the flimsiest of barriers between their bodies, and of the way that the stretchy material molded itself to his skin, showing every well-defined contour of his muscular form.

"Mmmm," said Peter, clearly as distracted as she was.

"Or you could give me something to eat," MJ said, smiling more widely. "I haven't had anything since breakfast, so I am getting a little hungry."

"Mmmm," Peter hummed again. He closed his eyes as her fingertips traced slow circles on his breastbone, then opened them again in sudden alarm. "What did you say? You're hungry?" He started babbling, "Ohmigod, MJ, I am so incredibly sorry. Leaving you here alone all this time ... nothing to eat in the apartment ... I am such a poor host ..."

MJ laughed a rich, happy laugh and said, "Take it easy, Tiger. I'm not going to expire of hunger on the spot. I found some cold pizza in the little fridge while I was exploring earlier. I could have that. I love cold pizza."

"Are you kidding?" Peter said incredulously. "Aunt May would have a stroke if she found out you were here and I'd served you cold pizza. Plus it's two days old. We should go out."

MJ looked over at Peter's tiny mirror, eyeing the distant reflection of the two of them standing close together. They looked like a mismatched pair from a Hallowe'en masquerade or a costume party. "Neither of us is really dressed for a date," she said dryly. "I vote for the option of picking up where we left off earlier this afternoon. Here's a novel idea: we could order another fresh pizza, have it delivered, and stay in." Her eyes twinkled merrily at him as she lifted her arms, accidentally brushing against his shoulders as she began winding them tightly around his neck. But all at once he flinched, gasping, and reared back out of her embrace. With a gloved hand, he squeezed his upper arm just below his shoulder, his shoulders hunching and his face contorting in pain.

Anxiously MJ exclaimed, "You're hurt! What happened?"

Peter sat down heavily on his bed, rubbing his shoulder and arm. "There was a bad fire in a high-rise apartment building," he said wearily. "Man, I hate fires, especially in tall buildings." He continued to rub his shoulder a little, looking down at it. "I hate the heat and the smoke, the way that it rises up to the ceiling, and goes up stairwells, up elevator shafts, through air vents ... just everywhere. I don't know how firemen do it." He shook his head, and MJ came to stand in front of him, wanting to be near him, wanting to comfort him.

"How did you hurt yourself?" she asked softly, not sure she wanted to know.

"The roof of one of the apartments collapsed while I was trying to get a couple of kids out." He rotated his shoulder, grimacing. "I was carrying them, crouched low to the ground, so I couldn't duck out of the way, and I got hit by some kind of metal support."

She felt frightened at the thought of how much danger he must have been in, but she knew that she had to confront her fear. "Tell me about it," she said quietly, kneeling down in front of him, her elaborate dress rustling and swishing around her as she did.

"Well as near as I could find out," said Peter slowly, "a fire started in one apartment on a middle floor. Don't know why. The firefighters I was working with weren't sure exactly what had happened. They said that they thought the people who lived in the burning apartment had fled, leaving the door wide open."

MJ shuddered inwardly at the thought of Peter rushing in and out of a burning building, but outwardly she schooled her face into a quiet, listening expression. Peter shifted himself laboriously around and backwards, so that he could support his aching shoulder against the wall behind his bed. He appeared so uncomfortable that MJ hoped fervently that he wouldn't need to dash off to another rescue, at least until his shoulder was better.

"I wish people would pay more attention to fire safety in school and remember that oxygen feeds fires," Peter was commenting with chagrin as he settled himself. "Anyway, the fire had spread quickly through the whole floor – the walls were these thin curtain walls and the sprinkler system was ancient. Of course, since it's Saturday, nearly everyone was home. By the time I arrived, there were people trapped in the stairwells, gradually being asphyxiated, there were people trapped on the roof or in the apartments above the fire, and there was a lot of structural damage to the apartments near the fire, which was preventing the firefighters from getting close to it." He lifted haunted eyes to her face. "I couldn't get everyone out in time. Two people in one of the stairwells asphyxiated before I reached them."

"What about the ones that you did get out?" MJ asked encouragingly. Peter looked so miserable for a minute that she wanted to take his mind off his failures and focus it on his successes. "Tell me how you saved them." She reached out to rest a gentle, comforting hand on one of his knees.

"I basically let the firemen do their thing," Peter said quietly, a distant look on his face. "I went into the places that they couldn't get to because it was too dangerous. I grabbed people, carried them back through the fire to the firefighters, and let them do the rest. I just kept doing it until there was no one left to rescue." He took a deep breath, and passed a hand over his tired eyes. "For the people on the roof, I used my webbing and wove rope bridges to a nearby building so that they could climb across to another roof while I was busy inside. The ones who were too hurt or scared to make it, I ferried down to the street one or two at a time." He shrugged. "It wasn't enough. It's never enough."

MJ felt queasy at the thought of Peter struggling, racing against time, risking his life over and over in that confined space. It could have been his coffin. She forced down her nausea and murmured, "I'm sure the people that you saved think differently." He looked at her quizzically while she tried to find the right words. "You're a hero to everyone whose life you have saved, to everyone who wouldn't still be around except for you." She couldn't believe that he'd never thought of this, but he seemed to need to hear it, so for good measure she added, "You're my hero." Then she sighed, and gave a self-conscious little laugh. Before she could help it, she blurted out, "I'm afraid I won't be good enough for you."

Peter's face changed. His mouth twisted in a wry smile and he looked at his hands. "MJ, that is so ... that's silly. You are ..." He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes again, "the most beautiful soul I have ever met ..." He picked up her hand, turning it over inside his and squeezing it gently "... the best, the strongest, the kindest woman I know." His blue eyes were deep and focused as they gazed into hers. "I have loved you for so long ..." His voice trailed off.

"How long?" MJ queried with keen interest. She loved it when Peter gave her glimpses inside himself.

Peter looked shy. "A long time," he hedged. He looked away, but when she continued waiting hopefully, quirking an eyebrow at him, he mumbled, "since before I even liked girls." They looked at each other again and MJ thought, Wow.

Then Peter's expression lightened suddenly as a new thought occurred to him. "You know, it's actually making the whole experience a bit better to talk about it with you." He released her hand and stretched his sore arm, a more peaceful look on his face. "I've never had anyone to talk about my experiences with before."

"Do you want to keep talking?" inquired MJ. "I could ask you questions." He nodded, but then she hesitated. Finally she asked the question that was foremost in her mind. "How – how can you go into places, you know, that are too dangerous for trained firefighters?"

Peter looked back at her, noticing for the first time her white face, her suspiciously red eyes, her trembling hands. "It's okay, MJ," he said gently, leaning forward to take both her hands in his. "I'm fine. I was never in any life-threatening danger."

"You say that," MJ choked, unable to stop herself, "But it can't be true if trained firefighters didn't dare to enter those places."

"It's not like that," said Peter, shaking his head. He caressed the backs of her hands comfortingly with his gloved thumbs. "They don't have my reflexes. Sometimes, for me, thought is action. And despite what The Bugle says, I don't waste time on unnecessary heroics when lives are at stake. But I can move extremely fast, and I have this ... ability," he paused, thinking hard, "I have this ... extra sense that allows me to find the safest way through danger. It also warns me if something is about to hurt me, or if there is someone nearby who is going to be hurt. I don't even need to see what's coming; this sense lets me be aware of everything around me all the time."

MJ stared at him, startled out of her threatening tears. This "extra sense" sounded very cool, but it didn't change one important fact. "You still got hurt," MJ pointed out. "Your shoulder seemed to be very painful just now. We need to go to a hospital and get it looked at," she insisted. "It could be broken."

"There's no need to do anything," Peter said calmly. He looked into her eyes and suddenly smiled. "I still can't believe you're here, taking care of me. It's so good that you're here."

"Don't change the subject," MJ scolded. She rose slowly from her kneeling position on the floor, shook out her dress, and then sat down facing him on the bed, feeling afraid again. "What do you normally do when you get badly hurt, Peter?"

"Hardly ever happens," Peter said honestly. "When it does, I just manage by myself, using my webs and ordinary medical supplies. I can't exactly go to an emergency room. I'd have to explain each injury and some of them would appear pretty odd."

"But what do you do if you are deeply cut and bleeding, or if you are badly hurt by a gun shot?" MJ asked. "Surely you can't stitch yourself up, or set broken bones."

"Don't need to," said Peter matter-of-factly. "I heal quickly. Very quickly." When he saw by her face that she was still unsatisfied, he elaborated a little. "My webs make great bandages and slings. They suture wounds better than stitches ever would."

MJ bit her lip. She had a feeling Peter could be pretty independent-minded and stubborn. Plus he had just admitted without realizing it that his injuries were more common than he'd like her to believe. "At least let me look at your shoulder," she pleaded softly. She doubted it would do any good but she simply could not be in the same room with him, knowing that he was injured, without trying to do something about it.

Peter looked at her thoughtfully for a minute, frowning a little as he apparently waged some internal battle with himself over whether or not to comply with her request. She knew he was a very private person, and she supposed that she had transgressed some boundary or invaded his space. But suddenly his expression cleared and he smiled his deep, warm smile into her eyes, causing her stomach to flip over. Then he pulled off his gloves, laying them carefully beside him on the bed, and slowly, painfully, started to roll up his tight sleeve. As he pushed it up past his elbow, MJ got onto her knees and crawled up the bed amidst a tremendous swish of gauzy fabric to be nearer to him, touching his shoulder very lightly and gently as she settled at his side. It was swollen and she could feel palpable heat coming from it. She moved her hand onto his bicep, and grew distracted by the incredible feel of his sculpted, muscular upper arm. She had never felt the skin there before. It was smooth and silken, and she experienced a heady rush at touching it. She forced herself to concentrate, and realized that she couldn't even see where he'd been hurt because his sleeve wouldn't go up far enough. Tentatively, she slid her fingers under the edge of the stretchy fabric, inching her way up to his shoulder.

Peter inhaled sharply, but he didn't flinch. His gasp didn't seem to have anything to do with pain, so she probed a little further, watching his face to make sure she wasn't hurting him. He looked back at her with keen eyes that saw everything about her, piercing all the way down to her core.

MJ found she couldn't look away. "Does this hurt?" she asked in an unsteady voice.

"No." Peter swallowed visibly. "Wait a minute," he said quietly. He gazed into her eyes for another second and then, to her utter surprise, he reached for the waist of his suit, and began to pull his red shirt slowly, gingerly, up over his chest, moving with difficulty as though lifting his arm was hurting him. When he tried to raise the tight shirt over his injured shoulder, his breath hitched painfully and she reached up to help him ease it over the edge so they could pull it off his head together. As soon as they were done, he dropped the now shrunken shirt from nerveless fingers onto the pile of his clothing on the floor, and exhaled heavily.

MJ froze as everything inside her came to a complete stop. Her mouth went dry. He was beautiful ... smooth and chiseled, lean and strong, and … bare.

Peter rested against the wall behind the head of the bed, still looking at her, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks, and his hair adorably ruffled from pulling the tight shirt over his head. He drew in rapid, shallow breaths as he watched her, and she thought that his blue eyes twinkled at her obvious admiration. She could see every breath in the movements of his chest and stomach and she was mesmerized.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, MJ wished she could keep herself from staring, but Peter's body came as such a pleasant surprise that there was no hope of modesty now. Prompted by an unstoppable new fascination, she reached out to touch his naked chest, only remembering herself just before her fingers made contact with the firm expanse of skin. Embarrassed, she realized that her hand had not been anywhere near his shoulder and dropped it into her lap, her face flaming. He would know what she had wanted to do.

"Go ahead," he said, huskily, and again she seemed to be drowning in a sea of blue. Pulling herself together, she shifted around so that she was sitting right next to him, up against the wall. "Lean forward," she said, managing to keep her voice steady this time. "Let me see your shoulder."

He complied, raising his knees and folding his arms on them, giving her perfect access to his bare shoulder. As she passed a gentle palm over the curve of his back heading towards it, he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. His shoulder felt puffy and hot, and she leaned back to get a good look at it. She gasped when she saw the angry, swollen combination of red, purple and black marring the skin. "It must be broken," she breathed nervously.

"I'm fairly sure it's just a bad bruise, Mary Jane," said Peter in a reassuring voice, looking at her over his shoulder. "It will start to fade in an hour or so and by tomorrow it will be gone," he stated definitively. He gave her an encouraging smile.

MJ wanted to argue, but she bit her tongue and looked again at his wounded shoulder, moving her hand softly from the top curve, back along the shoulder blade and in towards the dense, compact muscles there. Of course, Peter knew his own body best, and he probably also knew what he was talking about from far too much experience, experience that she was sure she didn't want the details of. She felt a rush of love, and stroked his sore shoulder with a feather-light touch, wanting to fix him, wanting to keep him safe. Peter sighed happily and she regarded his face. She could just make out the curve of his cheek, and she saw from the long, sweeping lashes resting there that his eyes had closed at her latest touch. Not for the first time, she realized that she wanted never to stop touching him. His skin was satiny and firm, and he obviously liked her caresses: his lips parted as she brushed her fingertips up over his shoulder blade again, stopping just below the swollen shoulder. She felt a warm thrill at the thought of bringing him pleasure in this simple way.

He leaned further forward, shifting away from the wall, giving her access to more of his back. It felt so good to touch him like this that she moved her hand a bit lower along his side, scraping her perfectly manicured fingernails lightly on his skin. He made a muffled noise deep in his chest, and leaned almost all the way forward, offering the whole of his back.

Feeling very daring, MJ worked herself between his back and the wall. Her voluminous skirt got in the way, bunching up between them, so she impatiently pulled it high around her waist, and pushed the bulk of it to one side, where it streamed off the bed and puddled on the floor. Then, blushing a little at how immodest she must look, she stretched her stocking-encased legs along each side of him, bending her knees slightly and getting ready to pull him into her arms.

"Lean back now," she said, and paused, shocked at how low and velvety her voice sounded. Where had that tone come from? With another soft, happy noise, Peter leaned back at once, reclining against her heavily, with his head lolling comfortably on her shoulder. She thrilled at the relaxed weight of him, at the heat of his body radiating through the stiff bodice of her dress and burning into her chest. Without stopping to think about it, she lifted her hand and traced the slope of his toned stomach, reveling in the smooth lines of it and in the tautness of the muscles underneath the surface. A shockwave rippled up her arm and lodged in the pit of her belly. Her excitement grew as she began running her fingers lightly along his ribs, moving them gradually towards the center of his chest. But all at once Peter caught her roving hand, gripping it gently around the wrist and stopping her. Then he craned his neck back, and she realized his eyes were now open as he fixed her with hot, intense look, before he swiftly closed the remaining distance between them by tilting his head toward her and kissing her.

His mouth was urgent and tender, and she wanted to rediscover everything about it. She parted her lips against his and lightly flicked her tongue along his once. When he responded with a light, scintillating touch of his own, a rhythm built between them that they could not control or slow down. "Oh, Peter," she murmured, half-drunkenly. "Peter ..." She almost didn't recognize her own voice, it sounded so desperate and needy.

Peter continued kissing her deeply, loosening his hold on her wrist and instead covering her hand with his in a warm clasp. She drew him even closer with her other arm and pressed feverish, open-mouthed kisses into his delicious mouth, exulting in the tiny whimper that Peter made in the back of his throat as she did. A spiral of intense heat had started in the pit of her stomach and was coiling throughout her body, making her think wicked thoughts. Giving into them, she spread her free hand across his chest, palm flat against his wonderful skin, and then began sweeping it slowly across and down and around as she kissed him, wanting to feel every inch of his front. He gave a full body shudder, and, lightning-fast, caught her other wrist with the hand of his bad arm, flinching as the sudden movement resulted in a twinge of pain. "You vixen," he gasped, his voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"Pete, I'm so sorry," said MJ, instantly contrite. "I just meant to tease you, and I didn't think about your poor shoulder."

"Oh, I know what you meant to do," Peter said, sitting up slowly. Sliding himself forward, he swung his feet off the side of the bed and looked back at her as she leaned weakly against the wall in a totally breathless and disheveled state. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes this time. "I'm just not sure if my shoulder can handle what you have in mind at the moment," he murmured, bending toward her to give her a soft little kiss. They were sweetly distracted for a few seconds, until Peter pulled away again and asked in a slightly shaky voice, "How about we order that pizza now?"

"Sounds great," said MJ, still trying to catch her breath. She was hungry all right, but not for pizza. She eyed him like a cat with a bowl full of cream. "How long did you say it usually takes you to heal?"

Peter laughed, reddening slightly. "Depends," he said, a little shyly. "Sometimes, if I am motivated, I'll feel better in less than an hour, sometimes it takes until the next morning, and sometimes another day or so."

MJ leaned very far forward, this time sliding her arms around Peter's neck gently and slowly, being careful not to brush against his sore shoulder. She gave him a beguiling look from under her lashes. "And are you motivated to get better quickly now?" she asked seductively. She closed the remaining sliver of distance between them, and planted a soft, teasing kiss on his lips.

"I didn't mean ..." Peter stumbled over his words, as her lips found his again, tugging softly and insistently on his mouth in a way that had them both shivering at the tiny, delicious thrills that began coursing through their bodies. He tried again. "If someone needs my help, I can usually ignore ..." he mumbled, until he was once more side-tracked as MJ kissed him, simultaneously sliding even closer to him on the bed, her dress rustling and whispering with promise behind her. When she was right next to him, she sinuously wrapped her silky, stocking-clad legs around his waist. "Oh boy ..." Peter managed to say in a strangled voice, before her lips descended on his again for yet another succulent kiss.

"Even better," MJ murmured happily between kisses. "I'll gladly distract you from your pain." All of a sudden, Peter was pressing her body firmly against him, his hands resting on the middle of her bare back while he returned her kisses with definite enthusiasm, his mouth lingering longer over hers with each one. Their succession of lazy, lengthening kisses became one pleasurable, continuous, almost endless kiss that went on and on, intensifying steadily the longer it lasted. As they clung together, MJ drew a hand down from around Peter's neck, passing it slowly over his collarbone and eventually curling it possessively over one of his sculpted pecs. His smooth chest felt like warm, satiny marble and she touched it with delight, becoming more adventurous by the second. As she trailed her fingers down, over and around his front, he shuddered again, but this time he made no move to stop her, so she continued caressing him freely while their lips mingled, parted and joined again heatedly.

While she caressed him, Peter in return stroked her bare upper back tentatively and lightly with both hands as he kissed her. She thought she might swoon from the heady, drugged feeling of pleasure that suffused her body at his touch. Little electric shocks seemed to pass from his fingers into her, sparking along her spine and settling in her belly, before eventually spreading everywhere else, creating as they did a succession of warm tingles that grew into undulating waves. The feeling was so dizzying she almost felt as though she were slowly sinking backwards – until suddenly the rough, scratchy flannel of the blanket grazed against her tender skin and she realized abruptly that Peter had gently pushed her onto her back. Now, despite his sore shoulder, he was easily supporting himself on his elbows and looming over her as she lay beneath him, offering up to him her most passionate kisses and caressing his strong back with both her hands. Giving her ardent, focused kisses in return, he pressed her deeply into the bed with his firm chest, as though trying to get as close as possible. Since his feet were still on the floor, though, he was contorting his body sideways at an odd angle to reach her. Yet he didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort – or so the leisurely tenderness of his kisses, and his cute, intermittent murmurs of satisfaction suggested.

MJ's head was spinning. Although Peter wasn't allowing his full weight to rest on her, she felt encompassed and surrounded; she relished the pressure and the burning heat of his body; she craved even more of the exquisite, dizzying sensations that their kisses were arousing inside her. Eagerly, she unwrapped her legs from around his waist, stretching them out widely on the bed to give him more freedom to maneuver ... but instead of settling fully on top of her, Peter gently pulled back, disentangling himself carefully from her arms and legs, and sat up for a second time.

"You are incredibly tempting, Mary Jane," Peter said in a slightly hoarse voice, "But I really think we should stop now." She pouted adorably and he averted his gaze from her pursed lips hastily. "I could kiss you forever, MJ, you know that," he said, his voice unsteady "... but everything between us is so ... new and ..." He returned wide and anxious eyes to hers, and she was touched to see how nervous he was.

Then Peter got hold of himself and added softly, "Believe me, Mary Jane, I want you ... I want us to be together ..." Her stomach turned over at the intent look in his deep blue eyes. He wasn't finished, though. "But not like this – in this ugly room with paper-thin walls, with you still wearing the wedding dress you were going marry another man in." He was silent for a moment, just looking at her. Finally he softly asked, "Can we take things slow tonight? After all, this is sort of our first date. We have so much to talk about." Then he smiled shyly at her, looking unbelievably cute. "If there are no interruptions, I'd like to spend some time together just hanging out and eating pizza. Later, when it's dark enough, and once the shoulder is better, Spider-Man will take you for a wild tour of the city on the way home, if you like."

Still disoriented by their kisses, and a little embarrassed at her wantonly uncovered legs and totally disheveled appearance, MJ could only nod for a second. Privately, she had to admit that it was rather unusual not to be the one to put on the brakes – a nice change, but a little disconcerting. She sat up herself, arranging her now very creased skirts to cover her legs modestly. "It's okay, Tiger," she reassured him when she finally found her voice. Come to think of it, the thought of spending a quiet evening with her love, followed by another remarkable high-flying ride through the city, was incredibly appealing. Aloud, she added, "You've got yourself a date, Peter Parker." Her green eyes gleamed at him with humor and happiness.

"Whoo hoo," whooped Peter like a gleeful kid. He gave her a quick, enthusiastic kiss, and then his face sobered. He sighed, "I just wish the setting were a little more romantic." He stood up as he was speaking and walked over to one of the crates. Pulling out a plain white t-shirt, which read "Math League '01" across the front, he put it on, this time hesitating only briefly as he lifted his sore arm over his head. MJ couldn't help being a little sorry to be losing sight of all that gorgeous real estate which was now being covered up.

Tugging the t-shirt down over his flat stomach, Peter smiled sheepishly at her, "You'll think it's silly, but I used to spend a lot of time in high school imagining what we would do on our first date if we ever went out."

"What did you plan for us to do?" asked MJ, intrigued. He was so sweet. And despite the fact that he was right about the ordinary, drab and unromantic appearance of the room, now that he had returned, she knew that this evening was definitely, without question, turning into the most romantic date she'd ever had.

"Oh, different things," said Peter, blushing a little again. "It varied with the season. In the winter, I'd imagine us skating under the stars; in the summer, we'd be biking around the neighborhood, or walking through a green park." He paused, looking off into the distance for a second, and a shadow crept across his face. "Once I thought I would like to get my hands on a car, and take you driving wherever you wanted to go." He re-focused on her eager, amused face and drew in a shaky breath. Then he resumed, "After I became Spider-Man, I used to imagine taking you soaring through the city, or building you a web high in the air so we could enjoy the spectacular view."

It was interesting to know that there was a "before" and "after" in Peter's life; MJ filed that last intriguing little tidbit of information away in the back of her mind for future reference. The rest of her mind was thoroughly delighted at Peter's imagined dates. Then she had a mischievous thought. "You know, this isn't really our first date, Pete," MJ smiled, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You've already taken me flying, and just two days ago you built me that fantastic web ... I'd say that this qualifies as a third date."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "You don't give up easily, do you?" he said in amused admiration. His blue eyes twinkled like a starry night sky. Then, when she shook her head merrily, he defiantly pulled out his desk chair and sat down with the air of someone who wanted to put as much distance as possible between them. MJ briefly enjoyed the thought that, if she wanted to, she could make Peter suddenly seek to close that too-wide gap, with about as little effort as lifting her baby finger. She'd never felt so powerful, so desirable, as he was making her feel. But she could be magnanimous in her newfound power – for the moment, she allowed Peter to remain where he was.

His smile fading, Peter regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. Clearly, he had something on his mind. "Mary Jane, you're absolutely sure you want to be with me?" he asked reluctantly. MJ stared at him. Where was this last-minute doubt coming from? She felt more than a little exasperated.

"Silly me. I would have thought the fact that I pined for you for nearly two years, ran away from my wedding and waited here all afternoon would convince you," she remarked incredulously. She held his eyes with hers, determined to make him see that she was in deadly earnest once and for all. "Yes, Peter Parker, I love you ... I want to spend my life with you."

Peter blushed adorably again, and said, "I just meant ... I don't think you have any idea of how crazy my life can get." He shook his head. "How much crazier it's about to get."

"What do you mean?" asked MJ in concern.

Peter smiled ruefully. "You're not the only who saw me with my mask off two days ago, MJ. A whole carful of passengers on that train I stopped saw my face." She thought she could detect a hint of fear behind his eyes. "Someday soon someone's going to figure out who Spider-man is, and people are going to come looking for me." He regarded the floor. "They may be looking for me right now."

"Peter, haven't you been reading the newspapers?" MJ asked softly. Peter shook his head. It occurred to her that maybe he was afraid to look at them, afraid that he'd already been exposed. She felt another warm rush of love, this time mixed with pity. She could help alleviate these fears, at least a little. "Well, I read over half a dozen different accounts of your exploits, and I watched quite a few television news stories as well. No one on that train has even mentioned that you weren't wearing your mask."

"Really?" said Peter in amazement. "They said they wouldn't ..." His voice died away for a moment. Then he frowned. "That doesn't mean that someone won't come forward later."

MJ shrugged. "We'll deal with that if it happens – but I doubt that any of those people will say anything, I really do. You should have heard them. All they could talk about was what a hero you were. They're really grateful, and they said so. They owe you their lives, Pete ... people don't forget a debt like that."

Peter was silent for a moment, thinking, then he met her eyes again. "Someone else saw my face that night, MJ," he said quietly. "It was Harry."

Whoa, this was bad news – a real blow. MJ had not listened to Harry's vehement tirades against Spider-Man at different times for nothing. But no matter how tormented and childish he could be, Harry was still Harry. She had to believe that. So she said gently, "I know that Harry hates Spider-Man. But he's also your friend, Pete, and he really loves you." MJ went on, "Maybe now that he knows who you are, he'll give up his grudge." Something niggled her in the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"It's not that simple," Peter replied, wearing a grim expression. His face darkened and his eyes grew angry. "Harry was the one who put in motion all that insanity – your kidnapping, the second fusion experiment ..." Peter spoke in voice of quiet rage, "He traded Oscorp's supply of tritium for a chance to kill Spider-Man, and he didn't care that you could have died ... that the city could have been leveled ..." He folded his arms, his body tense and coiled up with suppressed fury.

MJ's head started to throb as she suddenly remembered Ock's cryptic words. Had Harry really let his obsession with Spider-Man take him that far? Could their friend really turn into a murderer? She shuddered at the thought. As if in answer to her silent questions, Peter continued, "He stood over me with a dagger, MJ, and he would have stabbed me. I know he wanted to kill me – he was deadly serious – I could see it in his eyes." Peter's look was bleak. "I was still really woozy from being knocked out by Dr. Octavius, and I escaped because Harry just couldn't resist knowing who I was, what I looked like ... When he took my mask off and saw my face, well ... then he dropped the knife."

"See?" MJ encouraged. Peter's story was almost unbelievable, making Harry sound like a total stranger, or some kind of a nut. Maybe both. She felt as though she was grasping at a thread, but Peter seemed in such low spirits that she had to say something positive. "Harry couldn't go through with it. That's because deep down he cares about you, and he'll know now that you couldn't have killed his father."

Peter just looked at her for a minute, his face still, his eyes deep and unfathomable. She was just starting to wonder if there was something he wasn't telling her, when he spoke again, and the sadness in his voice drove the thought from her mind. "Even before he knew I was Spider-Man, I think Harry was starting to hate me." Peter's expression clouded even further, and he wore a heart-wrenching look of regret on his face. "Spider-Man has come between us and ruined any trust that we used to share ... but, even without that little complication, he has apparently resented me for a long time."

"What are you talking about?" said MJ with a tiny disbelieving laugh. "I remember how you used to help him with his homework, how much time you used to spend together. You were inseparable."

"I know." If possible Peter looked even more regretful, and MJ was sorry she had brought up the past. "But you should have seen him that night at the Planetarium party, MJ." He sighed heavily. "He blames me for everything ... for losing you, for the way his father treated him ..."

MJ winced at the thought of that awful evening. She vaguely remembered seeing Harry stumbling back to the bar, followed by the cold stares of curious onlookers, just after John had embarrassed her by announcing their engagement practically the instant she'd said yes. Poor Peter, that night must have been one of the worst in his life – first to be rejected by her, his only love, in favor of another man, and then to be condemned by his best friend. MJ made a frustrated noise; she didn't like being classed with Harry, even in her own memory. How could they both have known Peter so little, been so blind and so heartless?

"Harry's always blaming his troubles on other people," MJ said finally. "He's not very mature, but he's got to grow up some time, Peter." She paused, searching for the right words. "Knowing you and seeing you, the real you, has made me grow up pretty fast." She smiled warmly at him, and Peter gave her a tiny smile in return. "Now that Harry knows who you are, he'll have to grow up too," she finished hopefully.

But Peter's body language showed that he was still tense and anxious, and Mary Jane decided all at once that there was entirely too much distance between them. She got up and advanced on him, perching herself lightly on the edge of his lap, with her dress whispering, streaming and pooling around them. Gently, she stole her arms around his neck a third time, and rested her forehead tenderly against his. He loosely encircled her waist with his arms, and leaned into her, closing his eyes and releasing a deep sigh, this time one of contentment. "Whatever happens, it'll be you and me together, Pete," murmured MJ. They rested quietly in each other's arms, their faces touching softly and their hearts beating in sync. Her eyes closed too, in bliss.

MJ tried to look forward, to imagine what was coming next, but the future was dim and viewless, their new relationship as yet an uncharted path into its darkness. She didn't feel afraid as long as they were resting in each others' arms, this close together, but she knew everything would seem even more fraught and mysterious when they had to be apart again. Above all, she realized there were still many mysteries to Peter Parker. Although she looked forward to solving each one of them with him, she wondered how easily he would give up his secrets. She opened her eyes to search his face, and found him gazing at her with a tenderness that made her heart quicken.

"You and me, huh?" said Peter softly.

"Yes."

"Whatever happens?" he asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Whatever happens," she assured him. He shifted her until she slid from the edge of his knees all the way down into his lap. Then he kissed her.

The End

With that, it's done! As always, I would greatly appreciate reviews of this chapter, and indeed of the entire, completed story. Does it hang together properly? Did I manage to wrap everything up to your satisfaction? Was MJ's growth consistent and believable? Were the flashbacks a good story-telling strategy? Too many questions, I know, so I'll just end with this: thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and thanks for reading. You were a wonderfully supportive audience!