Title: Memento

By: Satine16

Disclaimer: None of the following characters belong to me. They are all property of Marvel comics. Please do not sue me! I don't do this for any money!

Chapter 4: Too Much

"So, how long have you and Harry been going out?"

"Since after graduation. He's good to me, ya know?"

Peter and Mary Jane had started seeing each other for lunch every day. Their friendship soon became undeniably strong. She had asked him to help her make cupcakes. The truth is she was a terrible chef, and she needed all the help she could get. It was Harry's birthday tomorrow and she wanted to surprise him with something nice. Wanted to be the classic girlfriend. They had been working to salvage only six cupcakes for four hours now. She had scorched the first twelve, and undercooked the second.

"Maybe you should just buy him a nice sweater, MJ?"

"Peter! I wanted to do this for him! Come on! You said that you would help!"

She smiled at him and all Peter could think was how much he loved that smile. She was so precious. Harry didn't deserve her. No one Peter could even think of did.

"I'm going home now. I don't even know where to start helping you."

"Fine, Pete. Be that way. Just remember I am not against holding a grudge!"

"I told Gwen that I'd be home. She wants to show me something. That was two hours ago."

"Go home, Peter. You might as well."

She watched as he grabbed his coat and keys to head out of the door.

"My advice is go and buy some from the store and buy a can of icing and write something nice on them. Buy eighteen. Happy Birthday Harry. Then go to sleep."

He left the room and closed the door softly behind him. Mary Jane started to mix a new batch of batter, but the silence became all too eerie. It was heavy on her shoulders. Suddenly, she wished he would come back. She flipped on the radio and Sheryl Crow's "My Favorite Mistake" started to play. The silence was preferred.

"Well, Peter Parker, how do you like the new outfit?"

The apartment was dimly lit when Peter entered that evening. The table had been set with white linens and two glasses of champagne. It was beautiful. Then he caught sight of her. Her silvery hair was down around her shoulders. Free flowing. And she wasn't wearing any makeup except for a little lip-gloss to make her mouth shine. He closed the door behind him as she got up to give him a glass of champagne. The tops of her stockings were visible as she stood up. They were a lacy black to match the seam that ran down the back of her leg.

"I bought a new dress at Bergdorf's."

"I see that."

It was cranberry red. The skirt was very tiny and the knit fabric hugged her body tightly. It had a wide boat neck and was gathered down the two sides of her body.

"You smell amazing."

"Thanks. You smell like burnt chocolate. Dinner got cold."

"You cooked?"

"God no. I ordered out."

"Well then," he rested his forehead on hers, "God, what is that smell?"

"My new lip-gloss. It's supposed to taste like desert."

He leaned in and kissed her. Her mouth was soft and it tasted like warm vanilla and peaches. She pushed herself into his solid frame and ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. They stood melded together until they could no longer breathe. He pulled away from her in one smooth motion and silently gasped to catch his breath.

"Yum," was all that escaped in between breaths.

A small smirk crossed her lips and she pushed herself even closer to him. With a small manicured nail she traced the hard muscles of his abdomen.

"Whaddaya say we skip dinner?"

He leaned in and kissed her once again. He was so solid. Every limb and part rock hard. She instinctively let her knees go weak as he pushed her lips apart with his tongue. His protective instincts took over as he began to feel her fall and he pulled her even closer to him. She let her head fall back as softly kissed her neck. She caught his lips with hers again and softly nibbled on his lower lip. All the while her quick fingers had hastily undone the buttons of his shirt and it lie on the floor. Breaking the contact for a mere moment she pulled the thin, white undershirt over his head and left it by its sorry companion on the floor. He smiled at her, and firmly placing his hands under her butt, lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his lean middle and looped her arms around his neck. Once again placing his mouth to hers he carried her into the bedroom and shut the door.

Mary Jane sat in bed reading her dull novel, wondering what Peter was doing. She knew that she couldn't call him for the company. They had spent the entire afternoon together and that would just seem too needy. Besides he was spending the night with his girlfriend. Gwen certainly had precedence over her own needs. As a matter of fact it wasn't even a need it was only loneliness. Her apartment got too quiet at night, and she was spending the entire day with Harry tomorrow. She went and sat out on her windowsill watching as the moonlight drifted in from a cool night. In the distance she saw something floating around. Something curious. It flew back and forth in a schizophrenic way, and she couldn't quite put her finger on where she had seen something like it before. At first she thought it was him, but he was much more graceful than that. Moved with much more elegance. This was a much more violent motion. Jagged like a knife. And then it was gone from the sky. As if it just evaporated and were only a figment of her imagination. She shook her head from side to side to try and be rid of the drowsiness. It was stupid and she was dreaming. Time for sleep.

When Gwen Stacy woke up the next morning it was alone in a big bed. She sat up and looked around the room. No one. She wrapped the ivory sheet around her body and headed into the living room. The table was still set. The food had gone untouched. The champagne was sitting in a container of melted ice. But no Peter. She waited for two hours before he finally showed up.

She was sitting the couch, still wearing her sheet when he walked through the door.

"Where were you?"

"I went for bagels and coffee. I almost had to beat an old man with his own cane to get back here," he smiled at her, but she did not seem impressed.

"Peter, I hate liars and I the secrets. You always run around, always disappear. Are you keeping something from me?"

For a moment he just looked into her eyes. Her beautiful, ominously captivating eyes.

"Gwen, I have nothing to hide."

"Peter?"

"Gwen, I went to get something to eat."

"For TWO HOURS?!?"

The yelling stirred Mary Jane. Gwen's voice, when raised, carried really well and it penetrated the walls of her bedroom.

"Tell me the truth. Were you next door?"

"Who? Wha-? Huh? No!"

"Peter?"

"Gwen, I promise you that I was not next door. I had no reason to be next door. MJ and I don't have that kind of relationship. We're just good friends. I'm with you. I want you. I love you."

With that all MJ could hear was a buzzing of lowered voices. The words were no longer distinguishable. She rolled out of bed and hopped into the shower. She blew her hair dry so that it would curl under and she the strapless navy blue dress that Harry had bought her last month. It fit her perfectly and just outlined the gentle curves of her frame. She put on just a little make-up and pinned her hair back half way. So that it was out of her face but still held all the charm of when she wore it down. Grabbing her beige trench coat off the chair she headed for the door. Peter was taking out the trash when she reached the hallway.

"Wow. You certainly got all dolled up."

"Thanks, Peter. I'm headed to Harry's for lunch."

"What, no cupcakes?"

"I ordered them last night and I'm picking them up before I get there. Just because I can't bake..."

Peter chuckled to himself and headed back towards his apartment. With one last goofy grin at her he said, "Either way you look really great, Mary Jane."

She smiled at him and started to head down the stairwell. She turned back to him and her heart gathered in her throat as she searched frantically for his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Nothin', don't worry about it. I'll catch ya later."

"See ya, MJ."

When she got there with her cupcakes and a big smile on her face she found Harry to be hung over. His speech was slurred and he was just being downright nasty.

"You couldn't a made them yourself?"

"I tried, I just wasn't very good at it."

"Whatever. You're not very good at anything are you."

"Harry! Is there something wrong?"

"Yeah, I have a trashy girlfriend who thinks she can win me over with shitty cupcakes from a shitty bakery."

"You're shitty and your attitude is shitty!"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Harry!"

"Don't tell me what to do, bitch. Your cupcakes are trash, you're trash and you are certainly acting outside your class."

"I just wanted to do something special for you!"

"And what about your beloved Parker?"

"What?"

"You're all the same. Sleeping around 'til you find someone willing to deal with the bullshit. I don't deal and I don't want anything to do with Parker's used merchandise. Especially old pussy," he spat the last words at her and turned to face the window. "I think you need to go now."

The tears were running down her face and smudging the make-up she had taken so long to perfect. She hated him when he got like this. So self important and vehement. He could be so cruel sometimes. She didn't understand it. She just put her large, dark sunglasses over her tears like she did every time lately and she rode the subway for two hours until it all got out of her system. Then she went and treated herself to a nice lunch. Hell she had gotten all dressed up and everything. When she got back to her apartment Peter was just getting back, too. She couldn't help it. One look at his smiling face and she burst into tears all over again. His smile quickly turned to a horrified look of shock.

"Mary Jane, what's wrong? Oh my god!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to cry on his shoulder. Peter froze. At first he didn't know what to do.

"Tell me what happened."

She sobbed and random spurt came out in inaudible gasps.

"Okay, MJ. It's okay," he took his left hand and ran it in between her shoulder blades, "Just please, please stop crying."

He came inside and made her a pot of tea. She broke down and told him everything. Everything Harry had said to her. What had been going on lately. How her relationship was falling apart. And suddenly she started crying again, but he took her hand and she stopped.

"Hey, maybe he's just not worth it. You are amazing and beautiful and any man would be lucky just to have you look at him. No man is worth your tears. We're all scum. And when you finally find that one that's worth it, he won't be the one to make you cry," he just sat staring into her endless green eyes, trying to understand the sadness within them. "You really do have the most captivating green eyes," and then he knew he had said too much. It went too far. "So, where are your tea bags?" he jumped up and started rummaging through her messy cabinets.

Slowly she stood up and walked over to where he was standing. When he turned around she was right behind him.

"MJ, I..." she cut him off. She wrapped her right arm around him and ran her left fingers through the front of his hair pushing it out of his eyes. He swallowed hard and prayed that it wasn't audible. Then slowly, so slowly, she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Her lips were sweet and supple. The way he had always imagined them. Before he could really think he was kissing her back. He pulled her small frame to him and held her there, breaking her sorrow against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, pushing his lips further apart with her tongue. His lips and tongue tasted just like she thought they would. And his frame was so sturdy and built. As he held her body against his own she fully realized just how strong he was. She had never grasped it before. She got lost in the moment. He held her to him, tasting every drop of her. Knowing that, God, this is what he had wanted since high school. Then the teakettle started to whistle in the background. It jolted him back to earth. He broke the contact first.

"Ummm...tea bags?" he asked catching his breath.

"Second shelf, middle cabinet," she said still locking eyes with him.

"'Kay. I can get this finished for you but then I have to get home. I promised Gwen...oh God! Gwen! I...I...I...I need to go. Go now. Yeah. Must go now."

"Oh my God, Peter! I'm so sorry! It was all my fault. I was upset and you just said and..."

Sighing he just said, "I need to leave now. My girlfriend, who I love, is waiting for me."

"Pete!"

"See ya, MJ!"

He slammed her apartment door behind him. His mind was a whirlwind as he tried to compose himself in the hallway.

"What just happened? Oh my God! Did she really just do that! Holy shit! God she's beautiful. Harry doesn't deserve her. But then again neither do I. But I love Gwen. She's amazing. And gorgeous. And she loves me, too. Oh dear God there both really fucking great. And I am the biggest goddamn moron on the planet. What the hell did I just do? I mean I should have pushed her away. But I wanted to kiss her. Jesus! I have got to be the number one idiot on the planet tonight!"

Harry sat alone in the den. The large mahogany desk filled with papers about work. About his father's company. He had to continue what his father could not. Pick up the pieces. The moonlight trickled in through the large French windows, bathing the scene in a peaceful silver light.

That was it. The key was the girl. Women were weak. They could be easily manipulated. This girl was no exception. She was just like the others. Easily taken care of. An easy link to those that will not break. An easy link to an enemy. That was it. He would have to manipulate the girl. It would lead him to what Parker wouldn't. He would get Spider-Man. He would have to. The bastard killed his father. There was no greater crime. Now he would have to hurt him. As well as those around him. An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart. He would continue what his father could not finish. He would bring his death to justice. Vengeance was the only option.

He unlocked the bottom left drawer of the desk with the small silver key. In one motion, he filled the syringe with ten micro liters of the venomous green solution. His swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirtsleeve and he quickly rolled the crisp, blue edge to his elbow. Clenching his left fist, his veins protruded from his upper arm. Nimbly inserting the small needle into the foremost vein he pushed the entire contents of the syringe into his dark arm. He would go out again tonight.