Title: Memento

by: Satine16

Author's Note: I just wanted to clear something up really fast! I love the fact that all of you are reading this story, it makes me really happy. See: :). But I really hate that you guys leave reviews demeaning what I am doing outside of this. Some of us had ridiculously hard finals to take this month. I pride myself on never having abandoned a story. So please, I WILL UPDATE, it just might take some time. Thank you.
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me they are all property of MARVEL! I am not making any money. Please don't sue me!

Chapter 7: Faith

"Peter?" MJ rapped on the apartment door softly as she began to turn the knob. He was sitting in the kitchen, hovering over a mug of cold coffee. His eyes were blank. Mary Jane had never seen him in this bad a shape before. "Oh, Peter...what are you..." Quickly she started to fuss about him: putting his mug in the microwave, filling the dishwasher, straightening the living room. The entire place was a mess. He hadn't even tried to clean in days. Not since Gwen's funeral. "Peter?" she asked as she smoothed the hair away from his eyes. His eyes refocused with her touch, and he was suddenly aware of her presence.
"What are you...No. You need to leave. Now."
"What? Peter I was just"
"MJ, promise me that you won't come back." The look on his face was absolutely frantic, and Mary Jane was suddenly struck with a terrible feeling. "Peter...I don't...what..."
"I want you to leave. Now."
"But....why?"
"You going to get hurt."
"Peter, I'm a big girl."
"Doesn't matter. They all get hurt."
"Peter I still don't..."
"You don't have to. Just do what I ask," Mary looked into his eyes confused. The deep blue green that had always been so alive had drained of color. The life force that drove his existence had been extinguished. He was empty. And now he wanted nothing to do with her. She searched his face for an answer but couldn't find one. The thoughts within her mind were a whirl. She couldn't even see they were spinning so fast. And deep within her mind there was a voice that softly taunted her. He hates you because you tried to ruin his life with Gwen and now she's gone. You tainted their perfect relationship. Now she's gone. Now he will never be redeemed. "MJ, just please leave," the tears had started to form in his eyes.
"Peter, I don't think you should be alone right now."
"You don't get it," he sprang from his seat and walked to the back of the kitchen. The tears were really coming now. This was the first time Mary had seen him cry since his Uncle Ben had passed away. "Everyone I care about dies. Uncle Ben died and that was all my fault. Now Gwen is gone and that's because of me. Everyone I love. I turn every corner terrified for my Aunt. I can't do that for you. If you...I couldn't. All these people are gone," his frame sunk to the floor and he rested his heavy head into his hands. "All of the people I love get hurt Mary, and I wouldn't make it if I lost you."
"Just have faith, Peter. I'm right here. "
"That's the problem. I love you, so I need you to go. Now. Go," slowly he lifted his head from his hands, "Go! GO!"
Mary Jane's lower lip trembled and the tears began to slowly run down her cheek, streaking her make up. Turning slowly she grabbed her purse. The sounds of his sobbing were the only thing to bid her farewell. Closing the door quietly she couldn't hold it in any longer. She collapsed into the warm wood and the tears fell. Everything was a mess. And Gwen was dead. And Peter had just said he loved her. Peter set the shower to a scalding hot and let it pound against his flesh, turning it a bright pink and searing his tired skin and aching bones. The steam from the shower clouded the room and Peter closed his eyes against the heat. It still hurt. He had come to decide that it would always hurt. It was his fault.
At least he had gotten to Mary Jane in time. She was gone. Maybe those who hated him would never know how much he cared for her. She was gone. That was all that mattered. He already missed her. But that was not important. Her being alive so that he could actually miss her was much more eminent.
He stepped onto the beige bath mat and stared at his reflection in the mirror: the sculpted torso, the simple face, the overall athleticism. Yet the only thing that kept his attention was the sadness in his eyes. Before Gwen had passed they used to sparkle, and it was gone. He couldn't think of a reason to be happy anymore. Slowly, gingerly, he extended his hand to the mirror and rested his arm against the cool glass.
"What am I doing here? Jesus. All I've done is cause pain. I haven't helped a single soul. I'm so sorry Gwen," he let his forehead rest on the glass, "If there was anything..." slowly Peter made eye contact with his reflection, staring deep into the person within the glass. "I promise you now Gwen, I will not hurt another person. I'm done. It's over. Spider-Man...is...dead." With that the tears began to flow again. He couldn't stop them. One week after Gwen's death, in the midst of Peter Parker's misery, Spider-Man had ceased to exist.
"Mr. Osbourne, sir? How are you feeling? You slept here again," the well dressed butler entered the room rather quietly and kindly. Carefully he tied back the deep green velvet curtains that were blocking the sunlight from the room.
Harry was slumped over on the couch in his office. What used to be his father's old office. "Were you working all night, sir? Or should I look for the bottle?"
"Listen, old man, and listen good," like an animal, Harry was off the couch and had pounced on the poor man, wrapping his fist around his slender neck. "Yes, you were my father's friend and butler, but if I felt like it I could snap your neck in one motion. And don't think I don't have enough money to cover it up. So, keep...your...mouth...shut!" slowly he released his grip from the terrified man's petrified form. "I think we're done here."
"The paper arrived, sir," as he turned to quietly leave the butler left the paper on the end table.
"Thank you," his tone had become refined once again, and his body motions had become the elegant motions of a refined gentleman, with the venom of a snake laced in-between his breeding. The headline of the bugle read:

FAMILY OF FIVE SLAUGHTERED: WHERE'S SPIDEY NOW?

"Brent Foster, a biochemical engineer for CORBIN LABS was murdered yesterday night in his home, along with his wife Maria, and their three children: Angela; 10, Robert; 7, and Rebecca; 3. The police have not released the details of this crime in full. But this reporter must ask, Where was Spider-Man when this little girl needed him?"
"Dammit! This goes on for two pages!" Peter threw the paper on the table. He walked slowly to the window and looked down on the street below. "I'm keeping people safe by not doing this! Right? I don't know. Maybe? As he searched the busy New York sidewalks he spotted a girl with platinum blonde hair running down her back, in stiletto heels and a denim jacket. She turned the corner into the alley that lead to the opposite apartment complex. While Peter was watching her he noticed three large men ditch their cigarettes and follow her into the alley.
"Hey baby doll! Oh, come on!" the men whistled and hollered at her but she never turned back.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to get someplace. I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone."
"You got a great ass, babe!"
The girl huffed and spun around in an attempt to leave only to find one of the men already behind her.
"Where ya goin' sweetie?"
"Move!"
"Nope. Ya see I'm gonna get a piece of that nice tight ass. And then it'll be my friends' turn. And if you scream," he retrieved a retractable knife from his pocket and pressed the button, letting the shiny blade come out, "I'll slit your throat."
"I think not," in one motion the blade was removed from his hand. "Leave the girl alone," he hopped from his perch on the fire escape, leaving the blade tacked to the wall.
"Or what?"
"Or this," quickly he delivered a solid kick to the perp's face knocking him cold as he hit the pavement. "Who's next?" The other two turned to run but he easily caught them, and dangle them from the fire escape. Hearing the man behind him moan he turned and punched him, rendering him unconscious yet again.
"Thank you," she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Her bright eyes were glowing again and her smile was simply radiant. She was aglow.
"Becca? Baby? Are you okay?" a man about Peter's age with jet black hair came running down the steps of the very last fire escape in a pair of sweat pants.
"Jimmy!" she ran to meet him and kissed him on the cheek.
"Don't worry Becca, from now on I pick you up and take you home all the time. As long as I'm here nothing is going to happen to you. Thanks, bud. I really appreciate it. I couldn't even find my own door without her."
"I know how you feel," with that Spider-Man left the scene.
Peter stood on the top of the roof watching the couple head back towards the apartment. Her hair was shining. He was doting. And it hurt.
"Why did I do that? God. I'm so sorry Gwen." Mary Jane answered the knock at her door to find Peter Parker.
"I'm sorry I threw you out the other day."
"Ok."
The two just stood and stared at each other. Like when they were kids.
"It's just...first my parents. Then Uncle Ben's gone. Now it's Gwen. I just...I could never handle it if it were you. I'd never make it. Never," Peter fell to his knees and just kept repeating that last word.
"Oh, Peter," she too fell to her the ground and hugged his fallen form.
"I just miss her so much. Them. I miss them."
There were no more words. The simplicity of the matter was that they were gone, and Peter missed them. Missed them all. Even when they were in grade school Mary knew that Peter could only withstand so much loss. He was strong. She had always known that. Stronger thaneven heknew. But his heart was soft and bruised. And she loved him for it. For his strength, for his tender heart and for his kind soul.
They just sat in the doorway of Mary Jane's apartment. Peter resting against her. Finally having found the shoulder on which to lay his grief. Sometimes it only takes a little faith.