Title: Memento

by: Satine16

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they are property of Marvel. Don't sue me.

Chapter 8: Deadly

The picture on the front of the DAILY BUGLE was red and blue. SPIDER-MAN: BACK IN ACTION. Swinging from building to building in the depths of Manhattan. No doubt the article would take the spin against him. Jameson despised the little prick. Nonetheless, he didn't stay down.

He was back. The bastard was back. How many times did you have to take him down? How many times would it be until the hero fell? He would simply have to wait. All heroes eventually fell. Even the great Hercules resorted to a crippling murder of his family. He would just have to wait it out.

Harry Osbourn pushed back the small piece of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. He wore it slicked back now, the way his father always had. His suit was a deep, midnight blue, and his tie the deep red of wine. Crushing the newspaper in his fists, he looked out the window of his limousine.

There she was. In a little black eyelet dress. Her hair was half up and half down, just enough to keep clear of her face, and yet fall over her pale shoulders. Her shoes were cute as well. Obviously not Manolo Blahnik, but adorable in their own way. She never wore much makeup.

"Driver, stop the car," the tinted glass window rolled down, and he yelled from within. "Mary Jane…Want a ride?"

She saw him instantly. Only, he didn't look like Harry anymore. He looked like his father: same sunken eyes, same over pronounced jaw and cheekbones, same wickedly deceiving grin.

"No thanks. I can make it."

"Come on, MJ," he asked with a fake sweetness as he pulled up to where she was standing. She smiled and he opened the door to let her in, scooting over to the other side of the bench seat. Reluctantly, MJ got into the car and closed the door.

"Where are you headed?"

"Home."

"Driver, you remember Ms. Watson's apartment."

"Yes sir."

"So, Harry, how have you been?" MJ twiddled her fingers and stared at her feet.

"Great. The company is soaring in more ways than my father ever could have dreamed."

"Good."

"You?"

"I'm ok. Still working the late shift and fighting to keep a decent paycheck, but that's the world out there. My only worry is Peter."

"Ah, Parker. Still talking to that worthless—"

"He's not worthless. I really care about him. And we worry about each other. Aunt May and I are all Peter has left, and I intend to be there for him every hour of every day, Harry."

"Good for you. I always knew that you loved him."

All MJ could do was stare back. They were in the exact same place they had been when their relationship had ended. Arguing about Peter Parker. Something about him made Harry vehement. Harry hated him. Not that Peter was his biggest fan, but he had never done anything to hurt him. Harry was a vindictive, malicious prick, and Mary Jane wished that the ride were over.

"I don't trust him, MJ."

"I know you don't, Peter."

"Then why do you still see him? Something about him is oily, untrustworthy. I worry about you. I don't need to know that you are voluntarily taking rides from the man."

"Peter, I'm a big girl…"

"I know that. But I worry," his eyes had gone soft and sad. The deep blue gazed at her as if it was gazing into her soul. He loved her.

She knew it. He knew it. Acknowledging it was another matter. Since Gwen's death the two had become incredibly close, but that was it. Friendship was the only offer. Mary knew that he didn't want to betray Gwen, and she'd grown into respecting it. That didn't mean it hurt any less or made her any less insane.

"Just promise me that you'll be careful."

"I'm always careful, Peter," she walked over to where he was standing, his head hanging, and lifted his eyes to her by placing her forefinger underneath his chin. Tenderly, she brushed the hair from his eyes and ran her fingers over the prominent features of his face. Gently, but decisively Peter grabbed her hand in his own, and placed it back at her side.

"Where do you want to go for lunch?"

"Aunt May and I are all Peter has left," he mocked her voice viciously as the dart flew nimbly from Harry's fingers and into the image mounted on the wall. Bull's-eye, straight into the mask. The malicious grin spread across Harry's face, interrupting the otherwise attractiveness of it. In one smooth motion, he reached into his desk and injected himself.

The news had hit Peter like a MACK truck. His thoughts were spinning since the call had been received.

"Aunt May was hurt. He had found Aunt May. But how? The same way he found Gwen, you idiot. He's after what you care about. I swear to God in Heaven if she dies he'll pay. I'll make him pay. He can't do this to me. To them. They don't deserve it."

The doctor's and nurses had already operated and Aunt May was in a deep sleep. One in which her waking was unsure. Peter stayed at her side, holding her hand, trying to assure himself that she was safe as long as he was here. MJ had offered to come with him. Help him through his Aunt's heart attack. After all that's what they were all calling it, but Peter knew better. The goblin's calling card was left behind at the house; Peter had stopped by to get one of Aunt May's nightdresses. She would be more comfortable that way.

It was then that it hit him. The goblin was still out there. It had been four hours since he had left Mary Jane, and Aunt May hadn't stirred at all. MJ was alone, probably asleep by now. If his enemy knew where to find Gwen, and Aunt May, MJ couldn't be that difficult. She would be next. He had to get to her. Now.

Grabbing his coat off the chair and kissing his Aunt's forehead, Peter had second thoughts about leaving her. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to go. The hospital had doctors and security. MJ had…nothing.

Peter exited the hospital as quickly as he entered it, hoping he wouldn't arrive too late. He couldn't imagine arriving just a second too late. Like he did with Gwen.

The moonlight poured into Mary Jane's apartment through the open balcony doors, and her open windows. The heat in her apartment that evening had been unbearable, and she left them all open to catch the draft.

The glider hovered outside her window, and he watched her as she slept. In ways this would be the hardest kill. It would also be the most rewarding.