Chapter Four

"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Jane wept as she stared at the half-moon rising over the city. "But I just can't help it. I don't know how or why, but the only time I ever feel alive is when I'm around Peter Parker. The rest of the time, I'm just sleepwalking."

Peter felt his own resolve beginning to crack at the foundations. Fighting off the Green Goblin was child's play next to fighting off Mary Jane Watson . . .

"But I can't get into a serious relationship with him," Mary Jane went on. "He's just so . . . irresponsible and undependable . . . and unreliable."

Peter's face turned red beneath his mask. Irresponsible? IRRESPONSIBLE! How can you say that, Mary Jane, after I just saved your ass? I've given up everything so that people like you could have a normal life. If that isn't responsibility, then what the hell is? But there was no use in arguing. It was entirely his fault that Mary Jane felt that way.

M.J. turned back to Peter, as if she had actually sensed his reaction. "You think I'm a flake, don't you?" She asked, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"No, I don't." Peter answered, wondering how he could still maintain an appearance of impartiality after the tongue-lashing she had unknowingly given him. "But it's hard to understand how anyone would want to marry someone when they're in love somebody else."

She smiled ruefully. "You've never been in love, have you?"

If you only knew how much I want to tell you how I feel about you . . . "Well . . .er . . . I . . ." he stammered, unable to answer.

"I can't see how you'd have any time for someone," she continued. "I mean, with everything you do, it's hard to imagine you having a whole other life." She shifted her body around to face him completely. "Why can't I have a man like you?" she asked, resentful of having spend the rest ofher life in shallow relationships, but resigned to that fate. "You're the only one in the world who ever came through for me. You're perfect. . ." Even as her voice trailed off, Peter could see in her luscious green eyes once again a deep-seated longing.

"Don't ever say that about me, Mary Jane," Peter said, determined not to let her get the wrong idea about him. "I'm not perfect . . . far from it. I'm just an ordinary human being who ended up where he is through a freak accident. Nothing more." He could not bear to hold back any longer. "And yes, I'm in love."

A look of disappointment worked it's way across Mary Jane's lovely features. "You have a girlfriend?" she asked, visibly deflated.

"No," he answered, suddenly wanting to tell her as much of the truth as she could. "It's unrequited."

Mary Jane's eyes widened in shock. "What girl would be idiotic enough to turn you down?" she asked incredulously.

"She didn't. She told me she loved me. But I had to say no."

"For God sake, why," she asked, sensing that she was getting close to Spider-Man's heart.

"Because the ones that I love are my Achilles heel. Anyone who gets too close to me becomes a target for my enemies. I love this girl more than anything else in the world, maybe even more than life itself. But if anything ever happened to her because of me, I don't think I would ever be able to go on. There's an old saying; if you truly love someone, you'll let them go. So I let her go."

Mary Jane was so moved by his revelation that she started weeping. She could feel the deep sadness, the incredible loneliness, of the man behind the mask. This man, who had done so much for so many people, who had saved her life three times, had no one to save his. How could life be so unfair, she cried out silently. Once again, she fixed her gaze upon his eyepieces. This time, Peter saw intense concentration. Unbeknownst to him, she was sifting through her memories, especially of two kisses on two different occasions, two kisses that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before or since. And suddenly, concentration gave way to a flash of intuition.

"I want you to do something for me," she said softly, barely above a whisper. "I want you to kiss me, just like you did in that alley, remember?"

"Kiss you?" a stunned Peter asked. "But . . . you're spoken for."

"Nobody speaks for me," she said resolutely. "Except me. Please . . . I really need to know something." And, just like before, she gently started to lift his mask up from the bottom. But instead of stopping part way, she just kept going.

Peter could smell her perfume as the mask cleared his nose. He made no move to stop her. He had no strength left to resist.