Twin Demons

by Georgia Kennedy

Peter Parker declares his undying love for Mary Jane Watson, who vows to help him confront his fear and guilt as SpiderMan joins forces with Daredevil to break up a ring of international terrorists bent on wreaking havoc all over the Big Apple.

2. Dear John

TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy

Author's Notes

Special thanks go to Betty Brant for her fabulous story, Memories and Revelations, which inspired the "Dear John" letter and the third section of this chapter.

The conversation between Peter and Mary Jane outside the Lyric Theater is taken verbatim from: Peter David, Spider-Man 2 - The Official Novelization of the Film (New York, Random House Publishing Group, 2004), p. 198.

Disclaimer

This is a derivative work of fiction featuring characters copyrighted and trademarked by Marvel Characters, Inc. It is based upon: Spider-Man, copyright 2002 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Spider-Man 2, copyright 2004 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Daredevil - Director's Cut, copyright 2004 by Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc., all rights reserved; and Hulk, copyright 2003 by Universal Studios, all rights reserved. The author is not connected with nor is this work authorized by Marvel Characters, Inc., or any of the aforementioned motion picture studios. This work is intended solely for posting on Fanfiction, for the benefit and enjoyment of its intended audience. No commercial or financial benefit accrues or is intended to accrue to the author as a result of said posting. Any unauthorized copying or redistribution of this work might subject the party responsible for such unauthorized copying or redistribution to legal action by the owners of the aforementioned copyrights and trademarks.

II

DEAR JOHN

John Jameson knew that something was terribly wrong when Here Comes the Bride piped through the church, but Mary Jane Watson, his bride, was nowhere to be seen. A number of guests near the aisle were already starting to shift nervously in their seats. The groom's father, as impatient and uptight as ever, was nudging Louise Wood, the maid of honor, to go back and get the bride moving. She discreetly slipped out of the sanctuary and returned to the bridal chamber where she'd left Mary Jane with her mother, Madeline Watson.

Louise was already sensing that things weren't going according to the script. "Mary Jane?" she called out as she stuck her head into the doorway of the bridal chamber.

"She's gone, Louise," answered Mrs. Watson as she handed the maid of honor a sealed envelope. "She left a few minutes ago. Would you mind giving this to John, please?"

A gentleman in a rumpled suit was standing near Madeline, silently looking out the window. It was Mary Jane's father, Phil. He was watching his daughter sprint through the park across the street and hail a taxi. Madeline came over to join him, just in time to see Mary Jane climb into the cab and ride off . . . to find her destiny.

Louise, her heart in her mouth over what she had to do, hurried back into the sanctuary and walked straight up to the groom, watching his face fall as she handed him the envelope. The first thing John saw when he opened it was the five-carat diamond engagement ring he'd presented to M.J. the morning after he'd proposed. There was also a note. He could tell from the sloppiness of the script that it had been written in haste.

Dear John, the note began. Well, didn't letters like this always begin with "Dear John?" he thought acidly. There is never any easy way to say this, but over the past few weeks, I've come to realize that it can't work out for us. There is somebody who really needs me. I tried to make myself believe that I had gotten beyond this person, but the truth is that I haven't, and I don't think I ever will. Believe me, I am so sorry that it came to this. You're the last one in the world I'd ever want to hurt and I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You are such a sweet, wonderful, caring, loving man, and I know that you will make some lucky woman a terrific husband. Always, Mary Jane.

He had to give Mary Jane credit. She'd done the best she could to take the sting out of the awful blow she'd just delivered. She didn't use the words, but her meaning could not have been clearer. She was in love with somebody else, and had been in denial about it the entire time they were together. Intellectually, John felt vindicated that his suspicions had turned out to be correct. Emotionally, he was devastated. His entire sense of self-worth had taken a direct hit, and in that terrible moment, he felt nothing but anger, hurt, and despair.

Louise saw the expression on John's face darken as he read the note. She felt tremendous pangs of guilt, knowing that she had helped bring about this sad turn of events by the advice she'd been giving Mary Jane throughout her engagement. He was such a nice guy, a real class act who didn't deserve to be dumped so unceremoniously. For an instant, she was afraid that John would break down right there, or worse, blow his stack just like his old man.

But Jameson the younger was cut from a different block than Jameson the elder. He did not react to stressful circumstances like his father did. Emotional outbursts were unthinkable to him. He would deal with this situation the same way he dealt with every problem that came his way. He would gather his wits and calmly examine it from all angles, analyze it, and dissect it, over and over again, until he came up with an answer that could give him closure.

Looking back over the last few months, John realized that the warning signs were popping up from the moment he'd asked Mary Jane to marry him. The whole time, Mary Jane seemed to be playing the role of a bride-to-be, rather than actually being one. Even when he proposed to her, the way she'd said yes left him with the impression that she was trying to get over someone else. And then there was one night, a few weeks after their engagement at the planetarium, when she'd taken a taxi home after a performance that she was not particularly happy about. They'd had a take-out Chinese dinner in her apartment. She had this confused, distant look in her eyes. He tried to find out what was the matter, but she told him that she did not want to go there and that it would be best if he dropped it.

There was another warning sign, one which should have been obvious. Not once during their time together did they ever make love. Sure, there had been some serious kissing, but she had never let him see her in a state of nature. At the time, he'd attributed this fact to Mary Jane being an old-fashioned Irish Catholic who wanted to wait until she was married before engaging in sexual intercourse. Now, he realized that it was much more than that.

Things had really started to unravel after Mary Jane had been rescued from Doc Ock. John had ridden in the ambulance with M.J. to the hospital and had driven her home in his SUV after she'd been released. She said nothing during the entire ride. All she did was watch passing traffic. He vividly recalled the conversation that they'd had just before he dropped her off:

"We're here M.J. Do you want me to take you up?"

"No honey, I'm really tired. I just want to go upstairs and get some sleep. Hey, I'll catch you for dinner right after the show tomorrow, all right?"

"You sure you don't want to take it easy tomorrow and skip the show?"

"No. I just want to get back into my routine, that's all. . . Gotta pay the rent."

"Good night M.J., I love you."

She did not respond. She just turned around and walked through the revolving door without so much as a backward glance. He had never seen her so out of it.

They never went to dinner the next night. Mary Jane was so exhausted after her performance that all she wanted to do was to go home and go to sleep.

Although M.J. was lively and engaging throughout the pre-wedding society receptions and the rehearsal dinner, she turned listless and lethargic whenever they were alone together. John would often find her gazing out a window, like a caged bird who longed to fly free. Every time he asked her if she was okay, she would tell him yes. But in his gut, he knew that things weren't right. And everyone else, including his parents, was too caught up in the wedding preparations to notice anything amiss.

John's train of thought was interrupted by his father. "What's going on here, dammit?" Jonah Jameson growled, "Where the hell is she?" Without a word, John handed Mary Jane's note to him. He took one look at it and crushed in his hands as his face turned beet red and the veins in his neck started bulging out. The next minute, he started screaming bloody murder, raving against Mary Jane, calling her "gutless," and all sorts of other things that should have been unmentionable in a church. "That back stabber will never find work in this town again, I swear it!" Jonah bellowed.

Pandemonium broke out all over the place. Society columnists from the city's other major papers and the T.V. networks were having a field day reporting on Jonah's tirade. John tried in vain to explain the situation and calm the place down, but he was getting nowhere. He tried to make a point about the need to abort a risky mission, but it was lost on most of the assemblage.

Although he'd somehow managed to momentarily quiet the crowd, the brief silence that hung over the sanctuary was shattered by Jonah Jameson's vow to make life miserable for whoever it was that had the gall to steal Mary Jane from his son, the true American hero. But John Jameson had just about enough. His relationship with Mary Jane was over. It had been over for weeks. What good would it do to disrupt her life? All of his father's ranting and raving would not change her feelings — it would not bring her back to the altar. It would only create more bitterness and resentment. He once heard it said that if you truly loved someone, you'd let her go if that was what she really wanted. And he did love her, there was no question about that. He was determined to do right by her even if it meant slapping his father down in public.

"Dad," John said in the sternest, iciest voice he could command, "you will do no such thing. You will forgive and you will forget, as I am doing. If you so much as write one bad review about Mary Jane, or interfere with her career in any way, or even think about bothering her or her significant other in any way, shape or form, I will walk out of your life and not come back, ever. Not even for your funeral. It will be as if we never knew each other. Do I make myself clear?"

Jonah's tongue froze in his mouth. His son had never threatened him like this before, much less in public. There was something in John's expression and tone of voice that told his father that he was serious, that he would do it without hesitating. His mother nodded in approval. Being an ambitious society woman who was always obsessed with appearances, Joan Jameson was internally dying of embarrassment over what Mary Jane had done. But she welcomed her son's attempts to restore order and shut her loudmouthed husband up, because the last thing she wanted was to generate more fodder for the gossip columns.

"I'll only say this one more time," John continued. "It's best for everyone if M.J. and her beau, whoever that is, get on with their lives, and we'll get on with ours. Do I have your word, Dad, that you'll leave them alone?"

"Yes." Jonah was still fuming, but he kept his fury to himself. He may have been an SOB, but he'd never broken a promise to anyone, and he wasn't about to start with his own son.

John softened up his expression, "Trust me Dad, you'll see I'm right in the end."

Louise, who was standing right there, couldn't help but witness that whole exchange. Watching John spring to Mary Jane's defense, even after she had just jilted him, was deeply moving. That kind of chivalry did not exist anymore, at least not among the men that Louise had been dating. She gently nudged John's arm. "So, you doing anything later?" she asked brightly, genuinely wanting to help him get through this ordeal.

"Actually, I'm not really doing anything now, Louise," he said, admiring how beautiful and serene she looked in her black bridesmaid's dress, amid the chaos all around them. "But I do need to talk to somebody to try and get a handle on what happened. Would you mind so much if we go somewhere where I could bend your ear a little?"

"Not at all." she said sympathetically, "I'd be happy if we would."

Together, they strode toward the back of the church and out the door.

On their way out, they passed Harry Osborn, who appeared to be laughing.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was in a surprisingly jovial mood as he entered the church for the wedding. He chatted and joked with the groom about M.J.'s likes and dislikes, pointing out that dinner at Sardi's once in a while would cheer her up whenever she was feeling down. As the time drew closer for the ceremony to begin, he took his seat in one of the pews near the back of the church. He was genuinely happy for Mary Jane, but that feeling was overshadowed by a sense of smug satisfaction that the girl Peter Parker loved would soon be forever beyond his reach.

The processional began, signaling the gathering that it was time to get underway. The groom took his customary spot before the altar. That pompous idiot, J. Jonah Jameson, was standing nearby, glancing at his watch, as if he had more important things to do than attend his own son's wedding. One by one, bridesmaids and ushers walked down the aisle and proceeded to their customary places before the altar.

Finally, the moment everyone was waiting for was at hand. They waited for the bride to appear. And waited, and waited. The maid of honor had been dispatched to see what was wrong. A short time later, she returned, an envelope in her hand. A few people in the back began murmuring. From his pew, Harry watched the unfolding commotion, wondering what was keeping Mary Jane and getting more and more concerned as the maid of honor handed the envelope to the groom. John read the note, and then with an expression of absolute calm on his face, handed it to his father, who erupted in a rage. Within a few seconds, all hell broke loose, with J. Jonah Jameson screaming the loudest.

It had become apparent to Harry and everyone else that Mary Jane had ditched her groom at the last minute, and was probably not even in the church any more. But what could have possibly—

Harry froze, an expression of disbelief playing across his face. There was only one possible answer, and Harry was probably the only one who knew it. Mary Jane had dumped her husband-to-be for . . . No! he thought, cringing, it's not possible! It can't be! But there could be no other answer. She was on her way to find Peter Parker. That conniving little bastard had managed to steal his girl after all, stabbing him in the back yet again. It was somehow lost on Harry that Mary Jane was no longer "his" girl, and hadn't been for nearly two years.

He wished that, at that moment, he was not in church. He wished that was in a bar, having a drink. He really needed one to get through the wave of rage that was washing over him. He wished for his dad to appear. As if on cue, the Green Goblin's awful cackle echoed throughout the sanctuary. He turned to his left. His father was sitting there, next to him, in the pew. But Harry was the only one whose state of mind enabled him to see Norman. "Remember your promise," his dad admonished him. Only by taking control can you hope to be strong. Retrieve your reputation! Restore our family honor. DESTROY PETER PARKER, BEFORE HE DESTROYS YOU!"

And with that, Norman Osborn returned to the deep recesses of his son's tortured mind as quickly as he appeared, like a malevolent Marley's ghost. Harry looked up, wondering why people were looking at him so strangely. And then he realized why—the Green Goblin's cackle that he'd been hearing had been coming from . . . himself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mary Jane Watson sprinted out of the church and into the light of her newly-won freedom. As she dashed across the park and away from the church, onlookers gawked at the strange sight of a bride who appeared to be laughing as she ran the wrong way. She hailed a cab and told the cabbie her destination. The route took her onto Bleecker Street, past the 40-foot Emma Rose billboard with her image on it. That sign made her face visible all over the city, but there was only one man whose face she wanted to see.

All during the ride, she kept returning to the conversation she'd had with Peter the night he finally managed to catch her show. That conversation occurred around the same time that Spider-Man had dropped out of sight. It kept replaying itself in her mind, over and over again:

"You think because you saw my play, you can talk me out of getting married?"

"You once told me you loved me. I let . . .things . . .get in the way before. There was something I . . .something I though I had to do. I don't have to now."

"You're too late."

Too late. Those words struck her like a hammer blow to the gut. It was now all too painfully obvious what had transpired that night, and she would have given anything to be able to take those words back—or to have never said them in the first place. All those times he'd let her down, he'd been out saving lives, stopping crimes, and bashing hoodlums. He'd finally had enough, and had given up his Spider-Man persona so that he could get his life back and have a life with her. When he showed up at her play that night, he'd finally thrown off the oppressive emotional yoke that had burdened him for the last year and a half, and was ready for a real relationship.

But M.J. had been afraid—afraid that if she'd accepted Peter's invitation to have chow mein with him that evening, he would've found a way to breach the fortifications she'd so painstakingly constructed and force her to confront the undeniable fact that she still loved him. And that was the last thing she wanted. One good look into those passionate, pleading baby blues would've been enough to convince her to break off her engagement, leaving her vulnerable to yet another heartbreak. So she fought against her deepest desires, turning away from his gaze, resisting the overwhelming urge to take him up on his offer, and desperately searching for a taxi to take her back to her safe, reliable — and ultimately unfulfilling — relationship with John Jameson, just so she could prove to Peter exactly what he'd been missing out on.

But once M.J. learned that Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one and the same, she had nothing left to prove. Her entire rationale for becoming involved with John collapsed, like the house of cards it was. Peter had loved her all along—he'd never stopped loving her. He loved her so much that he was willing to let her go if that was what it took to keep her safe from harm. And for Mary Jane Watson, a hopeless romantic at heart, there could be no greater way for him to profess his love.

So Mary Jane did what she had to do. She could not, in good conscience, go through with that sham of a wedding. To be sure, John Jameson would've tried his best to be a good husband, and in time, she might have grown to love him, in a way. But her heart would always belong to Peter, only to Peter, and nothing in the world would ever change that.

By the time the cab turned onto Carmine Street, anxiety had replaced the giddy euphoria that Mary Jane had felt when she left the church. She was under no illusions about the huge risk she was taking. Her rejection of Peter that night outside the Lyric had given his demons the opening they needed to return. And return they did . . .with a vengeance. He had resumed his one-man war on crime, and could very well tell her to go away, forget she ever knew him, and never come looking for him again. The sad irony of that outcome was not lost on her. If Peter shut her out of his life once and for all, it would only be because he loved her!

"Stop there!" she said, pointing to the run-down apartment building she was looking for, holding back tears.